Many people think my job is easy. Granted, I’m not a pothole fixer nor a cleaner who has to pick shit from strangers, because some people can’t even sit on a toilet properly. And I’m not dealing with millions of dollars either. I work with numbers but in a slightly different way. I’m dealing with people, who aren’t children – that would’ve been easier. I think. You can teach a child, while old dogs don’t want to hear about new tricks. Old habits die hard with a vengeance. I can’t say I’m a personal trainer, but since it’s a bitch to explain, let’s say I am. You could also call me a drudge or a jack-of-all-trades. I’m everything in my studio: a shrink, a cleaner, a disco-jockey and a waitress. It’s anything but boring. A lot of things are going on and it is, and it isn’t monotonous at the same time. But the main audible thing in my studio is laughter. Mission accomplished.
When I started this business, my main goal was to make exercise pleasant and fun for people, since let’s be frank, exercise is a necessary evil for most of y’all. Maybe because folks have a wrong approach. The best way to kill the will to workout are group exercises, which are usually a melting pot of sporty, less sporty, utterly non-sporty, slim, round, young and old people. How are the utterly non-sporty, less sporty, and round people supposed to keep up with the tempo if exercises are designed for fit people? They won’t and that’s where the fun stops. But people generally like to relax a bit after a working day and my job is to combine all the mentioned elements. I really enjoy my job and it’s almost a hobby. But just like anything else, it takes its toll. 100 people, 100 problems and afflictions. When a washing machine breaks down, we call a repair person. Or we buy a new one if we realize it’s completely kaput. But what do you do when a person breaks down? Close your eyes and imagine a scene: a room where 30 women between 25 and 60 come and go each day. Each of those women have their own wishes, expectations, and a character. 30 different personalities and each deserves proper attention – that’s why you’re there. Now open your eyes and tell me it’s an easy job. Add bad weather, low pressure, periods, full and new moon – rinse and repeat, since it’s a new month.
Everyone has their own reason to walk the Path. Some do it for the sports achievements, others do it to stay fit; some enjoy the view or socialize, others want to lose weight or find peace; some do it to battle health issues, others want to escape their everyday job, family or other burdens. There are million reasons. So why do I go? First, I love challenges, and second, it’s so beautiful. The gorgeous nature, the personal freedom, choosing my goals freely. No disruptions. An escape from the mad world to a realm of peace and quiet. Another reason is the will to persevere, to beat the distance despite the struggles and my own antagonizing forces. That makes me feel alive.
The Path is a good drug. Once you go, it won’t be your last one. Unplug from the Matrix, which anyone with a normal IQ should do to prevent a meltdown. For me, the Path is taking a break from people, thoughts and problems. I reset myself and have fun on my terms. That’s the purpose of vacation.
I’m still young enough to hate lying on a beach for fourteen days and roll around like a rotisserie chicken, and I don’t care about 5-hour-long marathon coffees. It sounds dreadful. I can’t say the comfort zone makes you alive – au contraire, it sedates you, makes you dull. The zone of discomfort achieves the opposite. To each their own joy, and Camino is my own joy. Unfortunately I didn’t go only because of joy this year.