There is already a quiet weight that comes with being a coach.
People expect you to have answers, often mid class and under pressure. They expect you to demonstrate movements competently, to scale intelligently, and to explain why something matters, not just how to do it. They expect you to help them navigate workouts, injuries, frustrations, and plateaus. And sooner or later, they will ask you questions that go well beyond the hour they are paying for: sleep, nutrition, stress, routines, habits, life.
That expectation is not unreasonable. It is the role we step into when we choose to coach.
Most coaches already understand the idea of virtuosity, particularly within the context of CrossFit. Virtuosity is doing the common, uncommonly well. It is the deliberate pursuit of excellence in basic, repeatable actions. It is attention to detail, consistency over time, and respect for fundamentals that others dismiss as mundane.
Most good coaches live in that space already. You probably would not still be coaching if you did not. But I want to take that idea one step further and introduce something I think is unavoidable once you step into this profession.
The coach’s tax.
The coach’s tax is the additional cost you pay every time you do anything you would advise a client to do.
Every meal.
Every training session.
Every morning alarm.
Every bedtime routine.
Every choice in a restaurant.
Every “I will do it tomorrow”.
The tax is not perfection. It is not aesthetics. It is not being watched.
It is the extra layer of intention you must apply because you are a coach.
When you train, you do not just train. You train as if you were demonstrating to a client who is not even there.
When you eat, you do not just eat. You make choices knowing you will later explain those same principles to someone else.
When you set a routine, you do not just do it. You test it, live it, feel its friction, and learn where it breaks down.
And crucially, you do this not because anyone is checking, but because it is the only way to know whether what you are asking of others actually works.
That is the tax.
Where the Tax Shows Up for Coaches
For me, the coach’s tax shows up most clearly first thing in the morning.
Every day, when my alarm goes off, I want to hit snooze. I want to stay warm. I want to delay the discomfort of starting the day. There is nothing unique about that. It is human.
But every day, I get up.
I follow my morning routine. I create time and space before the day begins. I eat a proper breakfast. I prepare myself deliberately, not because it looks impressive on social media, and not because I want to set a visible example, but because I know exactly what happens when I do not do those things.
When I stick to that routine, I show up sharper. I think more clearly. I coach better. I am more patient, more focused, and more present. I am better equipped to help other people do hard things.
And that is the key point. I do not do it to look like a good coach. I do it to be one.
The tax is not about optics. It is about credibility, internal credibility first, external credibility second.
Why the Tax Matters
The coach’s tax buys you something invaluable: sincerity.
When you pay the tax consistently, your advice stops being theoretical. It stops being something you once read, watched, or heard. It becomes lived experience.
That changes everything.
It allows you to empathise properly, not with vague encouragement, but with real understanding. You do not rush people. You do not dismiss resistance. You do not reduce coaching to box ticking or motivational slogans.
You know where things are hard because they are hard for you too.
You know where routines fall apart.
You know which habits are easy to recommend and difficult to sustain.
You know how often good intentions collide with real life.
That lived knowledge sharpens your coaching far more than any certification ever will.
The Quiet Standard
Here is the uncomfortable part. The coach’s tax is non negotiable.
You do not get to opt out of it because you are tired.
You do not get to skip it because no one is watching.
You do not get to suspend it because you know better.
In fact, knowing better is exactly why the tax exists.
Being a coach means holding yourself to the same standards you ask of others, not because it is noble, but because anything less quietly undermines your work. Over time, you feel it. Your confidence erodes. Your words lose weight. Your empathy becomes thinner.
Conversely, when you pay the tax consistently, something solid develops underneath you. You trust yourself more. You speak with clarity. You coach from a place of alignment rather than performance.
And that shows, even if you never point it out.
A Challenge
So here is the challenge.
Do not ask whether you are paying the coach’s tax. You are, somewhere.
Instead, ask yourself where you are not paying it.
Maybe it is sleep.
Maybe it is food preparation.
Maybe it is consistency in your own training.
Maybe it is mornings.
Maybe it is stress management.
Maybe it is the gap between what you know and what you do.
We all have areas where the tax feels heavier. That does not make you a bad coach. It makes you human. But ignoring those areas quietly limits your effectiveness.
The difference between a good coach and a great one is not knowledge.
It is not experience.
It is not charisma.
It is the willingness to quietly, repeatedly, and honestly pay the tax, even when no one is looking.
Because that is where integrity lives.
And integrity is what people feel long before they can explain why they trust you.
