The gym. A scary place frequented by lycra-wearing, protein-drinking, altogether more superior beings.

At least, that’s the image that comes to mind every time I try to convince myself to go. The rational part of my mind tells me that lots of different people go to the gym, but in those moments where I’m urging myself to be brave, I can’t help but think of the super-toned men and women who are the other side of those big glass doors and I just want to run in the other direction.

What I struggle to understand is where these people came from because they seem to be those people from school who hate P.E. One minute they were trying to bunk-off cross-country, and now they are fit, toned and glamorous – when did that transition happen and how did I miss the memo?!

I love the principle of “it’s never too late to start”, but in reality it’s a really scary prospect. I feel like I’m joining the party late and if I dare to step through the doors everyone will turn and stare, looks of judgment clear on their faces. The same worries that I had as a teenager resurface – am I wearing the right things? should I wear makeup? will everyone laugh at me? do I even belong here?

Then the extra level of anxiety kicks in – where will I keep my stuff? what if the locker key breaks? or if I lose it? are there showers? what if I slip in the shower and nobody notices I’m still missing hours later? how do the machines work? what if I use it wrong? what if I fall off? what if I collapse because I’m a lump? what if I have to go to hospital? will be stuff be removed from the locker? how will I phone home to get someone to pick me up? Each question swirling round in my brain quicker than the last.

Thankfully, I broke through those worries and ACTUALLY WENT TO THE GYM on a Friday night (cue anxious thoughts of people judging me for not going out to socialise). I will admit I did have company from another equally unfit although less socially awkward colleague, but luckily this company meant I couldn’t chicken out and hide in my car for an hour pretending I’d gone. Overall, it was a success – yes I probably could’ve burned more calories – but I didn’t fall off the machines, or slip in the showers, or end up in hospital!

My next challenge is finding the motivation to go back, to make it a habit rather than an ongoing battle of will power. I’ve tried putting it in my planner but for some reason that isn’t enough to make me go – any suggestions to find that intrinsic motivation are greatly welcomed.

In the long run, I’m hoping that going to the gym will help me to be a healthier version of myself. I’m not setting myself targets at the moment because I’m tired of letting myself down and I just want to spend some time celebrating the things I do manage to do rather than the things I don’t.

This blog is meant to be helping me find my voice and be my best self, but if this resonates with you then just remember, you’re not alone in worrying about the gym, about what you wear, or about an unimaginable number of other things which are unlikely to ever happen. I think it’s called ruminating, but more on that when I reflect on mindfulness at some point when I have more energy because I used all of mine last night on one gym session!