Burt

American Fitness, March-April, 2003 by Jeffery Horowitz

Every personal training client brings a unique set of challenges. As Trainers, it's our job to channel clients energy and desire, helping them become as healthy and fit as possible. Sometimes, the challenges are greater than usual and rewards different from what we might expect.

Not long ago, a new Client, Burt, told me he was HIV positive and undergoing chemotherapy. He seemed uncomfortable talking about his health, so I only asked for the information pertinent to his training program. However, I did tell him I was proud of him for taking control and trying to improve himself. This was the type of life-affirming act that brought me to training in the first place.

Burt was heavier and weaker than he would have liked. His self-esteem had also taken a battering from his disease. I knew training would be a challenge for both of us. We began slowly in order to let him become comfortable with the exercises and discover his limits. As we pushed those limits, Burt was amazed to see his strength dramatically improve. Soon, his friends began commenting on his changed appearance. Burt also experienced a change of attitude--instead of feeling like a victim of disease, he began to show confidence and new enthusiasm for life. I'm accustomed to helping people get results, but I'd never seen someone change his or her life so drastically with exercise. Something special was happening.

One day I called Burt to arrange an appointment. Sounding scared and upset, he said he felt very ill and a friend was about to take him to the hospital. Since Burr had felt well for so long, I told him to wait for the doctor's prognosis and not jump to any conclusions. He promised to call as soon as he felt better.

I was very busy at the time and several weeks passed before I realized I hadn't heard from Burt. When I called his work number and reached another employee's voice mail, my sense of dread worsened. I called his home number and left several messages, which I hope sounded calm and upbeat, urging him to call me.

Finally, Burt called. He had a bad reaction to his various medications and was hospitalized for a week. He received a transfusion and lost a lot of weight. Although he finally began to feel better, he was naturally depressed about the big step backwards in his fitness program. "Not to worry," I told him. "As my father used to say when we had a setback, 'This was only a stumble, not a fall.'" When Burt felt well enough to return to the gym, we'd begin rebuilding his strength.

A few weeks later, I was happy to see Burt back in the weight room. He had clearly lost a lot of muscle mass, but worse, had also lost his confidence and sense of purpose. He doubted he could regain his earlier fitness level. "Nonsense," I said and immediately had him begin the rebuilding process. In order to reacquaint himself with the movements I instructed him to use the weight machines, without paying attention to how much weight he lifted, for a week. After that, I would put together another training program that would resume pushing his limits.

Despite my confidence, Burt still felt discouraged. He was certain he couldn't return to where he had left off. I explained that as long as the laws of physics, chemistry and anatomy still applied, he would surely climb back up the fitness ladder. It was only a matter of time. That's the beauty of the human body--give it a reasonable challenge and it will rise to the occasion.

Burt took my advice and resumed training. Soon, his strength and muscle mass began to return. He told me later how much my encouragement helped him through his dark times. Instead of spiraling downward, he took control of his life, once again, by following a plan. Fitness didn't only restore his body--it restored his hope and faith.

Burt continued to regain his strength, but his battle with HIV also continued. Although he moved to Boston to be closer to his family, we kept in touch. Then, I suddenly stopped hearing from him. Later, I discovered Butt had died. I usually have a positive outlook on life, but was suddenly filled with a sense of futility. Why had it mattered that his strength had improved 30 percent last year? What was the point of all that hard work?

Now it was my turn to need encouragement. Luckily, a friend reminded me that what was important was not only the strength Burt gained, but the sense of purpose he discovered. With Burt, I learned exercise is not a vanity of the body--it's fuel for the soul. What we do in the gym is a declaration of what our lives stand for, our character and faith in the wonder of life. I am sorry Burt is gone and will miss him, but his passing taught me something about the role of fitness in our lives. It is a lesson I won't soon forget.

Jeffery Horowitz is a personal trainer, marathon coach and attorney based in Washington, D.C. He can be reached at Horowtzrun@aol.com.