A good amount of the fitness community seems to be convinced that lifting weights in a gym is the only way to get in shape, and that’s great for anyone who is truly passionate about the practice—but what if the concept of picking up heavy shit and putting it down over and over again bores you to tears?
What if racing along a moving platform like a hamster on a wheel makes you want to scream?
Photo credit: What Is My Health
A few years into recovery, I was still going to the gym. And while I’d formed a healthier relationship with it and was no longer pushing myself through counterproductively long workouts, it was still largely unenjoyable to me. I hated the monotony of running on treadmills or gasping for air on the stairmaster, and while I did manage to find some enjoyment while lifting weights, it was quickly snuffed out by all of the creepy and/or men who sauntered around the free weight area like it belonged to them.
I’d wake up at 5:30 a.m. to squeeze in a pre-work workout and avoid the gym creeps as much as possible—years of experience have taught me that the later you go, the weirder the men get—but the environment still felt so insufferable to me. The equipment stunk of sweat and metal, I had permanent calluses on my hands, and every machine and/or exercise I tried to fall in love with just felt so unnatural to my body.
I also saw little-to-no progress, which was frustrating at the time, but now, I understand why: I was severely underestimating the mental health aspect of wellness. If your mind isn’t happy with what you’re doing to “stay in shape”, you’ll struggle to see the results you’re so desperate for. That’s why it’s so important to find a routine you are holistically connected to and passionate about. Tons of people around the world genuinely love lifting weights at the gym, and that’s wonderful—I’m just not one of them.
Rediscovering my love for dance
COVID stay-at-home orders forced me to divorce the gym, which was a diamond in the rough of the pandemic for me. Tasked with finding a way to creatively work out from home and remain somewhat mentally afloat in the midst of global distress, I was able to rediscover my love of dance, which I grew up doing. From ballet, belly dance and jazz to musical theater, Afro beats, and hip hop, I’d always loved a wide variety of creative movement—I guess I’d just forgotten how it made my heart sing.
March 2020: It was time to remember again. It was just me, YouTube, and my old jazz shoes from high school against the world. I’d taken six or seven years away from the craft, and I felt it. A few minutes into a ballet dance fitness video and I was sweating, shaking, and shockingly out of breath. I laughed at myself, feeling sufficiently humbled by the experience and realizing just how many different ways there are to push your body to a healthy limit outside of the gym.
I’d also forgotten how much joy dancing brought me; despite the deep exhaustion, I felt like a giddy little girl again, and I was empowered to push through the pain because of how much fun I was having. It was nothing like the monotony of bicep curls and stair climbs, where I watched the clock and begged for it to be over. I was lost in the movements I was learning; my mind and body were fully engaged, and I was immediately hooked.
Are you bored with your fitness routine?
Reflect on how you feel about your current workout regimen. Are you truly enjoying it, or just going through the motions?
From student to teacher
The relationship I rebuilt with dance from the safety of my living room was a sacred period in my life. I was able to rediscover something I loved in private, and this gave me the chance to build up my confidence in a safe space so I could sway to the music with abandon after so many years spent away from the dance floor. While I found so much childhood happiness in the dance studios I grew up in, I also faced a lot of judgment: a sinister thing that is built into most dance cultures and results in widespread insecurity, body dysmorphia, and oftentimes, eating disorders. If you grew up as a dancer, you know what I’m talking about.
Dancing from my living room allowed me to forget all of the cons that often come with dancer culture, and I was able to engage with my passion with none of the self-consciousness. I saw more endurance progress in my first year of dancing than I had in the past almost-decade of weightlifting. Somatic movement helped me shed a lot of the anxiety and depression I’d been dealing with, and physically, I grew lighter on my feet, my reflexes sharpened, and I became much more toned overall.
The mental health benefits of dance are well-documented, like reduced symptoms of anxiety and depression, a boost in mood, and enhanced cognitive function. For me, it was the perfect remedy for both my physical and mental well-being, and a delightful reminder of the Taylor I was before anorexia threw off my center.
My mind is so engaged and satiated when I’m dancing, it doesn’t feel like a struggle. Sure, keeping up with fast-paced music and pushing my body further is always a challenge, but it’s one I enjoy, crave, and gravitate toward every day.
My Dance in the Park class takes place every Friday and Saturday from 11am-12pm in Rancho Santa Margarita. For more information, contact me today.
Five years later, I share my passion with others on a weekly basis. My goal is to remove the negatives from dance class entirely, offering a community that is welcoming, fun, and safe for everyone to explore what it feels like to move your body to the rhythm. My dance classes hold no place for criticism: my students are there to learn new ways to express themselves, feel empowered, and safely exude the sensual, somatic confidence that lives in all of us.
My classes include a variety of Afro beats, hip hop, belly dance, salsa, and ballet conditioning. I keep my students very involved when it comes to deciding what we’ll work on each week, because it’s important to me that the experience remains centered in community: the goal is to get fit while enjoying each other’s company, and doing it to a fire playlist every time.
So please—come dance with me! It’s my favorite way to connect with people, and I want to share everything I’ve learned about self-love and recovery through movement. Email me at taylorfengle@gmail.com today to learn about my next class.
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