I have a confession to make.
I’m suffering from a case of good old gym fear.
Before I go any further, let me say that I really enjoy exercise, but that’s not to say I’m any good at it.
Take my recent TRX endeavour, for example.
The gym I go to, (no frills, nothing fancy, cheap membership, near where I live) has recently introduced TRX – suspension training that uses ropes to allow people to work against their body weight.
It sounds relatively easy.
It’s not.
Or at least not when you’ve dragged yourself out of bed at 6:40 a.m, you’re standing there bleary-eyed looking at a trainer who insists on giving instructions like an army general, and your body just will NOT co-ordinate itself the way it’s meant to.
I tried, I really did and, eventually, I managed to get the hang of TRX squats. That’s after I did the wrong thing for about five minutes and the trainer pointed that out while doing his rounds of the class.
I gave myself a mental pat on the back, (DON’T say you haven’t done the same) for getting one thing right (even if it took much longer than everyone else) and prepared myself for the next round.
However, there was no preparing myself for the TRX push-up. None.
Over comes the trainer and explains that I need to move my legs a certain way. I try to do so but then my arms are in the wrong position.
Meanwhile, the nine other people in the class are getting on perfectly fine with those pesky ropes.
Contorting their bodies every which way, getting a ‘good job’ from the trainer, chatting away to the person beside them about what a good workout ‘TRX’ is.
I’m there still trying to figure out what it is I’m doing wrong and why my body won’t do what my brain is telling it.
So, along comes the trainer again and this time, he takes the rope and shows me exactly what to do.
Now, you would think at this point, I might have an idea but the reality is things are worse than before.
My face is redder than a traffic light, I can’t look at him I’m so embarrassed, and even though I know no one cares, I feel like every single person in the room is having a good laugh at the girl who’s making an eejit of herself with the TRX ropes.
So what happens?
The trainer says if it makes you feel better, just do some push-ups on the floor.
“WHAT?”
“No, it doesn’t make me feel better actually, it makes me feel a million times worse. I came here to master a push-up and I’m not leaving until I do.”
Do I say any of that? No.
Instead, I nod, drop the ropes, cast my eyes down and kneel on the ground to do some push-ups, safe in the knowledge that the trainer doesn’t deem me worthy of spending more time on.
I carry on like this for the remainder of the class, absolutely mortified and wishing I could leave but, unfortunately, there’s no escape route.
Eventually, the class comes to an end.
I make the short journey home, obsessing on the disastrous class and wondering why I couldn’t get the hang of it.
It’s only half an hour later that I realise instead of blaming myself, the trainer could have waited back afterward and given me some help.
Maybe he didn’t have time and hey, he was under no obligation to do so but the important thing is I stopped thinking I was such an idiot and just needed more time, maybe without nine other people in the room.
Since then, a recurring knee injury has returned and back pain has resurfaced so let’s just say my relationship with the gym is currently on a break. I’m finally starting to miss it.
I guess I’m sharing this slightly random ramble about my own gym experience because I figure I can’t be the only woman in Ireland to have suffered gym embarrassment. It’s a real thing, riiiiiiight?
Let me know what you think. Maybe you’ve been in a similar situation or maybe you have some tips or perhaps you think I’m a bit of a drama queen who’s having a rant about nothing.
Either way, you’ll get me at [email protected]
