Three days a week, I do a weighted trampoline sculpting workout class called Common Language. This class has, not an exaggeration, revolutionized my life by adding some much-needed flavor and zest. There is loud, thumping music, and I get to dance my little heart out, which makes it feel like I’m at a trendy club at eight in the morning. Not a tacky club, more like one of those clubs in Greece where beautiful people go and everyone wears white but no one spills on themselves. Now, you may be thinking she must be a fitness person to do such a class, but that is not the case. I’m the woman next to you in pilates yawning on the reformer. The gal mumbling "holy shit" as the instructor tells you to go one inch lower in barre. I’m not into fitness per se, but working out is good for my mental health, so I try to do it as much as possible.
When I started trampolining, I had all the feelings people do when they try something new. I desperately tried to get the moves exactly right. I used every prop required, but in order to get through class, I needed to set down my weights or slow the movement down to learn the choreography. I looked around the studio, panting like a labradoodle, as I watched my classmates thrusting their dumbbells in the air with ease and straightening their legs into clean long lines while mine were permanently stuck in right angles. I kept thinking to myself, ‘am I the only one in here modifying?’
Sitting on the wooden floor, dripping sweat, I got so down. Sure, it was just a workout, but I hated this feeling like I was the sole person needing to make things easier for myself, and it translated over to my real life too. I felt like the only mom who didn’t make homemade teacher gifts. The lone writer who used Grammarly to edit her newsletter. The sole home cook who didn’t want to make pesto from scratch and instead used that kind from a jar that doesn’t taste like pesto at all.
When I played this all back for my therapist, she initially asked, “Why are we talking about your workout class instead of your health anxiety?” But then she gave me the kind of withering stare only therapists give and firmly said, “You kind of sound unrealistic – you really think no one else in there is making adjustments? Are you seeing things clearly?” I laughed. Of course, I wasn’t. I’ve never seen things clearly in my life.
Obviously, other people were making alterations; I just couldn’t see theirs like I could my own. More importantly, even if I was doing less, does it matter? A) I was doing it and liking it. B) Modifying makes my life bearable. Could I embrace doing less and go from there? So I kept going to my beloved class, stopped focusing on getting it right, and embraced going at my own pace instead.
Last week, a woman told me I was a good dancer. This is the nicest thing you can say to a thirty-five-year-old woman. So when everyone else is doing more or going the extra mile, don’t be afraid to say I hate more and cut your own shorter path if that’s what keeps you happy. I bet I’ll see you there.
Full-time modifier here: after the age of 27, absolutely refused to do a burpee ever again. I, instead, will stand there proudly with my hands on hips until that section has passed.
You'll definitely see me there. I HAVE to modify at anything dance-y because I have no coordination 😂 even the hokey cokey catches me out sometimes. Loved this post x