I Used to Hate the Gym. Now I Go Every Day.

For a long time, I hated the gym. I just didn’t feel comfortable there. The atmosphere was often dark, smelled like sweat, and felt full of people I just couldn’t connect with.

I kept telling myself: “The gym is boring. People who go there are this or that. It’s not for me.” I said or thought these things so often, and so definitively, that they became part of who I was. They shaped the way I saw myself, and the way I saw the world.

And in a way, they also kept me safe. Holding on to those thoughts meant I could stay where I was. “Comfortable”. Not feel better, but also not risk getting worse.

Because sometimes feeling better can be scary. It means stepping out of that place where things may not be great, but at least they’re familiar. Out of what I call the “uncomfortable comfort zone” (more on that in another post).

Starting to Shift

At that time, I was slowly getting back into movement after being in bed for months because of illness. I started playing volleyball again, going on little hikes… and I loved it. I was finally feeling good again. But my body wasn’t keeping up. My knees hurt, my legs ached, and after a short while I felt exhausted. It became clear that something needed to change.

Maybe even my perception of the gym.

So I began to imagine the life I could have, the person I wanted to be: someone strong, someone active, someone who could move with ease and enjoy it. That image became a kind of compass for me.

Around then, I came across an idea in Atomic Habits by James Clear that stayed with me. He wrote that if you want to build a habit, don’t just focus on what you do—focus on who you are. Instead of saying, “I go to the gym,” try saying, “I’m a sporty person.” That small shift in language mattered. It gave me a new way of seeing myself, and with it, a reason to try.

The First Attempts

So I began going to the gym. At first, it wasn’t great. I didn’t have a plan, I tried to do it all by myself, and—surprise, surprise—I wasn’t seeing results. I would show up, wander around, move for 20 minutes, and then leave, completely demotivated. And of course, the thought would creep in right away: “What’s the point?”

Without results, and with those thoughts in my head, it was easy to skip the gym for weeks at a time.

But then I realized—I needed a change of mindset.

I started to remind myself that even those short visits mattered. Going from nothing to 20 minutes was already such a big change. Already so much progress. So I began to see every step—just leaving the house, just showing up—as a win. And I learned to celebrate those small victories.

Reframing and Finding What Worked

Another realization came: going alone didn’t work for me. I would always find an excuse to cut it short. So I tried something different—something I never ever thought would be for me: classes. Joining a class meant I couldn’t just walk out halfway. I had to stay. I had to do the work.

Smart, right?

But classes came with their own challenge: fixed times. It was too easy to say, “I can’t make it because of the schedule,” and simply not go. So, with the mindset shift in place, I began putting them into my calendar, treating them as appointments with myself.

It was my way of saying: this matters, I matter.

Still, there were days I didn’t go. And that was okay. It wasn’t about perfection. Because I was still recovering, there were times my body genuinely needed rest, and honoring that was part of the process. But other times, the “I don’t feel like it” was just resistance—the pull to stay in the uncomfortable comfort zone.

Learning to tell the difference became essential. I had to check in with my body and ask: Am I truly tired, or am I just resisting change?

Beyond the Gym

At this point, I started to realize something: it wasn’t only about my relationship with my body, it was also about my relationship with myself.

When I said I would go and didn’t, I was breaking a promise I had made to myself. I was letting myself down.

It sounds intense when we put it that way, but it’s not so different from how we see relationships with others. If someone tells you they’ll do something and then they don’t, they let you down. Once is fine. But if it happens often, you start to realize you can’t really trust them.

That’s exactly what was happening with me.

Every time I didn’t go to the gym—especially on the days when it was just “laziness” talking—I was breaking that promise to myself. I was telling myself, “this doesn’t matter as much, I don’t matter as much.” But when I said I would go and did (even for 20 minutes) it was like adding another stone to the foundation of trust.

That balance, between listening to my body and keeping promises to myself, was the foundation of how I built both consistency and a deeper commitment to my well-being.

Where I Am Today

Going to the gym is still something I have to commit to every day. Is it easy? Not always. Most days, it isn’t. There’s still that little voice whispering: “What’s the point? Why the effort? Let’s stay on the couch—we’re happy here.”

But the curve of resistance has become smaller. That voice has grown quieter.

The truth is, it works. I feel the difference: I’m stronger, more active, lighter in my body. As someone who once lived with knee and leg pain, moving without aching feels like a revelation. It keeps me coming back.

Beyond the physical strength, the gym has become a way of strengthening my relationship with myself. Every time I go, I prove to myself that I can show up. That I can take care of me.

That I can allow myself to feel better.

Closing

So no, I didn’t wake up one day loving the gym. It has been a slow, uneven process of showing up, failing, starting again, and gradually building a habit—one step at a time.

For me, the gym is the path, but it doesn’t have to be yours. What matters is the deeper meaning: building a stronger relationship with yourself through your body. Whatever the form—gym, dancing, running, yoga—the foundation is the same: creating trust with yourself, and strengthening the connection between your body, your mind, and your soul.

Showing yourself that you can care. That you invest. That you follow through.

That you matter.

Love, Caro.