What does it take?

 

To understand part of this story, you probably need to understand what my office looks like. Well, it’s not really an office like you might expect, but it’s what I call my office.

Let me explain. I’m a physical therapist and an athletic trainer, but most of you knew that. I work in a clinic called Total Rehab-Cherokee, usually shortened to just “Cherokee.” My building is basically a warehouse-type building, with a high ceiling and wide-open spaces. 

The clinic takes up about half of the space, while a fitness center occupies the rest of the space. They are separated by a wall on one side and a counter-top around the rest. My “office” is a space about half way down that counter top.

I’m about as much in the middle of the whole building as you can possibly be, straddling the world between the clinic and the gym. There are several other clinicians that occupy that countertop, but all of them face inward, toward the clinic. I face outward, toward the gym.

This is where I sit most of the time when I write my column for this space (and too much of the time, really—such is the world of medical documentation).

This whole arrangement is very purposeful. This makes it much easier to take care of my patients on the rehab side and opens me to engagement with the fitness members. Just about every day, someone from the fitness side walks up with a question.

Usually, it starts like this: “I know you don’t like to be bothered, but….” That’s not true. I don’t consider it a “bother” at all. I’m honored that people want my opinion about their health and fitness. It’s part of what keeps me going.

Sometimes it is a simple ache or pain that doesn’t really require medical intervention but just some common sense advice. I’ve said many times that good health care is often merely good common sense.

Sometimes it is a question about their training program. Just yesterday, I was asked what exercises might be of benefit to prevent back pain. With multiple college degrees in fields related to exercise science and a lifetime spent in a gym, I sort of know what I’m talking about.

I got a different sort of question yesterday. “What separates an elite athlete from an ordinary athlete?” The person posing the question added that it didn’t seem like it was only talent.

No, it’s not. The cliché is “hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work.” That’s mostly true. I mean, there isn’t any substitute for good genetics. Aaron Douglas comes to mind. Maybe the best high school athlete I’ve ever seen, Aaron’s parents were a Lady Vol All American and an NFL lineman. Phil Fulmer offered him a football scholarship in the crib.

But Aaron worked hard. And remained coachable. So did Brandon Warren. And Lester Whitted. John Garrett might not have impressed you physically, but he was talented and never made the same mistake twice as a state champion quarterback.

Those of us around back then knew that Randall Cobb was something special. We knew he was talented. We knew he worked hard and stayed coachable and all that. But I’ll not lie and tell you that I thought he would have a long NFL career when he was a high school star.

Randall took care of that. He stayed committed to excellence. He dedicated himself to being the best he could be. Commitment. Dedication. Work ethic. Persistence. Staying coachable. Doing the little things.

And that is the answer to the question.