Couch or Coach?

The Lure of the Couch

My husband Joe made it clear during our retirement negotiations that a life lived on the couch was not a life well lived -- and therefore, a dealbreaker. He also told me he never wanted to hear me utter the words, “I’m bored.” Word to the married: retirement begins as a negotiation with one’s spouse. There is no such thing as free agency. 

 

I love my couch as much as the next guy, but I did see Joe’s point. I decided to enlist the services of an executive coach to help me plot out an ambitious retirement – one busier and more productive than my old life of being compensated for my labors. My coach would help hold me accountable -- to myself, yes, but in addition, to the boss of my retirement, Joe. The coach’s job is to help keep me off the couch -- and Joe off my back.

 

The Cry of the Coach

I interviewed two prospective coaches and settled on the friendly fellow who was a former religious studies major. 

My retirement has six pillars: learning, volunteering, travel, writing, and exploring spirituality. Oh, and self-care -- which is a euphemism for physical exercise. The coach and the couch are the angel and devil whispering in my ear. “Exercise!” asserts the coach. “Come sit a spell,” cries the couch. 

Several people quizzed me as to why the hell I wanted to do this coaching stuff or set retirement goals in the first place. 

My old boss called me an overachiever. My old colleague called me crazy. An accomplished professional I know told me that he has an appointment with his couch just as soon as he can retire. So why would anyone make a job out of retirement? Isn’t the whole point just to be lazy?

 The Boss of my Retirement

I’ve learned it is best to avoid the details. I recognize the blank stare on people's faces when I start blathering on about my six pillars. When they ask what I'm up to these days, I just say that I am keeping busy.

The coach adds value and provokes new thoughts, but I should have known all along that Joe would be my best coach and most salubrious influence. It must be those nuns he worked with in his past life; they certainly taught him how to crack the whip. 

In the meantime, much as I love a great nap, I’ll try to stay off the couch.

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