Confession time, tribe. I used to hate working out. Not just hate, loathe. In fact, anytime my husband merely suggested that I join him at the gym, I felt like punching him in the face. Why was I so hostile? What was making me actively resist working out? And how the hell am I now a fitness professional who spends most of her days drenched in sweat and powered by endorphins? I’ll explain.

When I hated working out it was because I didn’t know how to work out. I knew how to dance and I knew how to be active, but going to the gym never appealed to me. I felt bored. I felt like I should be there, but not like I wanted to be there. I thought, if I were supposed to be working out then I would be good at this. I guess that’s just not me. That was the same reason I refused to run. Running is perhaps the simplest way to work out - no equipment, no skill set, just one foot in front of the other, and yet I thought I was bad at it so I refused. It hurt, I ran out of breath quickly, I couldn’t go as far as my friends, I didn’t have the right shoes. All of these things made me think, Court, you are not a runner. I believed if I was a runner, it would be easy.

My problem wasn’t that my body couldn’t do it. I didn’t like working out because my mind couldn’t do it. I didn’t understand why I should. I was fit enough; why did I need to be toned? I have always been petite, so why did I need to be strong? It felt like the only reason to work out was to be skinny, and that felt empty to me. That felt shallow and silly and like a waste of time.

Then I found myself at a bit of a life crossroads. I’ll spare you the sad details, but needless to say I had some time on my hands and found myself trying new workouts with friends. I started going to group classes and realized that with a little instruction I was actually pretty good. But that wasn’t the reason I became a fitness junkie. It was the results. I saw changes in my body. I saw changes in my mood. And I realized why I was seeing results.

The funny thing is that realization came in classes when (just like in my non-running days) it hurt; I ran out of breath quickly, I couldn’t do it as well as everyone else and I didn’t have the right shoes. But the difference was that I stayed in it. That’s why I saw results. I stayed with the discomfort. I saw everyone else going for it, and I thought, well maybe I’ll just try.

During one particular class, I was holding a plank and I had an epiphany: Working out is not about being the best, working out is about putting yourself in impossible positions (read: plank) and enduring. Working out is about overcoming the silly stories in your head about who you are and who you’re not. Working out is about transforming into the best version of you.

When I started seeing physical results, I realized that I had more energy, more enthusiasm, more positivity. And, let’s be honest, I loved when people saw me and said, Whoa you look amazing! That felt really good because I knew that I owned it; I had created that by staying with my discomfort. I chose it. When I figured out that I could own the change in my body and my mind just by showing up to class, I loved every sweaty minute and never looked back.