Why do Some Women find Movement Harder than Others?

The more women I coach, and the more research I read, the more I find myself asking the same question:

Why does learning to move feel so much harder for some women than others?

One thing I've noticed over the last few months of coaching women to build strength is that women often assume they're the problem.

They'll apologise because they can't quite get an exercise. They'll tell me they're uncoordinated, or they'll laugh and say, "I'm just useless at this."

The interesting thing is that they're often not struggling because they aren't physically strong enough.

They're struggling because they genuinely can't feel what I'm asking them to do.

One woman can't quite work out how to hinge from her hips. Another can't feel her hamstrings working. Someone else looks at me after every repetition and asks, "Was that right?", even though she's doing a really good job.

For a while, I thought this was all about confidence. If they practised enough, they'd become more confident and everything else would fall into place.

But the more women I coach, and the more research I read, the more I think there might be something else going on.

Learning to understand your body

Recently I've been reading about something called proprioception. It's a bit of a mouthful, but all it really means is your body's awareness of where it is in space.

It's what allows you to reach for a cup without looking at your hand or walk downstairs without watching every step. Most of us don't think about it because it happens automatically.

Except it doesn't happen in quite the same way for everyone.

Research has shown that people with hypermobility often have reduced proprioception, meaning they may find it harder to judge where their joints are or how they're moving. There's also emerging evidence suggesting an overlap between hypermobility, neurodiversity, sensory processing differences and conditions such as POTS. The research is still developing, so we're a long way from having all the answers, but it raises some interesting questions.

What if some women aren't simply just lacking confidence?

What if they're working much harder than we realise just to understand what their body is doing?

Looking confident and feeling confident aren't always the same thing

Imagine two women arriving at their first strength training session with me.

Both tell me they're nervous.

One has simply never lifted weights before.

The other may have spent years living with pain, unstable joints or feeling disconnected from her body. She may have been told she's clumsy or that she's "just not sporty". She may have avoided exercise because it never felt natural, or because she never quite trusted what her body was telling her.

Those experiences matter and its something I look into right at the start of our journey together.

Because it forms how someone approaches movement long before they pick up their first dumbbell.

Why I spend so much time teaching

People often tell me that I explain everything (and I probably do)!

I like women to understand why we're doing an exercise, what we're trying to achieve and what it should feel like.

But over time I've realised something else.

Sometimes women don't necessarily need more information, they are just looking for better feedback.

We slow things down. We repeat the movement. I'll try a different cue or ask what they can feel instead of telling them what they should feel. Sometimes we'll spend ten minutes on one exercise, not because they can’t do it, but because once something clicks it often stays with them.

I'm not just teaching someone how to squat.

I'm helping them learn to recognise what their own body is telling them.

Maybe confidence isn't where the story starts?

The more I think about it, the more I wonder whether confidence isn't actually the first thing to change.

Maybe confidence is simply what we notice.

Before that, something else has already happened.

A woman starts to recognise what a good squat feels like. She notices she's no longer looking at me after every repetition. She picks up a heavier dumbbell without asking if it's too much. She corrects her own technique before I say anything.

She begins to trust herself.

And perhaps that's where confidence really comes from.

Not because someone told her to "be more confident", but because her body is starting to work with her.

I'm still learning too….

One of the things I enjoy most about combining coaching with studying for my Master's is that the two constantly inform each other.

The women I coach make me ask better research questions, and the research helps me become a better coach.

In all honesty, this isn't just academics for me.

As I've read more about proprioception, hypermobility and body awareness, I've found myself reflecting on my own experience too. I've never thought of myself as naturally sporty, and there have been plenty of times when I've questioned whether I was doing something correctly or wondered why a movement seemed to come more naturally to someone else.

Even now, I notice that the more consistent I am with my own training, the more connected I feel to my body. I don't spend nearly as much time doubting myself because the movements have become familiar. I know what they should feel like.

Maybe that's one of the reasons I enjoy coaching so much.

Yes, I love seeing women become physically stronger. I love watching someone pick up a heavier weight than they ever imagined they could or realise that everyday jobs suddenly feel easier.

But those aren't the moments that stay with me.

The moments I remember are much are less obvious than that.

It's when a woman stops looking at me after every repetition to ask if she's done it right.

It's when she instinctively reaches for the heavier dumbbell without asking my permission.

It's when she says, almost as an afterthought, "I never thought I could do that."

That's the point where something has changed.

She's not just stronger, she is finally trusting herself.

Perhaps that's one of the greatest benefits of strength training, and one we don't talk about enough. Yes, we build muscle, we improve bone health and we become physically stronger.

But maybe, for some of us, we rebuild something else at the same time.

A relationship with the body we've spent years doubting.

One that feels more stronger. More resilient and more trustworthy.

I don't know yet whether the research will ever be done to support that idea.

But as a coach, and as someone on that journey herself, I think it's a question worth exploring.