Chapter 8
“3-2-1 … you’re done!”
The lights went up, the music went down, and Willa nearly collapsed over the front console of the machine. She and her machine were soaked with sweat.
“Great job!” Jamie said, fist-bumping Willa and handing her a sanitizing wipe. “After you safely clip out of the machine, please take a moment to wipe everything down and make your way to the waiting area.”
What the hell just happened?
Mind you, Willa was someone who had paid good money to march for 14 hours through mud, sleet, and waist-high pond water with 50 pounds on her back and a nightmarish array of slosh pipes, water buckets, sandbags, and people in her arms. She had traveled to California for a 13-mile, all-uphill run that required you to do 30 burpees each time you failed one of the race’s more than 30 obstacles. (Willa did hundreds of burpees that day.)
Was this fitness class … tougher?
Stair-stepping to a beat, raising and lowering the resistance and speed according to the coach’s cues, and using her core to turn her body to face the sides and back of the room — all of that was enough to make this the hardest workout class Willa had ever done. And she was hooked.
After wiping down her machine, she wobbled into the waiting area and changed back into her sneakers.
“What did you think of my class?” Jamie asked, waving goodbye to the other client stand-ins.
“That was amazing,” Willa said. “I’ve never done something so intense.”
“This was your first time? You haven’t gone through the workout in your training?” Jamie asked. “For six weeks Tara took us through at least two full-out classes a day. For one of the sessions, I had a 103-degree fever and she wouldn’t let me sit it out.”
“Damn,” Willa said. “That’s … nuts. Yeah, I guess they needed one more coach here so they added me at the last minute and are shortening the training time.”
Jamie cocked her head. “Kind of sucks that you’re paying $2,000 for just a few hours of training, though.”
“Well, I’m not —“
“Hey, Willa,” Dee interrupted. “How do you feel?”
“That was insane,” Willa said, toweling her face. God, I must look a mess.
“Glad you liked it,” Dee said. “Why don’t you stick around for a few minutes and listen to my feedback for Jamie? I think it could be helpful for you.”
Jamie looked a little bit stricken, then shook it off. “Great idea, Dee!”
Willa desperately wished she could go into the shower-less bathroom and splash water into her armpits, but she went ahead and sat next to Jamie on the reception bench. Dee pulled a chair up close.
“OK. So,” Dee said, tenting her fingers under her chin. Even in a seated position and in tight leggings, she had no tummy rollover. How was that humanly possible? “I want to share with you what I liked, what I loved, and what I don’t ever want to see again.”
Jamie swallowed audibly.
“All of this is meant to be constructive, and to make you the best FitFams coach you can be,” Dee said. “I liked your song choices. It was a really good mix of pop and the kind of hardcore rap that makes us seem … edgy. I like that you didn’t use the clean versions; we’re all about explicit here.”
Jamie nodded.
“I loved when you went up to a client and basically forced her to keep going, even though she clearly wanted to stop. You motivated her, pushed her, and made her feel accountable to you,” Dee said. “I loved when you said, ‘Don’t let me down! Don’t let yourself down! Who you are in here is who you are out there!’”
Jamie nodded again.
“Now, here’s what I never want to see again. I don’t want to see you mention any brand names other than ours. So no ‘Bosu ball’ or whatever. It’s FitFams or nothing,” Dee said, her tone firm. “I don’t want to see you consulting the class list in order to remember the names of the people in the room. I need you to memorize those names as soon as the clients walk in. Try different memory games, or give them nicknames in your head. I don’t care how you do it — you have to know the names, and you have to say them.”
Wow, Willa thought. Dee takes this very, very seriously. But Willa didn’t fault her for that. You have to be assertive if you want to be successful, right?
“I also don’t want to see you ignoring the merch wall. You didn’t say anything about the new sweatshirts or the signature aromatherapy oil,” Dee said. “And, speaking of that — you forgot to turn on the aromatherapy diffuser before class, so the room smelled like gross sweat instead of honeysuckle and tea tree oil.”
Willa thought she’d also caught a hint of her high school favorite, “Happy” by Clinique, but anyway.
“OK, I understand,” Jamie said. Did Willa detect a small crack in her voice?
“And I don’t want to see you slouch. It’s just … it’s … it’s not who we are at FitFams.” Dee sat up straight and patted her tight abs. “Stomach in, shoulders back, head high. Got it?”
“Yes,” Jamie said. There’s the chin wobble.
“Great!” Dee said, getting up from her chair and grabbing her laptop bag and the black St. Laurent leather jacket that somehow looked so good over a crop top and leggings. “I’m excited to see you grow as a coach and as a member of the FitFams Force. Willa, I look forward to seeing you on the mic, too.”
And then she swept out the door, leaving Willa and Jamie sitting in silence.