Anxiety, Avoidance, and the Gym Door

For months, I told myself I wasn’t avoiding the gym.
 I was “preparing.”

Because preparation feels productive. Avoidance feels lazy.

In this episode of Brain vs. Me, I talk about why walking into the gym was harder than the workout itself — and how anxiety turns simple actions into psychological obstacle courses.

This isn’t a fitness episode. It’s a story about uncertainty, visibility, overthinking, and the fear of being new in public. About how our brains demand confidence before action, even though confidence only comes after repetition.

I break down what actually helped: shrinking the mission, normalizing awkwardness, stopping the meaning-making spiral, and letting “normal” be good enough.

If you’ve been emotionally preparing for something way longer than necessary, this episode is for you.

You’re listening to the Brain vs Me podcast - A show about the moments your brain gets ahead of you — usually before you’re ready.
Here’s your host, Joshua Ericson.

Thanks for listening to The Brain vs Me Podcast. If you enjoyed this and want to keep up, follow or subscribe to the show. 
You can leave a comment, ask a question, or share the episode wherever you’re listening.
If you’d like to support the show, or explore Joshua Ericson’s books and writing, visit brain versus me.com.

Transcript

Joshua Ericson 0:11

For months, I didn't say I was avoiding the gym. I said I was preparing. Because apparently my brain thought the gym required emotional training first. Welcome back to Brain vs. Me, the only podcast where overthinking counts as cardio. I'm your host, Joshua Erickson. Today we're going to be talking about something that sounds super simple on paper, but felt way more complicated in my head. Going to the gym. Not working out, not lifting weights, not even sweating, just walking in. Because for me, the gym wasn't just a building with equipment, it was a psychological obstacle course. And I spent months convincing myself I was about to start. I said I was preparing for the gym because preparation sounds productive. Avoidance sounds lazy. So obviously I picked the word that made me feel better about myself. I watched videos, I saved beginner routines, I read articles about proper form, like I was studying for an exam I never planned to take. My YouTube algorithm thought I was becoming a fitness influencer. In reality I was just emotionally stalling. Because preparation feels like progress without requiring exposure. Every day my brain ran the same script. Not today. Tomorrow Tomorrow was perfect. Tomorrow had energy. Tomorrow had confidence. Today had questions. What if I don't know how to use the machines? What if I stayed in the wrong place? What if I look like I don't belong? What if I break some invisible gym rule and everyone silently agrees I shouldn't be there? And they hate me. And yes, what if I fart while I'm pushing? That's not a fitness concern, that's a reputation concern. So instead of going, I planned. Planning felt safe. Planning felt controlled. Planning didn't require me to be seen. The gym wasn't intimidating because of the workouts, it was intimidating because it required visibility. I wasn't afraid of effort, I was afraid of being new in public. When I finally walked in, I didn't feel motivated, I felt alert. Posture stiff, eyes scanning, hands confused. Every machine looked complicated. Every person looked confident. Every mirror felt unnecessary. I didn't know where to stand. I didn't know what to touch. I didn't know if I was breaking some unspoken rule just by existing near the weights. So I did what every socially anxious adult does. I pretended. I nodded at nothing, I moved with purpose. I stared at machines like we were in a long term relationship. Inside, my brain was running worst case scenarios like it was getting paid overtime. And here's the weird part. I wasn't afraid of the workout. I was afraid of not belonging. My brain wasn't asking can I lift this? It was asking do I fit here? Then something unexpected happened. Nothing. Nobody watched me. Nobody corrected me, nobody reacted. Everyone was checking their phone, watching themselves in the mirror, trying to survive their own workout, avoiding eye contact. The gym wasn't a stage, it was a room full of private battles. Everyone was too busy dealing with their own stuff to monitor mine, and that realization was freeing. Because once I stopped feeling evaluated, my body relaxed. Not confident, just less tense. I tried machines, I figured out settings, I accepted that learning looks awkward. And honestly, everyone looked awkward. Effort is great is never graceful. There's no elegant way to struggle. The gym stopped feeling like a performance. It became a room with equipment, with people, with no expectations, just repetition. But why do our brains do this and why do new situations feel way heavier than they are? Here's what surprised me the most about the gym experience. The weights weren't the hard part. The machines weren't the hard part. Even the workout itself wasn't the hard part. The hard part was not knowing. Our brains don't hate effort, they hate uncertainty. Uncertainty means