Tag: Treadmill

  • “GYMTIMIDATION!” What It Is, Why We All Get It, and How to Beat The Anxiety

    Photo by Danielle Cerullo on Unsplash

    Walking into a gym in today’s society, can feel like stepping into a foreign world. Machines that look like medieval torture devices, perfectly coordinated fitness outfits everywhere, and the unspoken rules that no one explains…it’s enough to make even the most confident person freeze. This feeling has a name: Gymtimidation. It’s that sinking feeling of “everyone knows what they’re doing except me,” mixed with mild panic, mild envy, and sometimes a desperate need for the toilet. Sound familiar? You are not alone…

    According to a 2022 survey by The Gym Group, one in three Brits suffer from gymtimidation, with 32% of women citing it as the biggest barrier to joining. Additionally, 53% of women are deterred from joining gyms due to perceived pressure to wear lycra. This widespread anxiety isn’t just about body image; 29% of people have felt uncomfortable in the gym because they didn’t know how to use equipment.


    In this post, we’ll explore what ‘gymtimidation’ really is and why so many of us experience it. We’ll share some painfully true stories, and give you practical tips to survive the chaos…or run for the wine fridge, whichever you feel works best!

    Gymtimidation is the official term for feeling like a fish out of water in the fitness world. Symptoms include:

    • Pretending you know what a cable pulley does while standing awkwardly tying your lace and silently panicking.
    • Worrying that your old freshers t-shirt is being judged on Instagram by brand obsessive gym-snobs.
    • Overthinking every stride on the treadmill like it’s the final scene in a fitness movie montage. 

    In short, it’s the gym’s version of social anxiety, sprinkled with a healthy dose of paranoia. And guess what? Almost everyone experiences it! Yes, even the ones flexing in front of the mirror like their reflection owes them money.

    It’s simple: gyms are basically a high-pressure reality TV show with questionable rules, and we’re all contestants pretending we belong. Here’s why almost everyone feels this anxiety:

    At the gym, there’s always someone who seems to have been born with perfect form. They hop between machines like it’s an Olympic event, lift weights like they were forged in the gym gods’ lair, and somehow manage to look effortless while sweating. Meanwhile, you’re staring at a leg abductor like it’s a prop from Star Trek, silently wondering if pressing the wrong lever will launch you into orbit.

    From perfectly coordinated leggings and sports bras to trainers that have never touched a pavement, the pressure to “look the part” is real. We’ve now entered the era of the ‘bum-sculpt’ Lycra – designed to lift and shape, but in reality it mostly wedges itself into places that definitely weren’t meant for that much friction. Meanwhile, you’re rocking the oversized t-shirt, shorts with a worn hole in the crotch, and trainers that have seen far better days. Comfort > style, but that doesn’t stop your inner critic from cringing with every mirror glance. On the bright side, at least you won’t be constantly yanking your pants out of uncomfortable places!

    Machines are complicated. Buttons, levers, pulleys – one wrong adjustment, and suddenly you’re stuck in a leg press contortion act while everyone silently judges your technical incompetence. Even simple things like adjusting a treadmill speed can feel like diffusing a bomb in an action movie, or the pulldowns…one wrong move and suddenly you’re launching the weight like a catapult, praying no one’s close enough to get hit. And let’s be honest, we would much rather escape quickly with our dignity than ask a real human for help.

    The Machine Hog: there’s always one person who treats the popular machines like their personal sofa, scrolling TikTok between half-hearted reps while you hover nearby, trying not to look too desperate.

    The Rep Question: nothing strikes fear like “How many sets you got left?” Sets? Reps? Honestly, I’m just trying not to drop this barbell on my face. And your hovering presence isn’t exactly speeding up my progress!

    Musical Chairs: you finally build the courage to try a new machine, only to realise three other people have laid claim to it with towels, water bottles, or the unspoken “I was here first” glare. Do you wait? Do you move on? Do you cry in the changing room?

