Recently, a former-client (whom I hadn’t spoken to in months) reached out to ask a question. A question that, after thinking about it, I found worth sharing here.
But before I explain the question, allow me to briefly lay out the backstory:
This person was someone I had worked with at the beginning of 2018. Over the course of our time together they lost 70 pounds, which was amazing. But even more amazing than the weight lost was how much this person redefined their life, their habits, and their overall sense of self.
Their haphazard expectation for instant results (both with their diet and their life in general) was replaced with an appreciation for slow, steady progress.
Their relationship with food went from borderline disordered to borderline robotic (but, like, if robots were sentient and happy and stuff).
All in all, while all the credit goes to this person — who they were when I met them was absolutely unrecognizable (in the best possible sense) to the person they were last time we spoke.
So, knowing that, I was relatively surprised when that person reached out and explained just how hard the past few months had been for them.
In the past few months, that person had been absolutely wrecked (like many others) due to quarantine.
He was adjusting to working virtually. He was doing his best to help home school his two boys. And, in addition to all of that, his wife was entering her final trimester with their soon to be born baby girl (which, according to the word on the street, can be a trying time).
And up until this point, in his own words,
“I’ve handled it pretty f*cking bad.”
He went on to tell me how his reliance on food as a coping mechanism had relapsed. He mentioned how he was in a rut that he couldn’t get out of. And he said he very honestly felt worst now than when he began.
He was frustrated because what had become so easy had suddenly become so very hard.
And he ended his email with a question, a question that is the very point of this long-ass post:
“Nick, I thought this stuff was supposed to get easier? Why has it gotten harder? Why am I so bad at the things I’d gotten so good at?”
For the sake of privacy, I’m not going to copy/paste the answer I sent him. But I do want to touch on his question publicly (with his blessing). And I want to do so for one very specific reason:
I think somewhere along the line, we’ve been lied to.
Somewhere, somehow, we’ve gotten it in our heads that this thing—diet, nutrition, fitness, whatever—gets easier over time. And it makes a lot of sense that we’ve grown to believe that. Because, in many ways, it does get easier.
That’s not untrue.
But the problem is that this belief, the belief that things get easier, is an oversimplified (and slightly inaccurate) account of what is actually going on.
Your diet (or whatever) doesn’t get easier. You get better at dieting.
Or more accurately:
You get better at dieting based on the life you’re living right now.
And it’s the latter part of that sentence which holds the key; the improved ability to do (or achieve) something within the confines your current situation.
Fitness and nutrition is a bumpy road and it always will be. But rather than things getting easier, we instead become better at handling that path.
My friend from the story above had become extremely capable of dieting while working from the office, and sending his kids to school, and having a wife free of cravings for chocolate-dipped pickles.
But my friend had yet to become good at dieting when his entire life was flipped upside down.
And that’s where he made a mistake.
He hadn’t instantly gone from “good” to “bad”. In fact, he was as capable as he ever was — he was simply comparing two entirely different challenges.
You don’t, and will not ever, become perfect. at dieting. always.
Life changes.
Things happen.
And when they do, when the status quo is flipped, we must all learn how to function within the new norm. This goes for everyone; coaches, members, everybody. We all struggle with change.
Which leads me to my final takeaway:
Whether you’re in a groove or not, whether you’re a rookie or not, we’ll all eventually experience something new and something hard.
We’ll experience the birth of a child or the loss of a loved one. The job we love will force us to move. Our dog will start hiding their shit in odd corners of the house. Whatever.
When that happens, we’ll be forced to struggle through change.
But there is one single skill, one skill everyone in this group is working on, that we’ll forever be able to lean on during those moments.
And it’s the ability to handle hard things.
The path doesn’t get easier, but you do get stronger.
And while there’s no denying how much it may suck when life decides to take a steaming dump on your desk…I’d still say there’s some pride in having the strength to not drown in it.
(Yuck.)
By Nick Sorrell.
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