“No one ever steps into the same river twice.” – Heraclitus
I have taken on a new role recently. Coach.
I have always been the guy people ask before, during, and after class. It felt natural. People saw me as someone who understands the game and can explain it in a way that helps. My favorite moments are when a group of guys says, “Let’s ask Joe.” They all know the cost. I demonstrate the technique on each of them, no holding back, so they can feel why it works. I feel the weight on my shoulders. Then I break it down, highlighting the parts they need while going lighter on what they already understand. For the details that matter, I turn up the pressure, sometimes to the point of pain. Newer guys hesitate. They brace themselves. They always leave stronger.
Then things changed. I took on a private student. Then five. Then the wrestling club where my kids train asked me to get certified and help out.
So now I am Coach Joe.
And it feels weird. My entire life, I have been an athlete. Because of skill, experience, and age, I have always been a leader among athletes, never above them. But a title changes something. Ego is involved, even if I don’t like admitting it. And I feel a subtle fear creeping in. I catch myself thinking I am losing ground. Am I moving away from the athlete I have always been? I am turning fifty. My body is showing signs of deterioration. My MS is relentless. And yet, I am still killing myself with BJJ, wrestling, and weightlifting. I push anyway. I am not ready to say that part of my life is over.
I like being the old guy in a young man’s sport, just another athlete, not an old coach. MS has already taken so much from me. Maybe that is why I am afraid of losing the image of myself as an athlete. Maybe that is why I am afraid it will take coaching away from me too.
A recent MRI showed significant new lesions on my thoracic spine. Turning fifty makes it real. The idea that my health is failing in ways I cannot see makes it harder to ignore. I feel a flicker of panic.
And yet, I wonder what this new role could mean. Maybe coaching is not leaving the athlete behind. Maybe it is a different kind of fight. I test the idea in my mind. Maybe I am testing a new version of myself, seeing what still works, seeing what can be shared. I am not sure. I am not done figuring it out.
Sometimes I feel stuck between two identities, the fighter I have always been and the coach I am becoming. I am aware of it, wrestling with it, and some days it feels like I am barely holding my own. I grit my teeth and keep moving. But maybe that is the point. Maybe this tension, this uncertainty, is the part that matters right now.
I am not losing the athlete. Not yet. Maybe the blog, this snapshot, is enough to hold that in-between space. For now, this is enough