That Which Is Unseen

You don't know.

When you're watching someone in the gym, and they're struggling with a lift or a movement, you don't always know why.

You assume it's heart or effort or conditioning. But it could be something else. 

There are weights on all of us that are invisible to the casual observer.

You don't know if those thrusters are slow because some knees feel older at 6am than they do at 6pm.

Or maybe the other pillow was empty when they woke up.

Or maybe they're still waiting on those test results, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

You don't know if the memories of that horrible night long ago came creeping up again.

Or if they're hoping that check will clear, or praying that maybe, today, their job won't suck as much as it did yesterday, because yesterday was really bad.

We all have these weights, and some of us have more than others.

It's not fair, but it's life. And the fact that we're all still breathing is good enough cause for celebration any day. It's like that old saying: "If everybody put their troubles in the middle of the room, you'd take a look around and pick your own back up again."

A good coach can see some of that. A great coach will feel it even more than see it.  And a fantastic community lives it.

The next time you see someone struggling with what is seen, remember that which may be unseen.

Yell a little louder, smile a little brighter, hug a little longer. (But not creepy-long, you know what I'm talking about.)

Have a heart. We're all in this together.