Watching Biggest Loser with the kids and discussing my high school gymnastics coach Mr. Widman and his freaking circuit training AFTER our grueling 2 hour practices where you were afraid to ask to go to the bathroom.

Also, we had no fancy Worthington bouncy spring mats – it was gravity sucking staph infected wrestling mats for us in the inner city/ghetto. We would unroll them and then roll them back after our practice.

Mr. Widman was a very very pale man. And very, very small, but strong. Dude was hard core, and he didn’t really dish out the compliments. When he did, it meant literally everything. I probably remember every one of them.

I worked with his high school class during lunch my senior year. They were all special needs. I remember I taught them greater than/less than by making the sign into a hungry fish. I had read a book about special needs kids. I was a voracious reader, and had picked that up somewhere. Still am when I can be. He was annoyed that it was so simple.

And when he gave life advice, it stuck.  He told me high school boys wouldn’t ask me out because they knew I was too good for them. I believed him. It helped at the time and forever after.

I WILL fault him for the airbrushed MVP sweatshirt you had to wear around school after the meets, and the scores for the weekend said so. DUDE! Just occurred to me that might be why I was always tripped in the halls by upper class men. (every time I tried to type that, it said clansmen. I just have to say…)

It’s funny that he comes to mind. I guess most people who work with physical health and mean it, always consider the entire person. Or maybe I just got really lucky.

Anyway, my kids are getting tons out of this new season. And I am grateful for the coaching I got throughout my life.

Thanks, coaches. We are all pains in your buttocks.

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