While visually checking your own form can be incredibly helpful, there is a strange kind of fixation — even a form of dysmorphia — that can come along with watching yourself exercise. It’s not something I experience often: I usually work out alone, in my basement; when I’m at the gym, the mirrors don’t weird me out too much.
But in filming the first installment of my new series Workout of the Week (ICYMI, it’s a weekly, customizable, 25-minute workout for paid subscribers to How to Move!), oh boy did I go there.
It’s not just the general weirdness of hearing my recorded voice and seeing my face and body in motion — the way I presumably actually look and sound in real life (and that way being, of course, at least a little different from the way I like to imagine myself). I think the main ick comes from realizing that the way I look doing certain exercises is at odds with the expectation that, as a trainer, I’m supposed to be really, really good at exercise.
A few thoughts that went through my mind on reviewing my first couple of videos:
Ugh, my lunges are so wobbly. Why can’t I fix my balance?
Shit, are my push-ups really that shallow? Even on my knees?
Yikes, I really need to deal with my neck. (I actually stand by this one. I had a terrible crick in my neck for the past two weeks and the stiffness was highly visible in movements like rolldowns+walkouts and cat-cow. It’s getting much better now!)
Friends, I really had to sit with these thoughts for a minute. Frankly, they almost led me to delay the launch of this series by a week so I could reshoot and try again with “better” form. I opted to press forward anyway, but not without some major doubts and anxieties about how the internet might perceive me and my competence as a trainer.
The thing is (she tells herself emphatically), I do know a lot about exercise. I’ve been a personal trainer for almost a decade! I have a lot of movement experience and have worked with some incredible coaches over the years. I’m generally pretty competent with this stuff.
BUT: I am not preternaturally gifted at movement.
And like… I think that’s kind of the point here! My mission for How to Move is to provide body-neutral guidance on exercise. And deeply embedded in that is the idea that… you don’t have to be “good” at exercise.
Being a stellar exerciser, with perfect squat technique, is not the goal. Finding a way to move — consistently, sustainably, in a way that helps you feel better in your body — is!
(There is probably a whole essay about how toxic and problematic it is that “Your body is your calling card” is still a prevalent message in the fitness community, but I digress.)
So. I posted the video anyway. I worried a little about mean comments, but then remembered that Substack has largely been a very warm and welcoming space for me, and if someone actually wants to pay me $50/year for the privilege of writing a mean comment on a paid-only post? I guess I’ll just take the money and run.
And I’m sure you can already guess: No mean comments were made. I welcomed a handful of new paid subscribers. Hello, everyone! I noodled on this self-criticism and tried to find some grace and compassion for myself. It was, in the end, a pretty good thing all around.
In any case, all of this also got me thinking about the potential risks and potential benefits of watching yourself exercise. There is actual research out there about working out in front of a mirror, but like so many things, the results are nuanced and seem highly dependent on your personality and existing self-image. This Slate article provides a nice roundup (and lands generally on the anti-mirror side).
Video aside, I feel fairly neutral about observing myself in motion. Sometimes I look a little more badass than I expected, or hit a deeper squat than I thought I’d be able to, or something, and it hypes me up. Sometimes I’m having a not-great body image day and staying in my mirrorless basement, or exercising in a mirrorless area of the gym, is the best move. (We won’t mention the time I took a Zumba class with the very fit and cool and coordinated staff of the health magazine I worked at and nearly died of shame. I felt like a giant dancing pencil. I never Zumba’d again.)
I asked around about how folks feel about this and got a few interesting replies I thought I’d share.
“I hate watching myself lift in a mirror, but I usually will at first to make sure my form is good. I film myself regularly playing tennis so I can critique my strokes and footwork. I usually cringe a little watching it back because there’s a disconnect between how these movements feel vs how they look.” —
“I usually lift in front of a mirror, which I generally like, because I get visual feedback on my form. Also- I like seeing my muscles flex in the mirror. It makes me feel powerful.
“But I also like lifting sans mirrors. None of the CrossFit gyms I’ve ever been to had mirrors, which I believe is by design. It really helped me stay focused on how I felt rather than how I looked, which I REALLY appreciated. Plus I felt confident that the coaches would spot any form issues. Now, working out on my own, I’m the only one watching my form.” —
“The horror. My yoga class spot is front row left, which is furthest from the mirror. I don’t want the distraction of someone in front of me, or the distraction of critiquing my own body in the mirror.” —
“Like others here, I lift in front of a mirror to check my form. During pre-COVID yoga I appreciated the myriad of mirrors for form check in all directions (even from the rear 🤪), and a mirror was super helpful to learn Zumba choreography faster!
“When I don’t utilize a mirror I feel very unbalanced and wobbly. Makes me concerned I may accidentally injure myself.” —
“-Mirror use just depends on what the gym/studio has. When I’ve done CrossFit-style gyms, they have no mirrors and I tend to film myself for form with anything new/make sure I’m doing it right. If the regular big-box gym has mirrors I find it helpful to see what I’m doing but don’t necessarily need it
-Would rather die than be caught photographing myself in the gym in a thirst-trappy way (but have done it secretly in the locker room hehe), but good for you if you have the confidence, just don’t get in anyone’s way
-If I’m in a blah body image place the mirrors make it worse; if I’m feeling good I am batting my lashes and making heart eyes at myself in the mirror (neither is very productive/good for the workout)” —
“I do take little photos, but only after exercising, usually to record progress, mark milestones, and celebrate small achievements. I am a very visual memory person, so I like to have the ability to remember these things at a glance.
“For a couple of years, I used to take a photo of my Garmin watch after every run and send it to a friend. Mostly it was about accountability, and I felt safe showing it to her. She would comment on pace or just congratulate me on completing the run. It felt good and comforting and safe to feel like I wasn’t in it alone.” —
As with so many things, there’s no real right or wrong here, as long as you aren’t making yourself feel terrible with your use of mirrors or cameras. If you are, this might be a nice time to reexamine that relationship and consider making some changes.
I’d love to hear from you about this, or anything else that’s on your mind exercise-wise! Leave a comment and let me know.
Let’s keep going.
xo
Anna
About me and How to Move:
How to Move is an anti-diet newsletter about exercise. Each Sunday paid subscribers receive Workout of the Week, a customizable workout (in both video and written/gif format) that you can make 15, 20, or 25 minutes. Other posts are free to all subscribers.
I am an award-winning journalist, former magazine editor, and certified personal trainer and Pilates instructor. I train clients, write articles for publications like The New York Times, and work as a content strategist for clients such as Hinge Health.
If you’d like to support my work, please consider a paid subscription to How to Move, and/or sharing this post with a friend.
If you’d like to work with me as a trainer, journalist, or content strategist, you can find more information here.
Oh gosh, I love to exercise, but I hate looking at my body period. Even when mirrors are available I avoid looking in them. I used to have have some undiagnosed body dysmorphia , so I’m sure it’s related to that. The sports I did growing up didn’t involve mirrors (figure skating, speed skating, tennis, softball), so I also never got used to it.