Last week I had a terrible gym session. I started tired and unfocussed, and from the first lift, the weight felt HEAVY. Each missed rep caused bad form and my chin lowered to the floor as I lost confidence.Every casual glance to the mirror saw a reflection that looked unflattering, tired eyes  glaring back at me and I didn’t feel my fit self.

After a couple of exercises I grabbed a monster and thought maybe an energy infusion would pick me up midway through my session, but this was to no avail. My joints were achey and I felt, not unlike,  I was made of concrete. I pushed on through, with sheer grit and determination, but as the plates clunked for the last time I couldn’t help but feel that I had got very little out of this session. I hit the locker room feeling very down and with an extremely low mood.

Seemingly unrelated, I had worn a new pair of shorts to the gym. I had purchased them online, having not previously tried them on and instead just donned them for this session. 

From rep to rep, set to set, I felt the waistband of the shorts curl and twist under my stomach. I would adjust them higher or lower, but the outcome was the same discomfort sitting right across my stomach – my most hated body part. 

I have had an ongoing hatred of my stomach since as long as I can remember. No matter how slim or toned I have been, the one consistency has been the prominent stomach that has made me self-conscious from day to day, but always my focus on my bad days.

I don’t like my stomach to be touched! Or in fact, for it to be on show. I will often be found sat down clutching a “cuddle cushion” over it to avoid anyone being able to observe it. Hidden away then people cannot judge.

As I stepped into the locker room and removed the offending shorts, there was a feeling of relief. It clicked immediately that my attention constantly being drawn to my “Achilles Heel” had impacted the entire session. The moment that this weak elastic waist band crossed my belly, I should have known the distraction that would be caused.

As the locker room was empty, I stepped over to the mirror to see the “damage” – I wanted to rip the band-aid off straight away. And what I saw was not the reflection of a broken man from just minutes ago, it was a revelation! What I saw immediately was an image that looked good. It wasn’t the self-conscious figure who was weighed down by distraction. Brains are funny things aren’t they.

I have learned that sometimes it’s good to talk these things through. So I hit up a mate on IG who really is an excellent listener. A man who is open, honest and supportive. And through this conversation I realised that I wasn’t alone, that a lot of people feel this way, and that a problem shared is a problem halved. 

This won’t be the last time I have a crisis of confidence – our pre-disposition to cast judgement on ourselves will not cease. But men having an awareness of how their mental and physical health are intrinsically linked is a bloody good starting point in lessening the burden. 

When it’s not all belly laughs in your own head, then it’s probably best to get out of that place and instead TALK. This is something we all need to do more of. Besides, laughter is best shared with others. It’s contagious in the best possible way – this shared experience can spread positivity amongst men – which can only be a positive thing.

TIB