Elizabeth Beckner

I love music and I love to move.

I begin dancing classical ballet at age 5. I trained for 10 years at Willamette Ballet academy (Woodburn, OR) and in my mid-teens discovered group fitness at the gym that my parents held a family membership to. Les Mills was poplar at the time, which I enjoyed, but it was the freestyle formats like Step and Hip-Hop that made my heart soar. While others my age were experimenting with drugs and alcohol, I could be found in the fitness studio 5 days a week for 2 or more hours at a time dancing, lifting weights, and choreographing. I was hooked.

I was determined to teach. As soon as I turned 18, I begin studying for my AFAA group fitness certification. I studied obsessively, spending every free moment outside of my part-time job in my room with books and anatomy charts, determined to to do perfectly. I came up just shy of perfect at a 98/100 on my written exam. While I was disappointed that I missed my perfect score (I was an over-achiever; I couldn't help it), I had my certificate in hand. Unfortunately, what my young self did not know, is that nobody would hire an 18-year-old instructor with no experience, no matter how well you did no your exam. I was crushed.

I had to set my certificate aside in favor of adulthood. In rapid succession, I went to community college, got a full-time job, moved out on my own, and got married. The thought of teaching was still in the back of my mind, but there was no room for it in my young, busy life so, after 4 years, I finally quit renewing my certification.  

Fast-forward about 15 years, give or take a few: Aside from living in a different state, not much had changed. My husband and I were members of the local YMCA, where he graduated the Livestrong program (amazing fitness program for cancer survivors - check it out!), and I participated in group fitness classes. The staff and members were like family to us and it was a great fit all around.

One day after a BodyPump class, one of the Livestrong coaches, who also happened to be the wellness director at the time, approached me and said that my husband had told him that I "used to teach Step." I stammered for a moment because, technically, I had never actually taught but had been certified. He asked if I would be interested in picking it back up; they apparently had received several member requests for a Step class, but were having trouble finding an instructor. I told him I would think about it.

Of course, "think about it" really meant "YES". 

The 18-year-old I had once been suddenly surfaced, excited, hopeful, and giddy with anticipation. 

I studied all over again for my AFAA certification. I was blown away by how much had changed in 15 years, and consequently had to UN-learn more than I had to learn (and when did the price go up??). It was much harder than I remembered, my middle-aged mind not accustomed to learning the way my 18-year-old mind had been. Plus, studying around my full-time job was a challenge I was not quite sure how to manage.

But manage I did. I took my exam, passed (they no longer told you what your score was, only whether or not you passed, which, I realized with some surprise, that I was content to not know) and arrived at the YMCA the next week flashing my certificate.

I begin teaching Step one day per week, which was what had drawn me in so long before. Within a short time, the director approached me about a new format called Pound that the fitness industry was buzzing about. I tried one class and immediately signed up for training, adding that to my list of favorite things, and another class to my weekly schedule. Zumba would follow a year later, then Schwinn Cycle, Strong Nation, Circl Mobility, and U-Jam.  

I now teach for the YMCA twice per week, one Step and one Zumba, and one day per week for The Mac, Zumba. I periodically sub for other instructors in both formats, as well as Strong Nation and an occasional stretch and mobility class. 

I am privileged to have had the opportunity to teach afforded me, and I do not take it for granted. I understand the incredible responsibility that is on me to keep participants safe, while still challenging them to go farther than they thought they could. This requires not only certifications, but a lot of patience, understanding, care, and compassion. Watching someone step into a class, unsure of what they can do and afraid to even enter the room, take those first steps, then a few more, and start to relax into it is both amazing and humbling. Seeing them come back to try again is even more so, and my heart soars when they come back with confidence and move with a sense of both purpose and freedom. 

While teaching is not what I do for a living, it is what I live to do.