Debbie Bates Fitness

What’s fascinating is that the heart rate spike isn’t even the most obvious feature.

The most obvious feature is the period where the data disappears entirely during the exact period I was experiencing acute distress.

It’s explained why this happens in the later slides.

We trust data when it’s attached to a treadmill.

We unfortunately trust it less when it’s attached to a person.

The body keeps receipts.

The question is whether we’re willing to listen.

Here’s the physiological response.
Here’s the data.
Here’s the coaching principle that follows.

That’s it. That’s the post

Occasionally I’ll tell somebody a little story from the thriller that was my life from 1981-probably 2024.

Last time I told somebody but one measly chapter of 2020, the silence was deafening.

Women tend to cry. Men don’t know what to say.

So I just don’t say anything anymore.

But know this…

I built this body with grief, discipline, rage, resilience, rebellion, spite, pure f**k you all energy, protein and approximately 47 iced coffees.

Kinda proud of her honestly.

There’s something wildly healing about being around someone where the energy exchange is… even.

Vulnerable af but my cup has been dry for a while and thank you .e because it’s filling up having you here.

No taking, performing, fixing, or hidden competition. No weird.

Just two women sitting there existing, laughing, talking s**t, cooking chicken, pouring gin, and finally unclenching for a minute.

I think we both needed this and what a fu***ng tonic.

To be real, I am feeling life right now.

For a minute with this weapon having a sleep over I can breathe.

We’re both coaches.
Both single mums.
Both women who spend our lives pouring into everybody else.

And while the kids might technically be getting older, I swear the emotional output somehow gets bigger, not smaller.

It’s rare to find somebody who understands all the versions of you at once.

The lifting and fitness.
The salads and protein.
The discipline and ambition.
The trauma and the triumphs.
The strength and the exhaustion.
The chicken and the gin.

I barely drink these days, but this weekend… It is what it is.

And maybe that’s the point.

Sometimes the nervous system doesn’t need another self-development podcast or fu***ng ice bath. Or perfection… and f**k while. my Virgo soul wants perfect, my ADHD brain fights it hard.

That line in Radiohead’s Creep. I wanna perfect body, I wanna perfect soul.

Well….

Anyway

Sometimes we just need safe company.
Someone who wants nothing from you.

Thank you for coming to my rare waving of the white flag, my darling. Asking for help is harder than a 100kg deadlift for me.

Thank you for the heavy lift,

Wise, kind, funny, grounded and beautiful.

You’re a reminder that good women walk amongst us. 🖤