no script. No script means no control, and no control makes your brain uncomfortable. So it tries to create control, not by acting, by imagining. When I thought about going to the gym, my brain didn't require me to picture a neutral outcome. It pictured looking lost, using something wrong, standing in the way, being noticed, being judged, and none of that actually happened. But my brain treated those imaginary moments like real threats. That's because anxious thinking doesn't wait for evidence. It fills the gaps with stories. And those stories always sound responsible. Let's prepare more. Let's wait until we feel confident. Let's not rush into this. That feels like maturity, but what it really is is avoidance with better marketing. Confidence doesn't come from thinking, it comes from repetition. But your brain wants the confidence first, so it keeps pushing action further away. That's why anxiety shows up before you start something, not after you're already doing it. Once I was actually inside the gym, my brain calmed down. Not because everything was perfect, but because the unknown became known. Anxiety lives in the gap between imagination and reality. The longer that gap stays open, the louder the commentary gets. And here's another layer people don't talk about. New situations make us feel visible. When you're new, you don't just feel inexperienced, you feel exposed. You don't know the rules yet. You don't know the flow, you don't know the culture. So your brain assumes everyone else does. That creates instant comparison. Everyone looks confident. Everyone looks comfortable. Everyone looks like they belong. You feel like the only beginner, but that's just perspective distortion. Every person in that gym had a first day. They just aren't having it today. Your brain treats new like wrong. It treats learning like failing. But those aren't the same thing. Another sneaky part of anxiety is how it makes situations feel bigger than they are. Walking into the gym isn't a life decision. It's a location change. But your brain frames it like this says something about me. Am I disciplined enough? Do I fit this identity? Do I belong here? Now it's not just a workout, it's a referendum on your personality. It's a lot of pressure for building full of treadmills. Truth is, most of our anxiety comes from assigning meaning where none is required. We turn small actions into big statements. But action doesn't define your identity. It just reflects your current moment. You don't need to be a gym person to go to the gym. You just need to be a person who showed up. Anxiety wants clarity before action. Life gives clarity after action. That mismatch is where all the tension lives. So what do I do to stay grounded? How do I keep my brain from running the show? I don't try to get rid of anxiety. That's not realistic. My goal isn't to silence my brain. It's to keep it from driving. So instead of chasing calm, I focus on containment. First, I shrink the mission. I don't tell myself I'm going to transform my lifestyle. I tell myself I'm going to walk in, exist, and leave. No performance, no expectations, just presence. Small missions are easier to complete. And completing something builds more confidence than planning something. Second, I normalize the awkward. Awkward doesn't mean I'm failing, it just means I'm learning. Every skill feels clumsy at first. Nobody looks smooth while you're figuring it out. We only notice awkwardness in ourselves because we're inside our own head. Other people just see a person trying. Third, I stop treating discomfort like danger. Discomfort isn't a warning sign. It's a growth signal. My brain likes to label unfamiliar feelings as threats. But unfamiliar doesn't mean unsafe. It just means new. Fourth, I stay in my lane. Other people's progress isn't my assignment. Their pace isn't my responsibility. Their confidence isn't my benchmark. My only job is showing up again. Comparison turns growth into pressure. Consistency turns growth into routine. Fifth, I remind myself how little attention people actually pay. Most people are thinking about their own bodies, their own goals, their own insecurities, their own schedules. They're not monitoring me. They're managing themselves. And finally, I let things be normal, not inspiring, not dramatic, just normal. Normal is sustainable. When something feels normal, it stops feeling heavy. The gym didn't become easier because I mastered it, it became easier because I repeated it. And repetition is the real cure for the most anxious thoughts. If there's something you've been preparing for way too long, don't make it a life decision. Make it a small visit. Show up. Be awkward. Leave. Confidence comes later. So if you've been putting something off because you're afraid of looking foolish, you're not lazy, you're human. Nobody starts confident. Nobody starts polished. Everyone starts unsure. And nobody is watching as closely as you think. Thanks for hanging out with me today. If you liked this episode, follow the show. Share it with someone who's been emotionally preparing for something for way too long. And remember, your brain is loud, but it doesn't run the gym.