Rebuilding Trust in your back

Leslie Guerin • January 12, 2026

 My Story, and Why This Work Matters

In May of 2020, I woke up one morning and couldn’t move.

Not the kind of “ugh, my back feels stiff” can’t move.
The kind where your body simply says
no, and you don’t yet understand why.

I tried to roll over in bed and nothing happened. I remember lying there thinking, This is strange. I was a movement teacher. I exercised for a living. I knew bodies. And yet, my body had decided it was done cooperating.

That moment marked the beginning of a long, humbling, frustrating, and ultimately clarifying chapter of my life.

Six Months of Trying to Outsmart My Body

Over the next six months, I did what a lot of capable, driven people do when something goes wrong: I tried to manage it instead of listening to it.

I changed my diet.
I swapped pillows.
I adjusted how I slept.
I was deeply committed to Biofreeze.
I saw a chiropractor.
I saw a massage therapist.

I stood all the time because sitting felt unbearable. And every time I stood up from a chair, it felt like I was being tasered through my hip.

Still, I kept teaching.

This was 2020, so everything had moved to Zoom. I taught my classes. I demonstrated most of the exercises. I told myself that as long as I could keep moving, I was okay. I told myself that stopping would mean losing everything I had built.

The truth?
I was terrified.

Terrified of losing my job.
Terrified of not being able to teach.
Terrified that if I stopped moving, I’d never start again.

So I ignored the signals.

When Ignoring Stops Working

Eventually, I could barely sit at all. Standing was my default. And then one night, the pain crossed a line.

I couldn’t roll over in bed without crying.

That was the moment I knew: this wasn’t something I could muscle through anymore.

I finally scheduled an MRI.

The results showed two herniated discs:

  • One at L5–S1
  • One at L1–L2

The doctors believed the upper herniation was older. All of my symptoms were coming from the lower one.

I went through two cycles of prednisone. And for the first time, I did something that felt completely against my identity:

I stopped.

(Okay—I still walked. I’m a mover after all.)

But I stopped trying to fix myself through effort alone.

What Fear Took From Me—and What It Taught Me

Here’s the part that matters most, and the part I wish I’d understood sooner:

A lot of what prolonged my recovery wasn’t the injury itself.
It was my fear.

Fear of losing my career.
Fear of starting over.
Fear of going back to basics.

I teach the mind–body connection every day. And yet, in my own body, I couldn’t access it. I wasn’t listening. I was negotiating. I was overriding.

My body wasn’t telling me I was broken.

It was telling me:
It’s okay. You just need to start again—differently.

It took over a year before I would take anyone else’s class. I had to relearn how to watch movement before doing it. I had to understand what my body needed to see, feel, and trust again.

Today, I have a very clear sense of what I can do, what I shouldn’t do, and what I need more time with. That clarity didn’t come from pushing harder—it came from paying attention.

The Professional Perspective I Didn’t Trust (But Should Have)

For several years, I worked at a physical therapy office in Portsmouth that specializes in back pain recovery.

At the time, I assumed that because I wasn’t a physical therapist, I didn’t know that much.

That assumption turned out to be wrong.

I learned a great deal there—but I also realized how much I already understood through Pilates, movement education, and lived experience.

Here’s what I know to be true now:

Once someone is cleared to move, thoughtful movement guidance matters deeply.

People don’t just need exercises.
They need reassurance.
They need options.
They need to rebuild trust in their own decision-making.

That’s where I do my best work.

Why I Created Rebuild Trust in Your Back

This is exactly why I created Rebuild Trust in Your Back.

This series is for people who:

  • Have experienced back pain
  • Have been told they’re allowed to move again
  • But feel scared, hesitant, or unsure where to begin

It’s for the people who are afraid to join a group class.
The people who worry they’ll do something wrong.
The people who don’t want to be “fixed,” but don’t want to stay stuck either.

This work isn’t about pushing.
It’s about
listening.
It’s about rebuilding confidence, layer by layer.

I wish I had given myself this kind of space sooner.

An Invitation

If you see yourself in any part of this story, I invite you to join me.

This upcoming session of Rebuild Trust in Your Back is limited to 12 people, intentionally. I want to know who I’m working with. I want to make sure our goals align. And I want to create an environment where you feel supported—not rushed.

If you’re interested, message me soon.
We’ll talk, make sure this is the right fit, and take the next step together.

You’re not broken.
You never were.
Sometimes, you just need permission—and guidance—to begin again.


