Taking Up Space - What Going to the Gym Has Taught Me

When I first started going to the gym, I thought the biggest challenge would be the equipment. The weights. The logistics. The physical side of things.

What I didn’t expect was that the real work would be learning how to take up space.

Not just physically, though that part matters, but emotionally, socially, and confidently as a powered wheelchair user in a world that often tries to make disabled people smaller, quieter, and less visible.

This gym journey has been about so much more than building upper-body strength. It’s been about unlearning the idea that I have to apologise for being here.

Being Seen (Whether You Want to or Not)

One of the strangest things about being a wheelchair user in a gym is that you are instantly noticeable. There’s no blending into the background. No anonymity. No slipping quietly into a corner to do your workout.

At first, that visibility made me want to shrink. I was hyper-aware of where I parked my chair, how long I took to adjust equipment, how much space I used. I worried about being “in the way”. Thankfully I’m now realising I’m just doing as other gym goers do.

I realised that being visible isn’t the same as being intrusive and taking up space isn’t the same as taking something away from someone else.

I’m here to train. I’m here to get stronger. I’m here because my body deserves care and investment, just like anyone else’s.

From Self-Conscious to Self-Assured (Most of the Time)

I won’t pretend this journey has magically cured all my insecurity. Some days I still feel awkward. Some days I still notice the looks. Some days I wish I could just exist without being a talking point.

But what’s changed is that those feelings don’t stop me anymore:

• I still roll in.

• I still set up my equipment.

• I still do the work.

Each time I do, I prove to myself that discomfort doesn’t get to decide what I’m allowed to do.

The Gym as a Form of Quiet Activism

This might sound dramatic but just by being there, I’m challenging expectations.

I’m challenging the idea that disabled bodies are fragile, that we shouldn’t lift weights, that we don’t belong in fitness spaces or that health looks one way and one way only.

I’m not trying to be inspirational, I’m just trying to live my life. But when a powered wheelchair user confidently trains in a gym, it changes what people think is normal even if they don’t realise it.

That matters.

Strength Isn’t Just Physical

Yes, my arms are stronger, my shoulders are more stable and my endurance is improving but the biggest gains I’ve made are internal.

• I trust my body more.

• I advocate for myself more.

• I take up space with less apology.

• I believe I deserve effort and investment.

That kind of strength doesn’t come from a dumbbell it comes from consistency, courage, and refusing to shrink.

Learning to Rest Without Quitting

2026 hasn’t started as strongly as I’d hoped in the gym. I’ve been ill, and that’s forced me to slow down in a way I didn’t plan for.

At first, that felt frustrating like I was losing momentum just as I was feeling committed and motivated. However, it’s also taught me something important: listening to my body is part of this journey too. Rest isn’t failure, it’s maintenance.

I know how determined I am to keep pushing myself and getting stronger, and I also know I can’t do that if my body isn’t at 100%. Taking care of myself now is how I make sure I can keep showing up later.

Why I’m Sharing This

I’m writing this series not because I have everything figured out but because I know how isolating it can feel to not see yourself represented in fitness spaces.

If you’re a powered wheelchair user, a disabled person, or someone who’s ever felt out of place in a gym, I want you to know this:

• You don’t need to be confident to start.

• You don’t need to be strong to belong.

• You don’t need permission to take up space.

You just need to show up!

What’s Next

In Post #6, I’ll be talking about:

• gym anxiety

• bad days vs good days

• and how I keep going when motivation dips

Because this journey isn’t linear and that’s okay