02/01/2026
I was thinking this weekend about why I wanted to train dancers, though I was never a dancer myself.
The origin story goes back to 2005/06, when I first started training in a commercial gym, and I was assigned an Alvin Ailey artist by my personal training manager. This was in my first year of training when I didn’t know what I was doing, and in my mind at the time I had no business coaching a professional athlete of that caliber. “Don’t you have coaches already?” I remember asking.
When we opened a brick and mortar in 2015, I thought, lemme ask some dancers in the Dayton community about their cross training. And what I heard from them—hours on the elliptical, hot yoga, very little strength training—made me think that I was in a position to genuinely help.
I don’t know what it’s like to create art with my body, but I do know a little bit about trying to write. One can write without a desk, without good lighting, without a comfortable chair, without a “room with a view.” And plenty of people have.
Writing is incredibly hard. And every writer I’ve ever known talks about the misery of the process (and the wonder of *having* written!). You see, writing is already so very hard even with the proper tools. But having those tools can allow the artist to focus just a bit more on the creative process.
Dancers have created beauty for many years without the benefit for proper strength and conditioning. That’s true. But, if we can make the process just a little easier—knowing the boulder of creating work still needs to be pushed up the hill—then why wouldn’t we?
If we can make it even marginally safer, why wouldn’t we?
If we can help an artist avoid a surgery, even well after retirement, why wouldn’t we?
If we can do the humane, and the kind, and even the soft thing, why wouldn’t we?
Ultimately, I feel a debt of gratitude to any artist who makes being alive just a little more beautiful, and thus, tolerable. This is the way I can help pay that debt.