July 3, 2026
It’s 10:39 p.m., and I close my eyes, trying to remember—exactly—the workout with Chris today. And by Chris, I mean CT, the owner, founder, and man behind the elite strength and conditioning engine that is 100% Hoops. I’ve been at this for more than two years now. Wednesdays and Fridays, we hit the gym—no free weights, just a mat; a treadmill; Chris’ more than twenty-five years of experience as an internationally established strength and conditioning coach for athletes at all levels, including Nike Basketball Camps; my will, desire, and ability to listen, learn, adapt, and grow; plus the synergy between us.
This isn’t our first go-around. Back in 2006, the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college as a goalkeeper, my Aunt Tracy recommended I start training with Chris. Why? Because he knows exactly how to take basketball players from average to elite—and because a lot of those same skills required for basketball—lateral quickness, overall agility, first-step quickness, and intuitive processing ability—are sport-agnostic: they’re not just for basketball, but they apply to almost any ball sport. And soccer—particularly goalkeeping, which focuses heavily on read-and-react abilities, anticipation, and the fast-twitch muscles needed to meet the ball out in front of the net before it crosses the goal line—requires exactly the skills that I wanted to improve. We worked together all summer, and by the time I got back on campus for preseason in late August, I was playing the very best soccer of my entire life, pushing for the starting spot, and knowing that the work I put in with CT over the summer was the key difference-maker.
And yes, let me be clear on two things: (1) I do not know how to talk or write about biomechanics and all that goes into the multitudes of ways to measure athletic performance, evaluate progress, or develop the perfect athlete in a science lab. People who study this can and will talk circles around me when it comes to how to leverage space and how to most efficiently calibrate one’s body to be ready for the highest level of competition, day in and day out, over the long haul. And yes, it probably sounds clichéd, but I don’t know how else to say this: my body has a way of figuring things out—with reps, with time, with muscle memory. My interoception increases, and movements that were once unpredictable, wonky, or clumsy (or all of the above) start to gel.
It’s like the beat finally . . . drops, and steps that were once confusing become clear, second nature, and what I need to do next just makes sense. And without hesitation, I do it. This can happen when I am training alone, in the gym alone, on the court alone, yes—but with Chris, there’s a lot less friction and a much shorter lead-up to when things finally click. Usually it’s when I’m drenched in sweat, doing all that I can to keep pushing, keep building—that’s when I know—oh yeah, this is working.
What started working today?
For years I’ve been working through chronic tension in my throat while working out and running. A while ago, I found the culprit: exercise-induced vocal cord dysfunction. But knowing the culprit isn’t the same as healing my body. Those thirteen years of living in New York City and being on the grind in that city have a way of staying in your nervous system for a while.
So here I am now, two years later—having been back in the Midwest since August of 2024—and just now I’m starting to feel the scalene muscles in my neck give way and let me breathe properly when the workouts reach their zenith: Chris letting me know it’s time to jog backward on the treadmill set at 3.5 with a steep incline; then, once three minutes of that starts to feel amazing, do the same thing again, but skipping backward. Or that part in the workout when “do as many push-ups as you can in two minutes” feels like a death threat. Or, like Wednesday, side-shuffling across the gym as though it were the baseline for two minutes straight—three times—and, for good measure, spending thirty seconds sprinting from end to end every thirty seconds.
When it’s all over, my why—again and again—becomes crystal clear: would've, should've, could've will not be a part of my story.
So it’s Friday night, and a weekend of training awaits me. But at least for right now, I can close my eyes, reflect, remember, and enjoy the work that we put in today. This time around, we’ve been at it for two years, ever since I moved back to the Midwest in August of 2024. Despite two years already having passed, the climb of my life is just now beginning.
More notes and details from these sessions with CT, forthcoming.
