The Fishbowl Problem
It’s not the goal that stops us. It’s being seen at the beginning of it.
I spent the heart of the pandemic years “walking it off.” All over NW Portland with my two trusty golden retrievers. Up to the Rose Gardens. Through Washington Park. The trails in the arboretum. Up to Pittock Mansion. Almost every day to Chapman Elementary and around down to NW 23rd. Usually listening to some kind of inspiring podcast while I walked.
As we moved further from the immediacy of those pandemic days and people started coming back together, I knew it was time for me to re-engage as well. I needed to find a routine I could do inside at the gym especially during the dark, rainy Portland winters, and honestly, I wanted to be around other people more.
The latest health chatter was (and still is) all about building strength. How we all need to be lifting heavy weights. Don’t let your muscle mass decline. Your muscles activate your metabolism (Really?) They help balance your hormones and on and on.
I have a decent familiarity with weight machines. I’ve done my fair share of personal training and physical therapy over the years. But it had been a long time since I’d had a regular weights routine and up to this point, I had never used the machines at this gym.
And using the machines in this weight room…is basically like being a fish in a fish bowl.
People stand on a balcony above and look down into the room. The cardio machines ring the main exercise room facing toward the center where the weight machines are. It’s usually pretty crowded with people of all ages.
Just walking to the leg press machine in the very center of the room feels like the very essence of “putting yourself out there.”
I’m someone who does best with a plan otherwise I become overwhelmed with decisions and am easily distracted. I knew I’d need one before I stepped foot in that weight room so I combined a weights routine from a personal trainer I’d seen 20 years ago with a recent physical therapy routine into a spreadsheet. Nothing fancy. The name of the machine, the reps, the weight, and the date so I could track my progress. Saved to the cloud so I could pull it up at the gym. I wasn’t sure if these were the exercises I should be doing, but it was somewhere to start.
When I walked into the fish bowl that first time, I felt incredibly self-conscious. I have always prided myself on being in shape most of my life but between the stress of the pandemic years and navigating the wild ride that is perimenopause and beyond….I hadn’t kept up with it.
Walking out to the leg press so many thoughts swirled through my head:
Am I connected to the wifi?
What should I listen to?
Do I have my headphones?
Where are the towels?
Should I wipe down the machine?
Where will I stretch when I’m done?
Are there mats I can use?
Do I recognize anyone?
Does anyone recognize me?
Are they thinking…is that Carrie?
Is she looking older? Out of shape? Like she’s gained some weight?
Is her hair lighter? Did she go blond? Wait…does she have gray roots showing?
Is she still wearing Lululemon yoga pants?
And no-show socks? Aren’t those out now?
I started to feel like I should just quietly back up and leave. I felt too exposed. But somewhere in the back of my mind, some of that inspiration I had listened to during my pandemic walks came back to me. Brendon Burchard has a line that I especially hold closely—the notion that it isn’t actually fear holding us back from going after a goal or making a change in our lives, it’s that we’re embarrassed to be seen starting small.
Starting again as a beginner at an age where we feel like we shouldn’t have to be a beginner ever again.
I managed to make it to the leg press machine. It took a bit to get the chair set correctly for my legs. To figure out how to set the weight on this specific machine. How to line up my feet for the push. I was certain someone must be waiting for a turn and was growing ever more impatient as I fumbled around trying to get situated enough to start.
I finally began. I couldn’t even listen to a podcast because I had to focus on what I was doing and try not to pay attention to the fact that not far in front of me were some young men who had grown up with my kids.
Is that Mrs. Minns? Carrie? Does she even know what she’s doing?
I got up from that machine and wandered around looking for another familiar machine while staring at the spreadsheet on my phone. The names of the machines from my routine of 20 years ago were not the same as the names on these machines and so it took a bit of searching to find the ones I needed.
Is that woman lost? Should she even be in here?
I wanted to leave. But I forced myself to find one more machine to use before deciding that was enough “putting myself out there” for one day.
It’s been a few years now since I went back to my weights routine. I can now do a full routine without so much ticker tape noise. But it’s true. Those first few times….I was deeply self-conscious. Not because I didn’t want to get stronger. Not because I was afraid of the work but because I didn’t quite know what I was doing. And it felt like everyone could see that.
I find that this is at the core of something I struggle with when pursuing my goals or making changes in my life. It’s not the dream or the goal that scares me. It’s being seen at the beginning of it.
That uncomfortable beginning where I’m fumbling around, asking all sorts of questions, trying to get my bearings, trying different options, making all kinds of mistakes…in front of other people who seem to navigate it all so effortlessly.
And maybe that’s the real struggle for more of us than we care to admit. Not the goal. Not the fear. Just the quiet embarrassment of being a beginner again.
But we all have to walk into the fishbowl at some point.
Cheers,
Carrie