Conquering the Movements That Used to Scare You

Have you ever squatted on one leg and felt like your balance was a bad joke? Like your ankle had its own agenda, your knee wanted to cave in, and your brain just screamed, "Abort mission!" Or maybe you’ve walked up to a pull-up bar and stared at it the way someone might stare down from a rooftop—terrified, tense, unsure whether your body was even meant to be up there. And don’t even get me started on heavy barbells. The first time I saw someone lift a bar three times their bodyweight, my first thought wasn’t, "Wow, I want to do that." It was, "That looks like a fast track to the ER." Sound familiar?

The truth is, every athlete—whether you’re stepping into your first fundamentals class or you’ve been doing this for years—has a list of movements that used to make their stomach drop. And if you’re anything like me, you know those fears don’t just live in your muscles. They live in your head.

When I started coaching, I noticed a pattern. The strongest athletes in the room weren’t just the ones with big lifts or clean gymnastics skills—they were the ones who had learned to stare down the movements that once scared the hell out of them. And I say "learned," because it’s a practice. Nobody wakes up one day excited to fail a pistol squat or to fall out of a muscle-up attempt. But we train ourselves to stop seeing failure as something to avoid—and start seeing it as feedback.

I remember vividly the first time I really committed to trying a ring muscle-up. It wasn’t one of those half-hearted reps—I gave it everything I had. But I still didn’t make it. My swing wasn’t big enough, I wasn’t using my hips at all, and to be honest, I didn’t really understand how the hips were supposed to drive the movement. My legs were loose, my body position was disconnected, and I just wasn’t strong or tight enough yet to make it happen. I flailed more than I flew—and the rings made that brutally clear. But that attempt taught me something important: it wasn’t just about trying harder; it was about learning how to move better. So, I started over. I broke down the movement, drilled positions, and focused on building strength and coordination piece by piece. Over time, what once felt impossible became something I could not only do—but coach with confidence. Because I remember exactly what it feels like to get it wrong, and more importantly, what it takes to get it right. That’s what happens when you stop avoiding the hard stuff.

Think about it like this: Training is like leveling up in a video game. At first, everything feels new, and every "boss" feels impossible. Pistol squats? That’s a boss level. Muscle-ups? Boss. Heavy lifts under fatigue? Boss. But the only way to beat those bosses isn’t by skipping levels—it’s by returning again and again, learning the patterns, failing forward, and building the skills over time. You don’t gain XP by standing still.

As a coach, one of the most common things I hear is, "I’m just not built for that movement." Trust me, I get it. I used to think the same thing. I’m not naturally explosive. I don’t have the textbook gymnast background. But here’s the thing: telling yourself a movement isn’t "for you" becomes a convenient excuse to stay the same. Yes, we all have different anatomies, but movement quality and strength are trainable. And every time you opt out of working on something that intimidates you, you reinforce the belief that you’re not capable. That belief becomes the real obstacle—not your body.

Let me tell you what I tell my athletes: discomfort is where the change happens. Not just physically, but mentally. When you train the movements that make you uncomfortable, you’re not just building capacity—you’re reshaping your self-image. You stop seeing yourself as someone who can’t, and you start becoming someone who can.

I’ve seen this transformation firsthand—not just in myself. I know clients who used to freeze every time box jumps showed up in a workout. You could see the hesitation in their body—the doubt, the fear of missing, the memory of a past fall that left more than just a physical mark. It wasn’t about the height; it was about trust—trust in their own timing, in their legs, in their ability to commit to the jump. But instead of avoiding them forever, we took a different approach. We scaled it way down—used plates, then a soft box, and slowly rebuilt confidence rep by rep. We focused on mechanics, mindset, and consistency—not just performance. And eventually, I watched them string together box jumps in a workout without flinching. No panic. No hesitation. The box didn’t change. They did. Because sometimes, the biggest wins aren’t about getting stronger—they’re about facing the thing you used to avoid and learning to move through it anyway.

This is why we show up. Not just to get sweaty, not just to "train hard," but to rewire the relationship we have with our fears. Every time you approach a movement that once made you hesitate, you're making a powerful decision: growth over comfort. Fear doesn’t vanish in a day—but every rep chips away at its power.

Now don’t get me wrong—there’s a smart way to approach scary movements. This isn’t about ego lifting or going full send on a skill you haven’t built capacity for. It’s about progression. It’s about being willing to start ugly. To look silly. To fail safely and intentionally. To commit to the reps when no one’s watching. And to trust your coach when they tell you that what feels impossible today might just be your warm-up a year from now.

So, here’s my challenge: Make a list of the movements that freak you out a little. The ones you avoid. The ones that make you second-guess yourself. And then pick one. Just one. Start working on it—consistently, humbly, and with curiosity. Track your progress. Ask questions. Let it frustrate you. Let it teach you. And watch how everything else in your training starts to change, too.

Because when you conquer the movement that once scared you, you don’t just unlock a skill. You unlock a new level of belief in what you’re capable of becoming.