No, I haven’t gone completely mad, there is a genuine link between my recent experience with off-road driving and what it’s like to go to the gym. But I do probably also owe you a bit of context…
Where we’re going…
I was invited to spend a day off-road driving, and initially I gave the idea a thumbs down. Largely because I felt that I had better things to do with a Sunday than wander around a field getting cold and wet without there being any horses involved. But it’s horses that encouraged me to change my mind – the school of thought that I train with when there’s a horse in my life is a natural horsemanship one, and one of the maxims we like to live by is, “put the relationship first”. So I duly put my relationship first and agreed to spend a day bumping around a field on the condition that we wouldn’t be there the entire day, and that I’d also be provided with lunch.
…We don’t need roads…
He drove us to the off-road venue, stopping on the way so that I could choose picnic supplies (I kept quiet that I’d already prepared myself by packing a tin of booze from home in my cool bag, thinking I could be the May to his Clarkson a la the North Pole expedition). We chatted en route about what we might find and how the day might go. He’s very trusting – neither of us has yet driven the other’s car on road, as we haven’t yet elevated each other to on the insurance status, but it’s coming – and without hesitation he said that I was welcome to have a go behind the wheel once we arrived.
I said I’d think about it.
Switching modes
We entered the venue, filled in the required paperwork, and drove down a pretty steep and winding track to get to the main park. And he freaked out a bit. Which made me freak out a bit. There had clearly been a bit of a miscommunication, as I’d been under the impression that he had a bit of experience in this department. He didn’t (not really). So I spent some time plundering the depths of my memory for some information obtained a long time ago…
You see, my first ever job in the events industry was for a company which mostly did ride-and-drive days to teach people the basics of handling a car they’d bought. The days involved track and off-road sections, and I’d driven on a couple as a guest so that I knew what I was talking about. But these experiences are far more clinical and organised, whereas on this occasion we were totally free to roam.
She persisted
We parked up, got the literal lay of the land, and observed what was going on around us. I took a photo of the park map. “Oh, that’s a good idea,” he said, at which point I tried not to roll my eyes.
“If it’s alright with you,” I piped up, “I’ll drive around the car park a bit.” Reader, this is not an ordinary car park. If you’ve ever been to wintry mountains, it was more like a nursery slope, but without older people shouting at toddlers in an array of languages. There are no marked bays, but there are ditches, patches of water, slopes and other small obstacles to try.
“I haven’t driven this on the road yet, so let me try it where it’s flat at the very least,” I justified myself. “It’s a while since I’ve driven anything this big, in fact.” Can you tell how much I was missing my beloved Serena the SEAT Leon FR?
I climbed into the driving seat, took a deep breath, and turned on the ignition. I proceeded to bunny hop around the open area like a learner figuring out clutch control, and cringed. “I feel like everyone’s staring at me,” I moaned. We’d been among the first to arrive and, although there was a steady stream of vehicles entering the park via the same direction we’d come from, most people were ambling around chatting and getting drinks rather than kicking up dirt with their tyres.
“It’s fine,” he reassured. “You do you.”
And that’s when I realised
I did eventually settle and find some confidence. I was very aware that we were in his car, and that damaging it would create inconvenience as well as expense. But then something clicked.
“Shit,” I said, “I feel how I used to feel at the gym.” I realised I’d been having the same thoughts and fears as I had as a gym newbie: everyone must be staring at me, wondering what on earth I’m doing and why, laughing at my incompetence.
And that’s also when I knew that they weren’t.
Because it’s a total fallacy at the gym. It’s easy to say and hard to believe, but I promise you that everyone is paying more attention to their own looks and which machine or space they want next, and not giving a single fuck about you.
It ended suddenly
The inevitable happened, and the less said about it, the better: the car sustained some damage whilst he was driving, and the spell of what had actually turned into a really nice experience was broken. I came away with an important reminder: the visceral feeling of what it’s like to think that everyone is staring at you, and the conviction that you look like a twat.
Want to feel more confident at the gym than a learner driver does in first gear? Get in touch – let’s talk