Before You Can Get Fit, You Have to Embrace Your Misfit

Whenever I do a Pop-up or host a retreat, my favorite part is right before class starts. Looking out at the section of class who have no clue who I am. They look wide-eyed and terrified. I stand in the front of class like an energy vampire but instead of Colin Robinson's appetite for the mundane and painfully humdrum, I feed off of uncertain energy and anticipation.

No, it's not that I like making people nervous; what I love is a good before and after, the arc in between. Knowing full well those clenched jaws will soon relax, the edges of their mouths will eventually curl up, the racing thoughts of "Did I wear the right thing?" ... "Am I strong enough?" ... "Did I make the right decision to scarf down a pint of cottage cheese right before this?"—will all melt away. All those dire concerns won't even matter.

So I embrace that initial awkward nervous energy, knowing we're all sitting on the same runway with plane engines rumbling. In a matter of moments we're all going to get to experience our own metamorphosis, wrapped in sweat instead of silk. The transformation for me isn't realizing that you're actually fine and know exactly what to do. The transformation is knowing you might not always be fine and sometimes you won't know what you're doing - and that's okay.

There's a moth story I heard recently, it was very short and simple but I just love it. It really sums up my sentiments about new clients who feel like they're not ready, and what I tell myself when I'm nervous to try something new. Jeff Birdsall told a story about when he was a camp counselor in college. He led wilderness canoe trips for middle school boys. He said before camp starts, the counselors are given a packet with information about each of the campers they will be leading. He makes it a point to mention the camp activities are pretty rigorous; they are not just canoeing but also carrying the large 80 lbs canoes and their food packs through the wilderness to the lakes. He noticed when the counselor next to him opened his packet, he was so pleased. His campers were 12 years old, but over 6 feet tall and could bench 200 lbs. A strapping athletic bunch - "hulk monsters." Then when Jeff opened his packet, his first boy was Sam. Sam had just had a hernia operation, was 4'2" and wasn't allowed to carry over 10 lbs. Then there was Ben, who was allergic to everything, and if he was ever bitten by any one of five insects, he would instantly die. Then Frank had an extreme fear of large unfamiliar animals; the parent writes, "please do not let any one of them near him." Lastly, Andy, had brain surgery when he was a really young and "not operating at the same level as his peers." Jeff was ashamed to admit that he was worried and disappointed with his packet, concerned his job was going to be that much harder to motivate this "misfit group" through the wilderness.

When the first day of camp came, everything started fine; they seemed like a pleasant group. Then the day came when they had to hike to their first lake. They set out on the trail with their packs, while Jeff huffed ahead of them with the canoe. When he doubled back to get another canoe, he noticed he was missing a camper. He couldn't find Andy - "Losing a camper was frowned upon." He backtracked and eventually found him crying on a tree stump. He said in all his two-week intensive staff training, they never went over the protocol for what to do when a kid is crying. When he asked what was wrong, Andy said, "I miss my mom." Jeff, who was 19 at the time, just reassured him that was normal and tried to comfort him. He eventually brought him back to the rest of the group, who could sense he was emotional. They asked what happened. This is when Jeff was certain he was going to have to protect the poor kid from the other kids teasing him, "The other kids were going to eat him alive!" He was trying to strategize how he was going to handle the inevitable bullying. Young Andy told them exactly what was wrong, "I miss my mom," and started crying all over again.

The most amazing thing happened: they all gathered around him and admitted, "I miss my mom too." Before you knew it, they were all crying, even Jeff! After they had their cry in the middle of the forest together, they wiped their tears and said, "Jeff, are we going to go canoeing or what!?" So they went. They didn't go far, and they didn't go fast, and their packs were heavy. It was also a great trip. They had each other's backs, they had incredible compassion, and there was lots of laughter and love.

He said that the next week he got his new group of campers, and it was exactly the group he thought he wanted. A group of eight 12-year-old "men" who could carry a canoe with one finger. He said the packs felt light, and they went many miles, but they were tormenting each other. There was no compassion or camaraderie, just huge egos. Jeff said the trip was terrible, and he longed for his first group of guys.

Jeff learned that the burdens he worried about aren't the physical ones, not the packs or the weight of the canoe he's carrying, but the misconceptions, biases, and preconceived notions of what is going to be successful. The insecurities that race through our brains right before we try something new.

This week let's embrace our inner misfit. Just like that beautiful group of boys embraced the parts of them that felt messy and uncertain. The kind of bond and honest communication that makes bird formation so beautiful. The one in the front admits they need a break; eventually, they all admit they need a break. So one by one, they take turns leading the formation so the ones behind can rest. Without it, there wouldn't be balance; they wouldn't make it.

So just know when I look at a new group of brave attendees in a class, I'm not grinning because of the shaky, spicy, sideline series I have planned for you (although that too), I'm smiling because I'm already proud of you for showing up. Showing up with an open heart and willingness to try something new ... and sometimes hard. I'm excited for our journey together where we might not go far, we might not go fast, our limbs might feel heavy - but it's going to be a great class.

Excited to make your bodies sweat, smile, and have emotions. Then wipe our tears to say, "Celeste, are we going to do Pilates or what?"

XO,

Celeste