be brave enough to go back after initial failure
The scene
The new gym in town, Life Time Athletic had finally opened. The wait was over. It was time to try alllllll the new things.
About seven months before, I strolled into a preview center in a local strip mall, post- Cava gorging, for the details. By the end of the high-end video tour of a gigantic kids sports area, yoga and spin rooms, huge fitness floor, multiple pools, saunas, a salon, a cafe, and AN ACTUAL FULL SERVICE BAR, I plunked down the discounted joiner’s fee and strolled out with some pretty sweet swag: few water bottles, shirts for the girls, fancy leather gym bags with a big “Founding Member” luggage tag dangling from the plastic wrapped handles, and a promise of some sort of forthcoming fitness palace.
After several months of delays from a particularly nasty winter here in Northern Virginia, the Grand Opening was upon us! Since I was following the (super grumpy at that point) facebook pages for Members, I could see that there was a pretty large team of Performers, the name for the coaches and instructors that would be leading us through asanas, burpees, dances on the floor and bikes, basketball games, pool lap after lap, and more. They were posting some pretty funny, often inspiring memes to hype us up. Since I am who I am, I was giving a fair amount of side eye.
It really didn’t take long after walking through the giant glass doors before I was completely sold. This place is the real deal. Everyone feels welcome and encouraged. People are on day one of their fitness journey. People have been lifelong athletes. They have crossfitters, triathletes, walkers, dancers, yogis, brand new moms, nanas…everyone. Within a few visits, I was sure I found my second home. A year later, and I’m still sure.
There has been some magic in this year. At first, everything was new and exciting! But it wasn’t long before I found myself a comfortable little routine, my own little spaces, and settled in. I knew the yoga formats I liked and where in the room I want to plop my beloved mat. I had a favorite lane in the pool. I auto-piloted to the same locker to enter the same combination before I placed my gym bag, organized exactly the same way, each day.
But I’m a Sagittarius, guys. You KNOW I’m not staying in a box for too long.
I started to branch out. I tried new things. And you know what? Something super strange happened to me: I found myself positively DUG IN. Like, I could not just relax and find a new, bigger groove. Who was this person? Here is where it showed up the strongest and where I needed someone to speak truth into my life.
I’m so overwhelmingly grateful for this humbling experience and her words that changed me. Ultimately, so much joy is in my life now that couldn’t have been without ALL of this. I do want to warn you, though: I’m sharing this because I hope to keep you from falling right into this trap. BUT, I acted in a way that is really embarrassing. I appreciate your grace around the thoughts I am about to share because they make me look like a total jerk. We all have our moments.
That time I was a solid bro
One morning, back about a month before Ironman 70.3 Augusta, I tried out a new cycling format that is propriety to Life Time, called AMP. It’s billed as a “Party on a Bike.” The trainer who gave me the whole introduction video all those months ago told me it would be too elementary for me, which was a seed I wish had never been planted. You know, and that I have never subsequently fed and watered like I was hoping for a big county fair blue ribbon from it’s broad leaves.
I registered and strolled in for my 5:30 am AMP experience with a chip on my shoulder. I was wearing my favorite triathlon shorts and noticed immediately that everyone else was wearing leggings. “Maybe one day these beginners will want to upgrade their shorts. I should be ready to tell them all about my favorite brands if they ask,” I remember thinking. How helpful am I? To top it off, a friend of mine who recently came to me about advice for his first triathlon ended up on a bike right by me. Awesome! Maybe I can help motivate him.
I adjusted my bike to my normal places, set my watch, and hopped on for a nice little recovery ride. With how hard I was working in their class designed for cyclists and triathletes and bazillions of trainer hours, I was clearly going to slay this simple format.
Can you feel what’s coming?
The incredibly kind Performer mounted her lead bike, said something beautifully motivational, told everyone to “Put something on that blue knob,” cycle speak for crank up the resistance, and then was out of the saddle.
My thoughts: “HUH? Umm…we stay in the saddle, yes? That’s what gears are for. I’ll just hang out here for a minute until she sits back down. I can’t believe everyone in here needs to release the tension in their legs already. We JUST STARTED. How can you be standing? This is very beginner.”
Then she started queuing people to do foolish things like lean to the right and left. Now pushups?
“WHAT? You want me to stand on my pedals and that tap my booty back on the saddle, then do a pushup on the aerobars, then lean all over this dang thing?”
It was so crazy because everyone in the room seemed to understand that this was going to happen. Uhh..where was I? I thought this here was the cycling studio. THE SPACE FOR CYCLISTS. What is all of this happening all around me?
Honestly, I tried-ish. I gave a few half-hearted movements before remembering that I possess zero rhythm and even less coordination. I felt off balance, off beat, and (this is where I hid. Hang on) off training plan.
I told myself that I have work to do for my race and I can’t be in here dancing all over this stationary bike like a lunatic. So in a room full of people who chose not to hit snooze when their alarms rang at 4:30 am so they could catch the beat with their AMP Army, I was the smug feeling weirdo who made herself comfortable on the saddle, tucked in aero, and rode steady-state for the entire class. I’m a triathlete. This isn’t for me.
