New gym new rules

I went on what people call a ‘mini break’. How does one define that exactly? Excellent question - because this is a brand new concept for me.

Apparently, other people have been doing this for years, taking a long weekend to pause life, recharge, and breathe. Meanwhile, I’ve been over here thinking “who has time for that?” But within hours of arriving at my destination, I got it. I morphed into ‘Holiday Nat’.

Most people know Wonder Woman Nat, Mum Nat, or Working Nat - but Holiday Nat? She’s a delight. She stops to (literally) smell the roses. She doesn’t time-watch. She says yes to things that Regular Nat would quietly frown at while maintaining an outwardly calm expression. In short, she’s a better version of me.

Of course, some habits die hard. So the next morning, without an alarm, I wandered down to the local gym for a strength session. Because even on holidays, my body still craves movement .. and, let’s be honest, Holiday Nat can’t quite let go of her barbell.

I was greeted warmly, handed a towel, and thought, how nice. Then it began.

When Holiday Nat Meets Chaos Gym…

In my gym, no one deadlifts with a rounded back and gets away with it. Load is earned. Weight progression is respected. Form is sacred.

But here? It was like someone had opened a fairy-bread buffet at a kids’ party - pure, sugar-frenzied chaos.

Cables flying. Backs bending where cores should be stabilising. Kettlebell squats masquerading as deadlifts. Cardio machines under full assault. Don’t even get me started on the equipment layout - kettlebells on the floor, barbells wedged in weird corners, and the warm-up area upstairs. I mean, who hides the foam rollers like they’re a secret society?

My inner trainer was twitching. This hurt me. Viscerally.

But then I took a breath. Because I wasn’t in my gym. These weren’t my clients. And today wasn’t my fight.

If I were a doctor, maybe I’d feel an oath to save everyone in sight. But as a trainer on holiday, maybe my duty was different - maybe it was to myself.

Focus, Nat. Focus…

So, I turned up my headphones (Madonna’s Papa Don’t Preach, thank you very much) and focused on my own barbell.

Every fibre of my being wanted to dance across the floor correcting form, rearranging kettlebells, and applauding the woman nailing her lateral raises in the corner. But I didn’t.

I stayed in my lane - literally and metaphorically.

The Real Workout…

And that, I realised, was the real workout.

It wasn’t the squats or presses that tested me - it was the discipline to not correct, fix, or teach. To stay focused on my own imperfections. To remind myself that sometimes growth means letting go of control.

Because we’re not always the boss of everyone else. Sometimes, we just need to be the boss of ourselves.

So yes - new gym, new rules. Holiday Nat still has a few lessons to learn.

Looks like I’ll just have to book another mini break to keep practising ;)