By Leslie Guerin February 22, 2026
There is a common misunderstanding about Pilates that has grown louder over the years: that it is meant to be gentle, slow, soft and easy. A “nice” workout. But that was never the intention. Pilates was not created to be performative. It was created to be effective. Effectiveness in movement does not come from looking impressive. It comes from precision. Somewhere along the way, the visual of Pilates became louder than the method itself. Long limbs moving with beautiful choreography and endless repetitions. Classes that look like Pilates. But looking like Pilates, being called Pilates and being Pilates are not the same thing. And most people, including many teachers, skip the part that actually makes it work. Pilates Was Never Meant to Be Performative Joseph Pilates did not design a system that rewarded momentum. He designed a system that required attention. Not attention to how something looks, though that is how you can tell if the exercises is executed properly. The attention should ideally be to how something is done. Modern fitness culture thrives on performance. Movement is filmed, shared, and packaged visually. The more dynamic it looks, the more engaging it appears. The more repetitions, the more it seems productive. This is where Barre and Pilates differ. This is where those lines have blurred and I quietly hope Pilates can resists this fad. A well-taught Pilates class may look almost uneventful from the outside. To someone expecting entertainment, it can seem understated. To the nervous system, it is deeply demanding. Because Pilates was never designed to entertain the eye. It was designed to reorganize the body. It is art, but not for arts sake. Precision Requires Attention Precision creates actual change. When movement becomes rushed, the body defaults to habit. Stronger muscles take over. Momentum replaces control. Alignment becomes approximate instead of intentional. Slowing down in Pilates is not about being gentle. It is about being accurate. It allows the brain to register position, and control. It gives the body time to respond instead of react. Precision is not passive. It is neurologically active. Holding a half curl with the neck long, ribs quiet, and breath organized requires far more attention than swinging through ten repetitions with momentum. Performing a leg circle without pelvic movement demands significantly more control than making the circle bigger or faster. The difficulty in Pilates is rarely about load. It is about coordination. Coordination should not be rushed for the sake of getting in more repetitions. Many Classes Look Like Pilates, But Aren’t Being Taught to Bodies This is where the disconnect becomes most visible. Exercises are demonstrated, copied and followed. Social media has taken the see and steal culture to new lengths! This leads to the body in front of the teacher is not being taught properly. Clients are becoming carbon copies of braod movements seen online and just simply being asked to replicate. There is a difference between cueing choreography and teaching movement. When classes focus primarily on what the exercise should look like, participants often compensate without realizing it. The neck grips during abdominal work. The hip flexors dominate leg movements. The lower back absorbs what the abdominals were meant to support. From the outside, everything appears correct. From the inside, the wrong muscles are doing the work. I know this to be true, because I have definitely performed Pilates.. and on an off day... I am sure I will unfortunately do this again. This has allowed me to really see though, that Pilates teaching requires observation. It requires adjusting range of motion, tempo, setup, and intention based on the individual body, not the idealized version of the exercise. Because the goal of Pilates is not uniform movement. It is intelligent movement. Real Pilates Feels Quieter, and More Demanding Neurologically One of the most surprising experiences for clients transitioning from performative classes to precise Pilates is how “quiet” it feels. There is less rushing and far less choreography for the sake of variety. Yet, thes classes often feels more challenging. Not because it is harder in the traditional fitness sense. But because it requires sustained mental engagement. You cannot mentally check out during precise Pilates. You are asked to notice: Where your ribs are How your pelvis is responding Whether your neck is assisting unnecessarily If your breath is supporting or disrupting the movement Which muscles are initiating versus compensating This level of awareness increases the neurological demand significantly. The brain is actively mapping movement rather than passively repeating it. That is why Pilates can feel deceptively demanding even when the exercises appear small or controlled. It is not about exhaustion. It is about organization. Gentle Is Often a Misinterpretation of Control When Pilates is described as gentle, it is usually because it lacks impact, heavy loading, or aggressive pacing. But low impact does not equal low intensity. Holding alignment under control. Moving without compensation and maintaining precision through fatigue. These are not gentle skills. They are refined skills. In fact, when Pilates is taught with true precision, many clients realize they have been overworking the wrong areas for years. Their hip flexors tire quickly. Their neck becomes aware. Their deep abdominals fatigue in ways they never noticed before. Not because the workout is harsher. But because it is finally specific. Specificity feels different than intensity. Why Precision Gets Skipped Skipping precision is rarely intentional. It is often the result of: Large class sizes Fast-paced programming Overemphasis on choreography Teacher insecurity around slowing things down The pressure to make classes feel “worth it” through visible effort Precision requires time. It requires observation. It requires confidence in subtlety. And subtle teaching can feel risky in a culture that equates visible sweat with value. But when precision is skipped, the method gradually becomes diluted. Exercises become shapes instead of tools. Cueing becomes generalized instead of specific. And the neurological depth of Pilates is replaced with surface-level movement. Teaching Pilates to Bodies, Not to Exercises One of the most important shifts a teacher can make is moving from teaching exercises to teaching bodies. An exercise is not the goal. It is the vehicle. Two people performing the same movement may need entirely different cueing, range, and pacing to achieve the intended outcome. Precision means recognizing that and adjusting in real time. It means allowing fewer repetitions with better execution. It means refining setup before adding progression. It means valuing stillness as much as movement. And perhaps most importantly, it means being willing to make the class feel quieter in order to make it more effective. Because when the body is truly learning, it does not need constant spectacle. It needs clarity. The Quiet Demanding Nature of True Pilates Clients who experience precise Pilates often describe it the same way: “It felt small, but I was working so hard.” “I had to concentrate the whole time.” “It was harder than it looked.” This is not accidental. When the nervous system is fully engaged, even controlled movements require significant effort. The demand shifts from gross muscular output to refined neuromuscular coordination. That is the part most people skip. And it is also the part that creates lasting change. Not bigger movements. Better ones. A Method That Rewards Thoughtfulness Pilates does not reward rushing. It does not reward performance. It does not reward spectacle. It rewards attention. It rewards consistency. It rewards intelligent progression. It rewards teachers who are willing to observe rather than simply lead. And in a fitness landscape that increasingly prioritizes how movement looks on camera, this quiet precision becomes even more valuable. Because bodies do not improve through performance. They improve through accurate, repeated, intentional movement. Reclaiming Precision in Modern Pilates Reclaiming precision does not mean making Pilates rigid or overly clinical. It means returning to its original intelligence. It means: Teaching fewer exercises more effectively Slowing down when needed Cueing for sensation, not just shape Observing compensation patterns Prioritizing neurological engagement over visual intensity When this happens, Pilates stops feeling “gentle” in the dismissive sense and starts feeling deeply effective. Subtle. Focused. Demanding in the way that truly organized movement always is. And that is where the real method lives. Not in performance. Not in speed. Not in how impressive it appears. But in the precision that most people overlook. Pilates doesn’t need to be harder.
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