ON COACHING
A subtle vibration on my wrist signals 5 a.m. I feel a familiar tug-of-war between my desire for more sleep and an excitement to run.
Before I can dwell on it, I slip my feet from the bed and dress in the dark, using the clothes I laid out the night before. I grab my phone’s flashlight to find my coffee cup—anything brighter might wake the kids—take a few sips, and head to the gym.
At this hour, it’s just me and, coincidentally, one of my remote clients. We exchange a few words before starting our workouts. The treadmills face the window, and their reflection gives me a full view of the gym—and my client. I try not to watch his workout, but I am unsuccessful. I mentally log notes for his next program, yet even that feels insufficient. I spend the rest of the day with the nagging feeling that I left something unfinished.
Moments like this remind me why coaching isn’t just a job—it’s something I can’t turn off. That is because it feels more like sharing than coaching, and not sharing feels... wrong. That said, my approach has evolved over the years. Early on, I mistook constant cueing for good coaching, offering feedback on every little movement, thinking that hyper-specificity demonstrated expertise.
If a client’s squat wasn’t perfect, I’d correct their stance, hip position, rib position, back angle, breath—everything. It felt helpful, but in reality, it created dependence. Now, I aim to guide rather than dictate. If something works, I reinforce it. If it doesn’t, we problem-solve together.
It often sounds something like this:
“Feeling strong? Keep going.”
“Shoulder discomfort? Let’s play with your elbow angle.”
“Try narrowing your stance—if it feels better, stick with it, if not — go back to what you were doing.”
This shift came from understanding what keeps people training long-term: autonomy. A coach shouldn’t be the center of your success—that’s their ego, ignorance, or both. Instead, a coach ensures safety, provides direction, and ultimately serves as a shepherd. A shepherd doesn’t walk every step for the flock—they guide, protect, and ensure the path is clear.
That’s what good coaching should feel like.
Having someone in your life dedicated to improving your fitness is remarkable. Expertise, scientific knowledge, and experience are essential but insufficient on their own. Coaching, at its core, is trust transferred—one person lending you their certainty until you discover your own.
