What 18 Years of Teaching Pilates Has Taught Me.

When I first trained as a Pilates teacher in 2008, I don't think I could have imagined that 18 years later I'd still be teaching, still learning and, perhaps most importantly, still discovering new things about the body and movement.

Over those years I've taught so many different people. Different ages, different bodies, different abilities. People recovering from injury, people wanting to become stronger, people who want to move without pain and people who simply want an hour in their week where they can reconnect with themselves.

And I think that's one of the greatest things experience has taught me.

There isn't one body that Pilates is designed for.

The method needs to meet the person, rather than trying to make the person fit the method.

When you're newly qualified, it's very easy to become focused on getting everything "right". The right position. The right movement. The right number of repetitions.

Eighteen years of teaching real people has taught me to look beyond that.

Sometimes the best thing I can do as a teacher is change the exercise. Sometimes it's reducing the range of movement. Sometimes it's adding support. Sometimes it's progressing someone far beyond what we started with.

And sometimes it's simply recognising that the body someone has brought into the room today isn't quite the same body they brought in last week.

Bigger isn't always better

We live in a world where we're often encouraged to do more.

Lift heavier. Stretch further. Work harder. Make the movement bigger.

Pilates has taught me that more isn't necessarily better.

A smaller movement performed with awareness and control can completely change what someone feels.

The more experienced I've become as a teacher, the more interested I've become in the quality of movement rather than how impressive that movement looks.

Because Pilates isn't a performance.

The basics never really become basic

Some of the movements I teach today are movements I was teaching 18 years ago.

And yet I don't teach them in exactly the same way.

Not because the exercises have changed, but because my understanding of them has.

There are movements we might call "basic", but I don't really think of them that way anymore.

You can return to something seemingly simple hundreds of times and notice something different. Your breath. Your alignment. Where you're holding tension. Where you're compensating. Where you're stronger than you were before.

Sometimes going back to the foundations teaches us far more than constantly searching for the next progression.

Breath isn't an added extra

The longer I've taught Pilates, the more important breath has become within my teaching.

Not simply when to inhale and when to exhale, but how breath affects the whole experience of movement.

Breath can help us organise movement. It can help create connection through the centre of the body. It can change tension and encourage us to actually feel what we're doing rather than simply going through the motions.

And this is something my wider work with yoga, breathwork and meditation has only made me more curious about.

The body and breath aren't two separate things.

When we change one, we influence the other.

The equipment is a tool. It isn't the method.

Reformer Pilates has grown enormously since I first started teaching.

And I love teaching on the Reformer, as well as the Wunda Chair and other Pilates apparatus.

But something I've become increasingly passionate about is helping people understand that the equipment itself isn't what makes something Pilates.

A Reformer is a brilliant piece of equipment, but simply performing exercises on one doesn't automatically make what we're doing Pilates.

It's the principles behind the movement. The understanding of the body. The control, precision, breath and intention. And importantly, the knowledge of the person teaching you.

The springs aren't simply there to make everything harder either. Sometimes they challenge us. Sometimes they support us. Learning how and why to use that resistance is part of the method.

After 18 years, I'm far less interested in how hard I can make an exercise and much more interested in why we're doing it in the first place.

People often come for one reason and stay for another

People start Pilates for all sorts of reasons.

They want a stronger core. They want to become more flexible. Their back hurts. Their physio has recommended it. They want to tone up or feel fitter.

And those are all perfectly valid reasons to begin.

But I've watched something interesting happen again and again over the years.

People begin to notice how they feel.

They notice they're standing differently. Moving more confidently. Breathing more freely. They're more aware of their body. They recognise tension sooner. Everyday movements start to feel easier.

The focus gradually shifts from what the body looks like to what the body can do and how it feels to live in it.

For me, that's where Pilates becomes so much more than exercise.

Experience has made me more adaptable, not more rigid

Perhaps I imagined that after teaching for this long I'd have all the answers.

I don't.

What I do have is a lot more confidence in knowing that there isn't always one answer.

I've learned when to adapt.

When to progress.

When to pull something back.

When to challenge someone.

And when to recognise that what someone needs from their practice today might be completely different from what I had planned.

Teaching isn't just knowing exercises.

It's learning to observe. To listen. To understand the person in front of you.

And I'm still learning

After 18 years, you might think I'd feel as though I know Pilates inside out.

In some ways, I do.

But one of the biggest things 18 years of teaching has taught me is just how much there still is to learn.

Bodies change. People are different. Our understanding of movement evolves.

And I have evolved too.

The teacher I am today isn't the teacher I was when I first qualified in 2008.

I'm less interested in making a body fit an exercise and far more interested in understanding the body that's in front of me.

Perhaps that's what experience really gives you.

Not all the answers, but the confidence to stay curious.