Usually, I like the topics of my blog to be either ridiculously healthy, or wittingly inspiring. For today, I have the perfect topic to discuss and share with you: gelato.
“Hmm,” you’re thinking, “unless Alison has blissfully happened upon a new diet where you can eat all the fat and sugar that you want as long as it’s incredibly delicious, then this must not be one of her healthy blogs.” So, is it going to be inspiring? I hope so, but not in the way you’re thinking. This time, the inspiration is going in reverse.
Just yesterday I was on my way home from work. As I walked the four blocks to Grand Central Station to catch my train home, I had a lot on my mind, but none of it was good. I was thinking of the Ciao Bella gelato stand located one of those mini gelato spoons away from track 114 on the lower level of Grand Central. I thought about all the wonderful flavors they have: cinnamon, kiwi, malt ball. I had pretty much settled on a double size of my two favorite flavors, mocha chip and dark chocolate (yum!), when I suddenly remembered that they had equally delicious crepes there as well. Should I get a nutella crepe instead? A crepe with gelato on it? Oh, the possibilities!
“Hmm,” you’re thinking again. “Am I reading the right blog? Why is Alison – “Fit Girl” – agonizing over gelato flavors?” (or you’re wondering what time Ciao Bella opens on the weekends when the train schedule is lighter, but you have more free time to sit and indulge). Well, let me explain. I’m still injured. I’ve been out of my boot for one day, and the pain my foot is in from being free is reminding me that I won’t run the NYC Half Marathon on Sunday, and I’m beginning to question if I’ll ever be able to run significant distances again. So, if I can’t be “Fit Girl” anymore, how about going back to my alter ego, “Fat Girl”, and just start a gelato rotation where I try a new flavor each evening on my way home, and figure how long it will take me before I have to repeat? It’s brilliant!
I hobble down to the lower level, my Achilles tendon barking out how much it hurts, and my back harmonizing with it (to add insult to injury, the day I got the green light to try biking again, I threw my back out while working out, so the bike sits on the trainer and collects even more dust as it patiently awaits my return). Crepe? Gelato? Crepe? Gelato? I reach track 114, and I can feel my pants getting tighter just from the thought of the new journey I plan to embark on. Then, I think one word, and I have everything figured out: “Hannah”.
“Hmm,” you think one more time. “Hannah? Is that a new flavor of gelato, or do they name their crepes at Ciao Bella?” Neither. Hannah is a person I’d met only a few days before. Last week I was at a conference that my company runs every year. We were in Hendersonville, NC, in an area so remote that clearly AT & T hasn’t even bothered to venture out to yet to install any kind of cell phone service. My duties at the conference involved doing making data presentations sound interesting and running resistance band workouts several times per day for all of our conference participants. During that week, I met a bunch of interesting and wonderful people. One of them was a woman named Hannah.
One night, Hannah approached me and introduced herself. She is a former athlete who had fallen a bit out of her fitness routine, but is eager to restart her healthy endeavors. She is interested in completing a triathlon, heard I had done a few, and came up to ask questions. Hannah and I chatted for just a few minutes, but in that time I knew I was staring at myself just a few years ago: a person with brains, drive and ambition, eager to let herself succeed, and in the back of her mind knowing she could do it if she could just remind herself to use her own powers for good instead of evil and to stop getting in her own way.
The next day I ran into Hannah, and did something completely out of character for myself. I walked right up to her and asked if she’d be willing to let me be her coach. This wouldn’t be easy: we live 3 times zones apart, both have full time jobs and families. I’ve coached a bit but am still a novice, & Hannah is about to jump into a world where it’s to one’s advantage to be equally proficient in three completely separate sports. I pitched my idea to her, then told her to think about it and I’d understand completely if she wasn’t interested. Hannah’s smile on her face answered before her words did, when she said, “I’m in. Where do I sign up?”
Hannah and I spent some time one evening of this conference planning out her first two weeks: we wrote up exercise and nutrition plans, talked about who she’d be accountable two, and what possible roadblocks she might encounter. Then I reminded her I was there for her, and she told me she was excited. The next day was the end of the conference, though Hannah was staying on to throw her own conference at the same venue the following week. Before my plane touched down in New York later that evening, Hannah had already emailed me about her first workout, and how great she felt doing it.
Now, here I found myself, at the Ciao Bella counter about to embark on the world’s fattest pity party, I thought about Hannah. She is trusting me to guide her through a health journey that she wants to embark on for herself and her family, and I’m about to drown myself in a tub of Espresso flavored gelato. She put her faith in a complete stranger to help her achieve her goals, and at that moment I decide that I am not going to let her down. I am her coach, and I have a job to do. So, I smile a small goodbye to the various gelato flavors, and limp over to track 114 to catch my train. Eventually my foot and back will heal, and I need to start thinking about my new training plans – for myself and for Hannah.
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