I first met Jim back in 2009, when I started working out at Building Q. At that time, most of my interactions with him were brief—usually just asking where my trainer was. Honestly, I was a little intimidated; he reminded me of those no-nonsense high school teachers in India that you don’t want to bother unnecessarily.
Fast forward to 2021, after COVID, when I returned to the gym. Many of the trainers and friends I had worked out with were gone, and Jim was the only trainer available. I began working with him, and in those first weeks he set clear expectations: no small talk, no chit-chat, no counseling sessions. But over time, that changed.
Jim and I grew into real friends. He would share stories about his weekend biking adventures, and I’d ask him for advice on choosing bikes for my son. He had a dry, sarcastic humor—especially about music—and he kept the gym spotless and organized. If you noticed kettlebells with hairbands, or wipes always restocked, that was Jim. Building Q was like his home, and he treated it that way.
We often talked about language, culture, and travel. He told me about his trips to Japan, Germany, and beyond, though he never really explained why he traveled so much. Then one day, after nearly two years of training with him, I mentioned that my son was disappointed about not making the track and field team. Jim asked what event, and when I said discus, he casually revealed that he had competed in the Olympics. I was stunned—I had no idea. He even showed me how to throw properly so I could teach my son, who later made the team in his final meet. That moment meant the world to us.
Jim never bragged about his accomplishments, but he gave so much to his clients—support, wisdom, and friendship. In my case, his impact reached even my family.
I think of Jim’s passing as his final win against cancer. He didn’t want to prolong suffering with treatments; instead, he chose to keep doing what he loved—training his clients and saying goodbye in his own way. In fact, just a week before he passed, Jim was still in the gym, coaching and encouraging us. That’s how I’ll remember him: a champion, a mentor, and a friend whose strength and kindness will stay with us long after.
Rest in peace, Jim. You’ll always be part of the Building Q family.