Find something new

I’ve recently tried out this new fitness class. You might have heard of it. It’s called The Class, one of those new age workouts that project an almost church-like atmosphere and have, no doubt, amassed an enviable congregation of worshippers. I was curious to see what they do differently. I mean, a body is a body. There are only so many ways to move it.

I don’t live in New York or LA, where their in-person studios are based, so I couldn’t experience the full immersion but the option to be a fly on the wall appealed enough to go for their online trial. We moved, we shouted, we breathed with our bellies and danced in a wild way — the things you would expect of a cult, except it is all framed in a more socially acceptable way: a fitness workout. As much as I enjoyed this unrestrained release of energy, something else really stuck with me. A phrase, to be exact:

“Find something new.”

It was repeated over and over again by their instructor during what seemed like the longest plank humanly possible. A boring exercise, if you ask me. I mean, it doesn’t take an athlete to execute and there is no particular skill involved. It’s also quite a lazy one to teach, I imagine (fitness instructors tend to get up from the floor at this point and wander round the room pretending to be helpful). As the time went on in this static tedious pose all I could focus on is the instructor’s words: “Find something new.”

I didn’t notice it at first, then it started to grate me. “Oh shut it,” - I thought. “Easy for you to say.” What can possibly be new about being still in an uncomfortable position. But eventually it got to me and I started looking, my mind wandering, desperate to hold onto something (anything!) else other than the discomfort of the situation.

Suddenly, I am made to think of a day many many years ago now when I sunbathed by the river with my best childhood friend, chatting carelessly about our dreams and aspirations. The sounds of the gentle flow of water soothing our yearning hearts, exchanging our ideas of happily ever afters. I am no longer in my body as it continues the plank. I believe in what I see, this new thought, a memory from my distant youth, where I was relaxed and happy. The physical discomfort no longer matters. I feel like I can do it forever. I find a new kind of stamina I didn’t know I had.

They say visualisation is a powerful tool and I can see why. Apparently your brain is unable to distinguish between reality and an imagined thought. You experience the same cocktail of chemicals as you would had you been there, in that memory, in that visual. You activate the same neural pathways as if you are truly experiencing the visual. You'd know this from getting stressed just at the very idea of a stressful task. How weird is that? I’ve seen what it does to my body and mind before when I practiced sitting still, thinking up vivid images guided by a visualisation coach. It was the peak of the global pandemic. It transformed me. I saw it again now.

Now, of course a plank is merely a self-imposed fitness hardship. A first world problem. But who says the same method cannot be applied, if you find yourself in a genuinely difficult situation? Or just feel stuck, tired or uninspired? You can almost always control your mind, even if your body is not free. You might be having a panic attack, be stuck in a lift or maybe you are nap-trapped with a young baby. Find something new. Find something new. Find something new. It will annoy you at first but lean into it and you’ll discover a freedom you didn’t know you had.

J.M.W. Turner, Sun Setting Over a Lake