When I first started teaching group fitness, I couldn’t stand hooking myself up to the microphone. Hearing my voice booming over a sound system felt like the most unnatural, uncomfortable feeling.
I hesitated when I spoke, bracing myself against the sound of my own voice. Instead of speaking into the microphone, I’d try to create as much distance between that windscreen and my mouth, like it was going to bite me.
It took a good handful of classes before I stopped feeling self conscious about the sound and tone of my voice. As I got used to hearing myself and speaking into the mic, I realized part of my issue with the mic was my relunctance to fully embrace teaching. I was holding back. If the class could hear my voice loud and clear, then I was volunerable. Out there. And if (or when) I made a mistake, it would be amplified.
But I didn’t want to hold back. I wanted to be out there. Because group fitness is my true love. That thing I choose to do everyday, that thing that is not just something I do but a part of who I am and my routine. It’s the thing that gets me to that stage of flow where I lose track of time.
I’ve been creeping out of my shell and broadcasting my love for BodyStep loud and proud in my classes. And this past weekend, I got to see my group fitness idols at the Les Mills Super Quarterly event in Baltimore.
It was my first Super Q, and I got to share the experience with a whole bunch of my group fitness friends. Watching 200 people squat, lunge, clean and press, basic step, and grapevine in sync complete with strobe lights and loud music epitomized what we instructors mean by “the group effect.” You just can’t help but get into it.
After seven classes, 13 hours, two power bars, and several changes of clothes later, I left Baltimore feeling invigorated and jazzed up to teach my next class. And my arms hurt so bad, I could barely lift my hands to my head to wash my hair.
What I’ve learned as an instructor spills over to all aspects of my life. I bring enthusiasm and energy to my life, feel power over my days, and speak up so I’m loud and heard.