It’s a new year, and that means scores of folks are flooding the gym in an attempt to get healthy.

It’s a new year, and that means scores of Lululemon clad gym rats will be there to give them the side-eye for being a New Year’s Resolution athlete.

I won’t be one of them. And neither should you.

I suppose I could… as an avid devotee of Biker Barre in Eastern Market, I log in about an hour of ass-kicking workout a day. I walk a mile to and from work every day. I do ballet a few times a week. I run around the Lincoln memorial most Sundays. Shorter version: I work out.

This week I was huffing and puffing (gracefully?) through a Barre class. My muscles were burning, but I was keeping pace. Next to me, a new girl was rocking it out as best as she could. After our set, I looked over and gave her a thumbs up. Just that little but of camaraderie motivated me to push harder, to stand up straighter and to give max effort. After class she stopped me and said, “hey, thanks for the support. I haven’t been to the gym after I hurt my knee.” Something as simple as a word of encouragement can make the difference between a feeling intimidated and overwhelmed or welcomed and challenged.

I know exactly what it’s like to walk in to a gym—a little rusty, a little intimidated, a little less fit than you’d like. I know what it’s like to feel like one of the weakest in a workout class. But, I also know what it’s like to be one of the strongest.

My first class at Biker Barre was ug-ly. It was a Barre class… I figured, “I do ballet, I got this.” Yeah, no.

We started the class with three sets of eight push-ups. Fun fact: I couldn’t do one. ONE. After the push-ups came about two hours of planks. This was when I threw up in my mouth. We hadn’t even done one ballet plié—and I knew I was bested.

And then there was Spin. I can devote an entire blog to how spin has changed my life. And it has.

I was sore for three days after my first class. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment—but I kept with it. It took me four months to get up to where I’m at. I still struggle to do a push-up properly (I look like a flailing seal) but I show up.

So here’s my challenge to my fellow workout addicts. When you see the new folks in their shiny new sneakers and workout clothes—be a force of good. Don’t be the reason they don’t want to show up. Everyone starts at a different place, with different skills. Be the reason they want to push themselves harder.

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