Why I exercise (and what I really want from a fitness instructor)

I don’t care what my instructor looks like. Not one bit. They could have chiselled abs and a bum you could crack walnuts on. It doesn’t matter to me because it’s all just background noise. What I care about is how they make me feel in class. Do they have the kind of energy that makes me forget I nearly didn’t show up? Can they make me laugh when I’m sweating through my mascara looking like Alice Cooper? That’s what keeps me coming back.

At this stage in life, midlife, perimenopause, parenting a nine-year-old, juggling, surviving, the gym isn’t about chasing perfection. It’s about feeling alive. Exercise is my hour of rebellion against whatever has stressed me out during the day. It’s where I get to stop being everyone else’s problem-solver and just focus on my own body, breath, and beat.

Energy over aesthetics

When I walk into a fitness class, I’m not there to worship at the altar of the instructor’s physique. I want connection. The kind that hits me when they turn up the music, clap their hands, and I just know I’m in for a good time.

If they can light up the room, I don’t care if they’re not “Instagram-able.” In fact, I prefer it. Because when someone looks too polished, too perfect, I start to feel like I’m not good enough, a fraud, a fake – and gym is not the place for me.

Motivation that’s not rehearsed

Motivation is tricky. Some people respond to military-style shouting, others to gentle encouragement. Me? I need enthusiasm with humour.

If my instructor can make me smile between squats, I’ll keep coming back. If they remember my name, even better. It’s the small things that build motivation. That moment when they say, “Come on, you’ve got this!” and I think, “Actually, maybe I do.”

The truth is, I don’t want to be my instructor. I just want to be inspired by their attitude. Because we’re all different. Different shapes, hormones, histories, and hang-ups. My body tells its own story: an endomorph who found happiness in Zumba, body combat, gym friendships, and great playlists. I’ve had to learn to love my strong thighs, soft wobbly edges, and cellulite that come with my version of womanhood. I don’t want to change that like I used to. I just want to feel strong, confident, and, most importantly, motivated to keep going.

Midlife gap

When your energy dips and your hormones go rogue, motivation becomes a whole different beast. This is where a great instructor makes all the difference. They don’t just deliver a workout, they read the room. They know when to push and when to laugh. They sense when the energy’s low and turn it around with a killer track or a cheeky comment.

At 49, my reasons for exercising are very different. Maybe an Instagram-ready model would have inspired me in my twenties, when I thought thinness was the most important thing in the world. But not now. I’m in my late 40s and training for longevity. I want someone who shows up with their heart, not hashtags. I want to stay mobile, keep my bones strong, manage stress, and sleep better. Exercise keeps my mood stable and my mind sane. If I don’t move, I stagnate. It’s as simple as that.

Instagram versus inspiration

I’ve unfollowed more “fitspo” accounts than I can count. Perfect lighting, perfect abs, perfect angles – it’s all so… sterile.

I’d rather see someone red-faced, laughing through a set, hair stuck to their forehead, giving it their all. That’s real fitness and where the connection with others happens.

Social media has sold us this idea that to be inspirational in the gym, you have to look flawless. But in truth, the most inspiring people I know don’t look like fitness models. They’re the ones who show up week after week, no matter what life throws at them. They’re the mums who sneak in a spin class before the school run, those who come back from injury, and all the ladies tackling menopause head-on with a dumbbell in one hand and a fan in the other.

Fun makes the pain bearable

When a class is fun, the pain fades. The music takes over, the moves feel like second nature, and suddenly you’re in that zone where effort feels easy. I’ve had instructors who treat classes like a performance, and others who treat them like a party. Guess which ones keep me coming back?

Fun is essential. Because when fitness stops being fun, it becomes punishment. And no one sticks with punishment for long.

My fitness philosophy

Here’s what I’ve learned after years of sweat and self-doubt:

• Consistency beats perfection hands down. One good class is better than a plan you never start.
• Energy is contagious. Surround yourself with people who lift you up, not drain you.
• You don’t need to ‘look’ fit to be fit. Health doesn’t come with a filter.
• Fun is the secret ingredient. If it doesn’t make you smile at least once, it’s not your class.

So yes, I exercise for my health and my sense of self. And I choose fitness instructors who remind me that movement is a privilege.