I don’t believe I’ve ever written what I was doing when the Towers came down eighteen years ago.
I was working out of my home office with phone consults set up for most of the day. These were one hour calls where I’d help coaches and lifters with their training programs, make weekly adjustments and discuss what should be discarded or added in.
This was old-school work done with landline phone and folders with programs, notes and Post-it’s all over the pages. Yes, I had a cell phone but the rates were too insane to use unless I absolutely had to.
It was midway through my first call of the day and my client asked me if I had my TV on. I turned in on and for the next five minutes we were asking each other what the hell was going on. We agreed to hang up and catch up next week.
I left messages or spoke to all my other phone clients that day immediately after I hung up, and rescheduled, as it was a time to be with family. I had one client in the city who I wasn’t able to reach, but knew was OK from a friend of a friend.
The rest of the day was spent talking with family and watching the news.
Basically, it was like time stopped.
I distinctly remember driving to Westside Barbell Club the next morning and the sky looked very odd to me. It took me some time to realize it was clear. No planes, no contrails, no nothing. Just blue sky and clouds.
Westside being westside, there was no discussion of it. We did our max effort bench training and left. Came back Friday to squat, and training proceeded as it always has, did and I assume always will.
Regardless of the training, we all changed eighteen years ago. For me, I learned to take nothing for granted. Not in a way that people speak, write and give pep talks about. It REALLY hit me hard, and it's actually one thing I don’t speak a lot about (gratitude).
I don’t need to – it became part of me that day, and I was over 500 miles away.
My thoughts and prayers will always go out to those who lost loved ones on that day.