A day in the life of a personal trainer and gym owner.

A day in the life of a personal trainer and gym owner.

Behind the glamorous life of a fitness professional lies… whatever the opposite of glamorous is.

One of my favourite lines lies in the So you want to become a personal trainer brochure is “choose your own hours”.

There is some element of truth to that statement: you can choose your own hours as long as those hours are a triple split shift when your services are most in demand: before-normal-person-working-hours, in the middle-of-normal-person-working-hours, and after-normal-person-working-hours.

Watch: That time we worked out with Madonna’s personal trainer. Post continues after video.

If you want the tired truth, here it is: 

5:12am: Wake up.

5:10am = too early. 

5:15am = too late.

Morning minutes are valuable. They are like dog-years. Every minute before dawn you can save is the equivalent of 7 afternoon minutes. Or something.

5:30am: Drive in the dark to my first class of the day.

Only one headlight is working. Drive with fog lights on instead. Survive.

5:45am: Start first classes of the day.

Teach 3 x reform Pilates classes at 5:45am, 6:45am, and 7:45am.

8:30am: Life-saving sustenance.

I grab coffee before my next class: THE BIGGEST long black with a dash of milk. The first sip is heaven, the final sip 5 hours later not so much. But… caffeine. In the hour before my next class (BODYPUMP) I cram choreography. To be fair, I learned it yesterday, but the short-term memory cramming makes me feel more confident. Realise I didn’t learn the core track. Don’t have it in my soul to learn it now, so just sneak in the one I taught last week.

9am: Drive to my next class.

In the daylight. No headlights (or fog lights) required. Survive.

9:30am: Teach BODYPUMP.

My shoulder is f**ked. Every move where I press the bar is agony. Those that have participated in BODYPUMP before will know that there are… A LOT of pressing moves. I’m trying to hide the pain. See, the thing is in this industry, if you don’t work, you don’t get paid. So I cry on the inside like a winner.

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