In 2007, I became a professional trainer. I charged my first client, Linda, $25 per session. You couldn’t convince me to pay that kind of money for help with exercise. I was already in good shape, so I was blind to the anxiety Linda felt when she saw the gap between the number on the scale and the healthy person she wanted to be.
I suffered from an “empathy gap” or “perspective blindness.”
In this case, my ease with fitness made it hard to relate to why someone else would struggle with it or need help. I showed up to the gym anticipating laughs and jokes with my training buddies. But my client showed up after calming herself from the fear of looking out of place and being shamed by rude people who were in better shape than her.
Since training comes naturally to most trainers, it’s difficult to put ourselves in the shoes of someone who lacks the knowledge, role models, or confidence to do it alone.
It’s not just fitness trainers. Mechanics wouldn’t pay for car repairs, chefs rarely eat out for basic meals, and accountants handle their own taxes. But their clients aren’t them — they need guidance, structure, and accountability.
Recognizing this gap is key to recognizing how valuable you are. It helps you better understand your clients, reinforce the value of your coaching, and even say no to opportunities and certifications that don’t add to the value you provide.
Linda trained with me for 2 years. One day, she called me.
“Jeff. I have some bad news.”
Linda was at a hardware store, and a stone slab used for countertops fell on her, breaking both of her thighbones. Even in her fifties with osteoporosis, Linda was in high hopes of a full recovery. I’d visit, and she’d smile and tell me how she was lifting the small weights in her house and going for “spins” around the neighborhood until she could walk again. When she started physical therapy, her doctor told her how impressed he was with her healing and attitude.
Today, I’m writing this post inside the same building- almost the same room where I would train Linda. I’m more glossy-eyed these days thinking about Linda’s words than I would in my twenties- probably because I’m not too busy chasing girls.
“Jeff, thank you.
If I hadn’t exercised in the wheelchair, I’d probably have become depressed and stayed in my house. I just kept doing all the things I learned with you. Here’s a picture of my son and me at Machu Pichu. I made it to the top! With two new legs.”
I never forgot that.
An expensive purchase is one we take nothing out of. A dollar may not buy me a great lemonade, but it can put a big, toothless smile on one of the next generation’s entrepreneurs. Cost doesn’t determine cheap or expensive. What a person gains in their life by meeting you- does.not too busy chasing girls.
“Jeff, thank you.
If I hadn’t exercised in the wheelchair, I’d probably have become depressed and stayed in my house. I just kept doing all the things I learned with you. Here’s a picture of my son and me at Machu Pichu. I made it to the top! With two new legs.“
I never forgot that.
An expensive purchase is one we take nothing out of. A dollar may not buy me a great lemonade, but it can put a big, toothless smile on one of the next generation’s entrepreneurs. Cost doesn’t determine cheap or expensive. What a person gains in their life by meeting you- does.
