You pour your heart into planning the perfect class but once it’s over you end up second guessing whether people really liked it.

You’re called to help others find the joy of movement but you’re not sure what sets you apart from all the other instructors or millions of fitfluencers on social media.

You’re quick to help out by picking up open classes but you secretly dread subbing because you just know you’ll never measure up what people in class are expecting.

Teaching literally lights you up inside but you’re struggling to find time for what made you fall in love with fitness to begin with and your own workouts have turned into class planning sessions.

That’s because inner confidence doesn’t come from external validation and recognition, past achievements, or how many continuing education credits you’ve collected. It comes from within you. Confidence blossoms from action and and action sprouts from trust. It comes from knowing you are capable. It comes when you feel safe to be yourself.

What you need is a support system you can trust and confide in when you don’t know all the answers. A group of your peers that validates your feelings and understands the unique struggles of a fitness instructor. A group where you feel safe to take action and aren’t afraid of making mistakes. What you need is guidance and community.

At first, when I started teaching, it felt like I was throwing spaghetti at a wall, tossing out cues aimlessly and seeing what stuck. I’d watch monthly choreo releases and attempt to “copy paste” them into my own classes.

I’d take classes taught by instructors I looked up to, all while mentally taking note of what I’d do similarly or differently. I’d try to imitate what I saw work for them. 

And it worked, a bit. But I still struggled to SEE myself as a fitness professional. I still felt stuck in the land of imposters.  Copying others made it so hard to figure out who I was as an instructor.

I eventually got to a point where I was teaching on auto-pilot, a point that I originally thought would’ve been a sign that I really knew what I was doing. If I could do something with my eyes closed, I must be good at it, right? I’ll spoil it for you: I was wrong.  

Teaching on auto-pilot turned into going through the motions. Going through the motions meant tuning out. And tuning out meant my mind was looking for things to busy itself with (I’m very good at keeping busy lol). So it went straight to all my old stories. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing. How can you teach others when you don’t know anything?”

“No one likes your classes. They say so just to be polite.” 

Listening to my very harsh, and very loud, inner critic meant I wasn’t showing up for my students. I was holding back. I was buying into all my fears. 

Fears of no one showing up to my classes. Fears of not knowing what to do if someone came in with a health condition I wasn’t familiar with. Fears of stumbling over my words in class or blanking on what came next. Fears of ultimately not being enough no matter how hard I tried.

I tried to pull myself out of it by doing what I do best, being a student.  This meant lots of self-guided learning, pacing the aisles of Barnes & Nobles, and attending as many classes and workshops as I could find.  And when everyone was thrown into the online space in 2020, I was signing up for certification after certification, a handful of which I have yet to finish and none of which made me feel any more sure of myself as a fitness professional.

What I was missing was staring me in the face the whole time. It’s the whole reason I fell in love with fitness, and particularly group fitness, to begin with. 

The first puzzle piece was mindfulness. For my own personal workouts, I’d always been drawn to the connection between mind and body in a workout. Even in non-traditional mind-body classes I’d try to add an element of mindfulness into my movement practices. Yoga was time for inner observation. Walking my dog was an opportunity to become aware of the present moment. Running was a chance to find myself in a flow state.  

The other puzzle piece was community. I was missing interaction with other fitness instructors. The ability to bounce ideas off of one another before class. The sense of connection and camaraderie when hearing someone else share they were facing the same fears I had. 

Mentorship and coaching helped me get back in line with the growth mindset that preceded my fears and doubts. Working with a mentor and in a coaching container with other fitness professionals helped me find and embrace my own teaching identity, one where I didn’t need to “fake it” or mimic others I looked up to. One where my two fields, fitness and psychology, could merge into one. Thus the Mindful Fit Pro was created. 

It wasn’t until I started filling my own classes with acts of mindfulness and teaching from a place that honored my authentic self, that I no longer worried about being “good enough” for others. I know I’m enough. 

With the Mindful Fit Pro Mentorship, I want to help other fitness instructors facing the same fears I once had. I want to share how mindfulness can impact not just your teaching but your life outside of the studio. I want to create a space for fitness instructors to recognize their authentic self, teach to their strengths, and realize they are already incredibly talented.