Getting uncomfortable on purpose

I came late to the world of fitness. I did not enter the industry as a fresh faced teen. That is part of what makes it such a joy now. I genuinely love introducing people to movement, and watching them discover what exercise can give them, physically and emotionally.

However as a business owner I am often forced to challenge myself with tasks that are completely new, and definitely outside my comfort zone. 

For example -  I was recently invited by one of my mentors, Mish Wright, a powerhouse in women’s fitness education, to write a short course on fitness and menopause. What a privilege! Educating future trainers about  menopause feels both like an honour and a plot twist I did not see coming. It is a joy to watch fresh faced fitness professionals get fired up about a demographic that has spent far too long shoved into the shadows. We are not a niche. We are half the population, complete with hot flushes and a fierce desire to feel strong.

I think back a generation ago , to my mum in her 50’s, perpetually waving her handheld fan .She was exhausted, and let’s be honest, pretty moody. (She would deny that, of course). She absolutely refused HRT because one study in the 1990’s suggested it might be dangerous. Context, nuance, and follow up research were ignored. She powered through, unsupported, like so many women of her generation.

And now, here I am, writing a short course to educate the next generation of menopausal fitness professionals, it’s an open conversation and research about menopause has come so far .How good is that !! I digress…Back to my course writing… My computer skills have made less of a journey . I stare at ‘Canva’ - the recommended app for my presentation -  like it is a medieval torture device. I have the ideas, the passion, the research. Turning it all into a slick, shareable presentation is where I spiral. . My Canva confidence is very much a work in progress.

Then it hit me, mid procrastination. I ask my clients to do hard things all the time. Things that feel awkward, sweaty, and unfamiliar. I ask them to walk into a gym full of kettlebells and strange contraptions, and trust that it will all make sense eventually. We teach clients  that learning a new piece of equipment feels clumsy at first, that confidence comes from repetition, and that no one is expected to know everything on day one.

They see discomfort. I see opportunity.

They fear a fall. I see strength waiting to be discovered.

So maybe that is how I need to approach Canva. The same way someone approaches a new machine on the gym floor.  Slowly, imperfectly, and with the understanding that competence comes from showing up and having a go. Not with dread, but with dumbbell energy.

Because this is what I believe. Real success is not about avoiding failure. It is about showing up where failure might happen, and doing it anyway.

So here I go, opening Canva tabs like gym lockers, armed with stubborn optimism and far too many fonts. I will start slow. I will lift the digital weight. And eventually, I will create a kickass presentation that shouts, menopause is not the end. It is the f***ing beginning.

Hot flushes, swollen joints, and all.