I used to want to be an actress. Wait, that may not be true. My mother directed
a couple of community theaters in the town where I grew up and it was easier to
cast me in the shows she directed or was starring in, than to find someone to
watch me. I remember my first role was in South Pacific. Obviously because of my
hair color and dark skin, and brown eyes, I was a natural to play one of Emile
Debecque's south islander children. I had to wear a long dark fall and so much
grease paint that my own father didn't recognize me. Which frankly isn't a huge
surprise, but that's another post.
The point is, the plot line - that I would go into theater -was developed before
I had a chance to think about other alternatives. I did enjoy it for many years,
but lets be honest, Seattle in the 80's was not a hotbed of Musical Theater
action. However, even though I paid my bills by waiting tables, my identity was
wrapped up in the grind of scouting for shows, auditioning, rehearsing, and
performing. That's who I was. I was an actress. Often when one finds, or is
handed their passion in their youth the age of burn out hits early. Which is
where I found myself at about the age of 24. It was about then that I stumbled
into my first aerobics class. Maybe it was the endorphins, maybe it was all the
cool kids at Pro Robics circa 1987, but I liked it. I remember starting with the
lowest level classes and moving up the ranks to be able to take Kari and Kathy's
classes. Back then the classes were leveled A (hardest) B ( intermediate) and C
( beginner.) I started with C thinking I would rather move towards the A than
have to go from A to C. Anyhoo, after a few months, Kari tapped me to be an
instructor at Pro Robics and I was thrilled. I had a new passion, and theater
was solidly in my rear view mirror. That was 26 years ago. Almost to the day. I
started teaching in October of 1987, and have been teaching in the same
community since.
The last couple of years have been very challenging both personally and
professionally. I've had a lot of loss and a lot of change.
I quit Pro Robics to take a job at another club in the area in October of 2011.
I had been anchored at Pro Robics for 24 years, but could see that my growth
potential was stagnating there. And although I was happy at Pro Robics I was
simultaneously being dazzled by the fast talking, relentless, haranguing from
the club down the street. So with promises of security, money, and paid
vacation(!) I gave my notice to Pro Robics and took the plunge ( job) down the street.
It should have been obvious that it was sketchy from the beginning,
considering I had no job title, no desk, no contract, no direction, no training,
and a constant barrage of manic, scattered, ranting, meetings which lasted
sometimes for hours on end. After being verbally assaulted in the Alaska
terminal on the way to a conference in Los Angeles, by my manager, and left
sobbing in front of about 200 people,( several of whom thought it unwise of me
to travel with this man) and berated again in the L.A. convention center, I
decided when I got home to quit my management position(or whatever it was.)
My passion after all is teaching, and I could still perform that job. And after
all, I had recruited so many members to the club, and had built a fantastic
clientele of incredible, smart, lovely, and loyal people, it felt right.
Eventually that ended as well when I was fired last month.
So here I am. Of course I still teach and train where and when I can. I actually
teach at 3 great clubs. But I have to tell you, this is the first time in my
life that I kind of have to sit with myself. Who am I if I'm not an actress, or
a teacher, or a trainer?
I am starting to understand my clients who send that last kid to college, and
wonder "now what?" I have come to realize how dangerous it is to place my
identity so solidly in one place, and in such a precarious way. Much like an
actress, a trainer or instructor needs that human connection, not an audience,
but a participant. I suppose I could stop the joggers who pass by my house and
gently suggest some gluteal work, or knock on my neighbors door and recommend a
plank, but its not the same as having a home base. I miss my ritual of setting
up my stereo, shooting the shit with the folks at the front desk, talking
football with Eugene, and seeing the kiddos come in with their random outfits,
ll never forget a certain kid who came in last summer with her one piece bathing
suit on backwards and her shoes on the wrong feet. That was my all time
favorite. It sucks having your livelyhood stripped and so much of your community along with
it.
However, although I am not anchored to a physical location as I had been, I have been literally
blessed with the best friends, cheerleaders, happy hour pals, and fellow fitness junkies
that have ever graced a Seattle City park on a cold rainy morning, and I am full on GRATEFUL
for every soggy, BBQ, pole, tube attaching, plastic plate mountain climbing, monkey bar pull up one of you.
I have had this song in my head all day, with a slight alteration:
" You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, you don't pull the mask off the old lone ranger,
and you don't mess around with Coach Kitty."
Cause as my friend Alicia said to me the other day:
"You'll be fine, cats always land on their feet."
Love, K.........