    The Weights Scatter: why does every dumbbell under 10kg vanish into thin air, yet the floor is littered with the heaviest ones nobody normal can lift? It’s like a gym-based treasure hunt, but without the reward.

    At the end of the day, it’s a cocktail of envy, insecurity, and uncertainty – shaken, not stirred –  with a generous dash of maybe I should’ve just stayed home with a glass of wine. 🍷

    One of my earliest gym visits is burned into my memory:

    I’d only been a few times, confidence barely making an appearance and courage nowhere to be seen. I had been making the rookie mistake of heading straight for the “safe zone” – the treadmill. Though this time, walking briskly, I felt smug. As if this time around, on my third visit, I could class myself as an avid gym member…until gravity had other plans. Out of nowhere, I realised I needed the loo. Badly. But I didn’t want to look weird (or worse, like a quitter) by leaving just five minutes after I’d arrived. So I sucked it in and persevered.

    Big mistake.

    Next, I decided it was time to try the leg press. As I drew my legs toward me, disaster struck: I farted. Loudly. Loud enough that the whole gym might have heard, though I prayed everyone had AirPods blasting “Eye of the Tiger.” I called time, abandoned ship, high-tailed it out of there before the smell confirmed my guilt, and learned a valuable lesson: always use the loo before entering the gym.

    This, dear reader, is why Gymtimidation exists – humiliation is lurking at every corner, and yet somehow, it’s hilarious in hindsight.

    Have a simple workout plan, so you don’t end up wandering around pretending to belong like a lost extra in a spy film. Bonus: writing it down on your phone makes you look intentional, not confused.

    Wear clothes that make you feel like a functioning human, not a fitness influencer auditioning for Love Island. If that means your comfiest leggings or a t-shirt from 2007, so be it. Lycra bum-sculpt wedgies are strictly optional.

    Most gyms offer free tutorials from staff – use them, the embarrassment is in your head. YouTube is also your friend: watch at home, practise in your living room, pretend you’re a professional, then enter the gym with enough confidence to at least look like you know which lever does what. Accidental orbit launches, again, are optional.

    Avoid peak hours if you can. A quieter gym means fewer witnesses to your accidental grunts, squeaks, or machine-induced confusion. Plus, no one’s hovering behind you asking how many “reps” you’ve got left. If they do, a classy flip of the finger works a treat!

    A friend provides moral support, spotting, and comedy value. Bonus: you’ll have someone to laugh with when things inevitably go wrong… or when your leg press results in an unexpected trumpet solo.

    Everyone messes up. Machines malfunction, form slips, treadmills rebel – it’s part of the game. Laugh at yourself, keep moving, and remember: gym humiliation fades faster than your playlist when your AirPods run out of battery. No one is looking, no one cares and neither should you.

    Walking into a gym can feel like turning up to a party where everyone else knows the dance moves — but here’s the thing: no one’s really watching you as much as you think they are. Most people are too busy checking their own form (or secretly filming TikToks) to care that you’re still figuring out which way the rowing machine faces.

    The secret isn’t to eliminate the nerves, but to carry on anyway. Start small. Clap for yourself when you learn how to adjust a seat without it clattering loudly across the room. Celebrate the moment you realise no one actually cares that your socks don’t match. And if you survive an entire session without accidentally breaking wind mid-squat? That’s basically a personal best.

    Gymtimidation doesn’t disappear overnight, but it shrinks each time you show up. With every awkward attempt, you’re building not just muscle but confidence too. Besides, if you think this is a lot, just wait until we dive into the great ‘protein powder myth’. Spoiler alert: it’s not always the ‘whey’ forward!

    So… walk in, give it a go, and don’t worry if you look a bit clueless. We all do. Worst case scenario? There’s always wine, and it never once asked you how many reps you had left. 🍷

    ON THAT NOTE…

    CHEERS…to lifting our confidence (and occasionally a dumbbell, if we must)!

    See ya soon

    H x