Class ended fifty minutes after it began. I made some snotty comment about my training plan to the person who came and rode his heart out next to me, changed my shoes, and walked out of the room holding the idea that I’d never return for another AMP class, even if the schedule was perfect for me. The beauty of three disciplines: you can always do something else. Off I went.
the chat
I don’t remember how long it was before a friend reminded me that earth is back down here. I do know that it was during one of our daily chats about everything and nothing. I was cooking scrambled eggs when I started telling her all about this RIDICULOUS cycling class I tried recently, ready to laugh and laugh about how strange it was.
Me: “It was like being at the club. People are spinning their feet so fast. They are bouncing around and leaning here and there. I don’t even know if they are even sweating. I didn’t look around. I just knew it was insane. Maybe it’s a good place to start if you aren’t sure what kind of workout is good for you. You don’t even turn on the power meter! How would you even know you’re getting better? “
Her: “WOW. Who is this again? I thought I was talking to Sally. You know, the girl who has coached me from hardly a walker to half marathon.”
Me: “What? *Nervous laugh*
Her: “Sal, what you just described sounds really freaking fun. Maybe if you didn’t have such a stick up your ass about your identity, you’d remember that you also like dancing and really loud music. Maybe you should go in the room with no expectations; not for yourself, not for anyone else, not even for what a workout looks like. Just go. Dance. Spin. Play. Be. And stop being such a stuck-up jerk, Virginia.”
Me, feeling zero air in the room and mad conviction in my heart: “Whaaat? Huh. Ummmm…ok. Yeah. You’re probably right. Good for them. Soooo…man am I hungry. Yup. Yup yup yup. Time to eat. Bye.” Hang up.
do we get mulligans in cycling?
I was sure I’d need to try again.
I wish I could say I booked a bike that afternoon and tried again. I didn’t. I was a bit cowardly. Though I’m sure she doesn’t remember me as the jerk who ruined the mood of the room that one day months ago, I felt pretty small whenever that performer was around. I avoided AMP classes. Now, it wasn’t really because they were too elementary, but because I had built some mythology around them. These were where I was a jerk. This was the class that demanded of me something that I wouldn’t immediately nail. I’d probably be embarrassed.
One day, I just clicked the button. I was registered. I was going to go get on that bike and I was going to try whatever the Performer suggested and see where this goes.
I walked into the room (in my favorite Zyia leggings, by the way. No rookie tri shorts) set up my bike, started my watch, and hopped on to loosen the legs. Meanwhile, the gal I quickly realized would be leading us was yelling at everyone that they aren’t even ready. (She was right!) She was loud. The music was loud. The packed room was all LOUD. Everyone was HYPED UP. I couldn’t stop smiling. This was really about to be a legitimate party.
Now, I’m not going to say it was pretty, me trying to catch the beat. I was off almost the entire class. The movements were complicated. We were out of the saddle for most of the fifty minute class. Our hands were all over those bars in what I learned were numbered positions, different than on a regular bike. Sweat was honestly soaking my clothes and stinging my eyes. I couldn’t focus on that because all I was thinking about was the deep burn destroying my legs, shoulders, and arms. I was wrecked.
By the time class was over, I was different.
And that’s the point, right? That’s why we put our bodies through this type of thing. We do hard things for fun because we want more. We don’t want to float through life with all the comforts and ease that life has for us in the modern world. I mean, we do, but that PLUS pushing our limits. What can we do? How far can we go? What are we made of?
In the first class, I walked in swimming in a toxic stew of expectations and ego. When it was quickly obvious that I was not good at whatever they were doing, I wasn’t in the space to power through. I just chose not to do it, rather than trying to do it and failing. Failing isn’t for me, right?
In the second class, it was a forgone conclusion that I was going to make a goof of myself. Since I knew that, I was FREE. Free to be offbeat. Free to be leaning right when everyone else was leaning left. Free to sweat and laugh out loud and go for it.
In a delicious irony, AMP is now my favorite cycling format. I dance on that bike as often as I can make the schedule work. That first Performer? I take her class two – three times per week. I am now part of the AMP ARMY, hitting my alarm button at 4:30 am so I can catch the beat with a room full of other men and women who just want to work hard and be inspired. I consistently describe my Friday afternoon class (yes, smack dab in the middle of the afternoon. I juggle to make it work) as my favorite hour of the week. I tell everyone about it like I have found the secret to getting through the week and need to share the good news. I’m some kind of AMP Evangelist.
on being brave
You’re going to know failure if you’re brave with your life. – Brené Brown
What if my friend had been too gentle or concerned with my feelings to tell me the truth? What would I have missed if I had never been brave enough to try something so outside of my comfort zone when I knew I wouldn’t be good to start?
What do you need to say to someone you care about?
What do you need to be brave, to try again, to start over?
Think about it. Share it in the comments.
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