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Over the last week I had the incredible chance to work with HFE on a new Pilates project (it’s a secret…). I was demonstrating certain exercises while being instructed by a fellow tutor, Alison. Alison has been in the fitness industry for over 40 years and has been instructing Pilates for 25. As you can imagine, she wasn’t the easiest person in the world to please. On every exercise I would get a minimum of 3 to 4 corrections — and in many cases these are exercises I’ve been doing for years. Yet there she was: adjusting my head, moving my toes, shuffling my pelvis, over and over again. Let me simply remind you that I’ve been in the industry for 15 years. She also performed static and dynamic postural assessments on me. During those, she discovered that my right shoulder is elevated, my ribs and pelvis are rotated, my right hip is compressed, I have varus knees, and I put most of my weight on the outside of my feet, avoiding contact with my toes. Oh, and I forgot to mention muscle wastage on one leg and imbalances across my shoulder muscles.

This all sounds quite shocking, right? Except it isn’t. Given that I’m in the same profession, I already knew my body is a complicated chaos, so nothing surprised me. Alison was correct in all of her observations — including some more detailed ones I wasn’t previously aware of. As for the corrections, they were all valid too. Even though I practise Pilates almost daily, the key factor is that I can’t see myself. An external eye is always more accurate than my own perception of how I’m performing an exercise.

Now imagine being a student showing up on your first day to become a Pilates instructor. If something like that happened, it would send your self-confidence to the bottom of the Mariana Trench. Constantly being corrected, being commented on your hypermobile joints or slight spinal scoliosis. I’ve seen many students on the verge of — or actually — crying due to the amount of self-reflection a course demands. Constantly comparing themselves to some ideal, untouchable version of the Pilates instructor they wish to become, and measuring just how far they are from it.

And that is exactly why the first person to receive a postural assessment in my classroom is always… me.

I bring all the students around me and ask them to “judge” my posture from every angle. Some will notice my shoulders, others my legs, until we eventually arrive at the collective conclusion that I am, well — a mess. And yet, there is nothing wrong with me. I can perform the full repertoire effortlessly. I can do handstands and splits without the slightest issue. That leads to two outcomes every student needs to understand:

Posture Is A Tool, Not An End Goal

Postural analysis gives us useful information that we can then decide how to apply in order to help our clients. It is not there to show us how far we are from some perfect ideal. The moment you treat posture as a destination — something to be achieved and then ticked off — you miss the point entirely. It is a map, not a verdict.

You Cannot See Yourself

Whether in a static position or while moving, external feedback is essential to receive the stimulus that gets us where we need to be. If I am not open to receiving feedback, how can I confidently give it to my clients? Being coachable is not a weakness. It is the foundation of being a good coach.

Now Think About Your Client

Now imagine being a client walking into their very first Pilates class. You don’t even know what Pilates is, yet here you are — being corrected, moved around, watching everyone else seem to do things effortlessly, feeling anxious just for showing up. Your clients will feel even more vulnerable than you did. They will hang on your every word and go through the exact same process you once went through. When you truly understand those two principles, you can pass them on with empathy — because you know how they feel. You know what to say. You know, because you have been one of them.

In 2014, I did my Body Pump training in the Netherlands, conducted entirely in Dutch — after only a year and a half in the country. After a brutal training weekend, and being in one of the worst shapes of my life, I crashed. I spoke to my tutor Karen and told her:

“I can’t do this. I’m shit.”

This tall, muscular, and impressive woman looked me in the eyes and said:

“You’re not shit. You’re just beginning.”

And that is the principle that has kept me going ever since.