I Didn’t Realize How Much I Missed Being the Coach and the Beginner

I did not realize how much I missed coaching until I found myself standing beside a Pilates reformer, watching someone else move instead of doing the entire workout with them.

That may sound like a small distinction, but for me, it is not.

In most of the classes I teach, I am all the way in. I am demonstrating, moving, sweating, talking, laughing, encouraging, and bringing the energy right alongside everyone else. I have never been the kind of instructor who quietly stands in the corner and counts.

I am probably doing more of the workout than I technically need to be doing.

That is part of what people know me for. I go all in. I want the room to feel alive. I want people to feel as though we are doing something together, not as though I simply handed them a list of exercises and turned on a timer.

And I love teaching that way.

But reformer training is bringing me back to something I had not experienced in quite the same way for years.

Coaching.

Not performing the workout while coaching. Not trying to cue, demonstrate, motivate, watch everyone, and complete every repetition at the same time.

Just coaching.

Watching closely. Listening. Adjusting. Looking at what someone’s body is doing and deciding what they need to hear next. Helping them understand where they should feel the movement, how they might improve it, and when they are ready to progress.

I had forgotten how much I enjoy that.

Years ago, I taught more group training and high-intensity interval sessions. Those formats required a different kind of presence. I might demonstrate the movement, but I was not expected to complete the entire workout beside the class.

My job was to move through the room.

To observe.

To encourage.

To notice when someone was losing form, holding back, rushing, or discovering that they were capable of more than they thought.

There is something incredibly satisfying about being fully responsible for the coaching.

Reformer Pilates brings me back to that, while also asking me to become a beginner again.

I already teach Pilates on the floor, so the underlying principles are familiar. But the reformer is its own world.

There is an apparatus to understand. Springs to select. A carriage that moves. A footbar, straps, shoulder blocks, boxes, platforms, and dozens of small decisions that affect how an exercise feels and how safely it can be performed.

The same movement can become an entirely different experience depending on the setup, the resistance, the position of the body, and the way it is cued.

It is familiar enough that I recognize the language, but new enough that I have to concentrate.

I have not learned a completely new fitness format in years, and I did not realize how much I needed the excitement of being new at something.

There is a particular kind of energy that comes from not already knowing everything.

I have to think. I have to practice. I have to ask questions. I have to remember sequences, spring settings, transitions, and all the small details that experienced instructors make look effortless.

Sometimes my brain knows exactly what I want to say, but my body is still figuring out what to adjust.

Sometimes I understand the exercise perfectly until it is my turn to teach it out loud.

Sometimes I leave training thinking about one cue, one transition, or one small correction that I want to try again.

And I love it.

I love having something new to get better at.

I love the challenge of taking what I already know about bodies, movement, energy, and teaching and applying it in a different environment.

I also love what this style of teaching is reminding me about my own body.

Going all in has served me well. It is part of my personality, part of my teaching style, and part of the experience people expect when they take a class with me.

But going all in physically, class after class, also creates wear and tear. And I want to keep doing this for another 20+ years.

There is a difference between enjoying movement and asking your body to perform every workout you are responsible for teaching.

When I am beside the reformer, I am still bringing energy. I am still present. I am still fully engaged in what is happening in the room.

I am just not proving that engagement by completing every repetition.

That is a meaningful shift for me.

I can coach with enthusiasm without exhausting myself.

I can create energy without physically producing all of it.

I can be fully inside the experience while standing outside the workout.

And perhaps that is part of what makes this feel so refreshing.

I am not stepping away from the classes where I move, sweat, laugh, and work alongside everyone else. I enjoy those classes far too much. It’s why people come to my classes, for that “we’re in this together” vibe.

But I am making room for another version of myself as an instructor.

The version who watches more closely.

The version who has time to see the room.

The version who can give all of her attention to helping someone else move well.

The version who remembers that coaching is not less active simply because the coach is not completing every rep.

Sometimes the energy is in the movement.

Sometimes it is in the observation, the correction, the encouragement, and the moment someone realizes they can do something they could not do before.

I did not realize how much I missed that. I am very glad to have found it again.

And it has me wondering how many of us have something like this waiting for us.

Not necessarily an entirely new career, business, or identity. Maybe it is a different way of doing something we already know and love. A role we have not occupied in a while. A skill we have allowed to sit unused. Or a new challenge that brings excitement back to work that had begun to feel overly familiar.

Sometimes we do not need to walk away from what we have built. We may simply need a new position inside it.

So I will leave you with two questions I have been considering for myself:

What part of your work or life once made you feel especially energized, capable, or fully yourself?

What could you try, revisit, or approach differently that might help you feel some of that again?

You do not have to turn the answer into a major plan.

Sometimes it is enough to notice what you have been missing.

Tonia M. Fisher is an attorney, educator, business strategist, fitness instructor, and endlessly curious builder and learner. She writes about business, ownership, creativity, AI, movement, learning new things, and the life surrounding the work. Through her workshops and educational resources, she helps business owners and creators build with others, own what they create, and structure what comes next.

Explore upcoming workshops and resources at toniafisher.com.