The Weight of our Work

Take it Back to the Early Aughts

12ish years ago I started teaching fitness classes at Chicago Athletic Clubs- a chain of gyms across the best neighborhoods of Chicago. I was taking classes there daily and already at the front of the room (friends can attest), so I figured why not get paid for it?

It wasn’t about the money. It was to challenge myself outside of my 9 to 5 work. (I was working in experiential marketing and anybody who has lived in the agency world knows it’s anything but 9 to 5).

The classes were social- sometimes we'd walk down to Milk and Honey to refuel what they had just burned off. It was a creative outlet. A hobby I got paid for. The only time I’ve ever felt like work was when I agreed to a 6 AM class. Never again!

When I moved to San Francisco, teaching fitness classes fell off my radar. I thought about picking it up again, but I was traveling so much for a new job and too busy exploring the new city to want to dedicate any precious free time to it.

A Pandemic Revival

And then a few years ago, all gyms shut down. Well, everything shut down.

Remember that?

I was left with only free time.

A friend of mine who started as a regular at my Saturday morning boxing classes back in Chicago and later upgraded to a dear friend in San Francisco (a wonderful story for another day) suggested maybe I pull together some pop-up classes in a park.

What started as "Physical Fitness Phys Ed" in Bushrod Park parlayed into morning workouts on the steps of Alta Plaza, at the top of Twin Peak, and onto the courts of Mission Dolores.

These classes gave structure to my empty calendar and a sense of purpose- I was grateful to provide a service of sorts to my community.

It didn't take long for me to remember how much I love running people ragged.

So when the owner of a local gym, 17 Reasons Athletic Club found me booty bands in hand under Sutro Tower and asked if I happened to be a strength instructor, I happily took her up on the offer to join her crew (Another great story for another day).

This morning, I was wrapping up a strength circuit class when one of our regulars headed to the door and said, “Now that I got my real work done for the day, I’m headed to the office!” I smirked, proud I lived up to my reputation as an ass-kicker and glad she felt good about her workout.

I pulled out some weights to finish my own sweat sesh before heading home to start my work day when her words sunk in a little deeper. Her "real work” started an hour ago when she rolled into the gym and joined my class, so why didn't I feel I had started my work day, yet?

Respect the Hustle

I

realized I've always called this thing I do "a side hustle" or a "good excuse to get my ass to the gym." I've never framed this "gig" in the same way I look at my marketing career. Maybe because I don’t make as much money teaching as I do consulting, there's no ladder to climb and there are no fancy titles besides "the hard instructor."

But it's on me to decide how much weight I put on this part of my career.

(Pun obviously intended)

In the same way, I sometimes discount that balancing my Quickbooks, attending a seminar, or hitting up a networking event is work (I mean, the word "working" is literally in the name), these are all parts of how I develop my skills, exercise my talents, contribute to society and provide for myself.
(Again...the puns)

If I've dedicated more than a decade to building my career as a fitness instructor, I believe it should be as much of my work story as a parent who raises their kids or philanthropists who volunteer their time.

Paid or unpaid, it all counts as work.