Two years ago a postcard advertising a personal trainer
certification program arrived in my mailbox. It wasn’t a particularly
noteworthy event, except that instead of throwing it immediately into the
recycling bin, I held onto it. And began to do a little research into exactly
what the certification process would entail.
I couldn’t imagine how I would use said credential, yet the
idea of adding personal trainer to my resume nagged at me like an itchy bug
bite. I mentioned it to my sister…who promptly agreed to enroll in the program
with me.
After several months of discomfiting study that filled us
both with fears of inadequacy, we completed the coursework. All that remained was
the certification exam. My sister went first, early in the morning, and I followed
suit on the same day, albeit after lunch. We both passed with flying colors.
A few months later we attended our first “Fit Fest,” a
weekend of workshops meant to build our skills and knowledge. We were at a
distinct disadvantage, never having worked in the fitness industry nor having
had the benefit of secondary education in anatomy or kinesiology, yet our lack
of experience somehow cemented our sense of purpose to serve a niche we knew well: women like us.
We realized that the workout world does not need more
trainers who scream at female clients, or berate them for not pushing hard
enough, or call them fat. The workout world does not need any more “fitness professionals”
who pretend that the very real barriers that keep the average woman from exercise are, in essence, poorly disguised flaws of character.
The workout world does not need any more exercise programs
from purveyors who promise total transformation in twelve weeks, when they know
darn well that the shock of the training intensity and volume of time required
will weed out most of the purchasers by week two.
The workout world does not need another miracle gadget, pill,
powder, cream, diet, or meal replacement shake. It also does not need any more
albums’ worth of photo-shopped before and after success stories touting these product
lines.
What the workout world does need is a liberal dose of
reality when it comes to women’s health and fitness. It needs to stop selling
the notion that wrinkles and dimples and body fat percentages beyond the single
digit range somehow represent inferiority to an imagined ideal.
Women are conditioned from a very young age to believe that
skinny means fit, and to focus on meaningless numbers on a scale as a predictor
of self-worth. They are taught to ignore the miracle of the body that serves
them, to loathe the very things about it that make it so remarkable.
A hundred years ago my great-grandmother delivered a baby
and a few short hours later, went out to milk the cows. Did she spend hours in
a gym training for strength or spend hours pounding out miles on the treadmill
to build her endurance? No. The activities of her daily life gave her exactly
what her body needed.
I’ve bought many training programs over the years (those
infomercials can be pretty convincing), but their potential for transformation seems to have been relegated to the weight of my wallet. It’s not that
I’m lazy or lax in my efforts—it’s that I quickly lose motivational steam. Training
for the sake of appearance sucks the joy right out of movement.
What women need to be training for is life. Muscular
size and definition matter little if you don’t have the core strength to
support your spine or the balance to prevent falls. Training in functional
ways, mimicking the movements you use in daily life, strengthens the muscles
that matter most and doesn’t require extensive equipment or exorbitant amounts
of time.
Fitting in fitness is easier than most people realize. Maybe
beginning a workout regimen wouldn’t be so daunting if it weren’t structured as
a systematic all-or-nothing program. Maybe if people were eased into it, the
risk of attrition would be next to nil.
If fitness endeavors were perceived less as work and more as
play, they might be a little more appealing to the masses. And if fitness was
perceived as a speedy and effective means of improving quality of life—that, too, might
ease the transition into it.
I’ve started exploring these possibilities in my
kindergarten classroom this year by building in movement breaks. Kids are born
as movers and shakers, but sedentary habits creep up quickly. Early in the year
my students approximated the movements I introduced with poor form that indicated a
lack of core strength. Over time, however, both their approximations and form have steadily improved.
More importantly, my students are taking the lead in moving their bodies. If they
don’t care for a particular exercise, they substitute another that feels better to
them. They’ve turned our movement breaks into dramatic (and sometimes silly)
play. We growl as we bear-crawl around the classroom. We pretend to pinch each
other when we crab-walk.
When we’re jogging in place, someone will call out, “Oh, no! Here
comes a lion!” to pick up the pace. We even invent new movements—like climbing
a pretend hill and dropping to our bellies in a superman pose to toboggan down
it. The kids don’t realize that what they’re doing is technically exercise. They only know
it as fun.
If five- and six-year-olds demonstrate a noticeable benefit from three minute increments of body weight movements, imagine how those sorts of activities could positively impact adults and families.
There is power in movement—and strength, and endurance, and the potential for a
healthy appreciation for what the body can do. And empowering women to be
strong, flexible, and fit increases the odds that their spouses and children
will follow suit.
This is what my sister and I envision when we picture our
future in the workout world: getting women and their families moving in
playful, purposeful ways.