When I was in Grade 10, my school decided to put us in gender-segregated fitness classes. 

Twice a week, we took a school bus to the local gym “Fitness Avenue” and spent our time in the “Women’s Only” room.

Disengaged girls with nobody to flirt with stood around looking bored, applying lip gloss between sets of whatever lame movements we were doing that day.

...

I’ve never understood the concept of “Women’s Only” gyms or classes. Never understood how it benefits women. While I’m sympathetic that some women might be intimidated and scared of aggressive men dominating the squat rack, I just can’t wrap my head around the idea that shying away from it is somehow a solution.

When people say, “I’m not competitive,” or “I don’t like to compete,” they are essentially announcing to the world they lack courage.

 Why?

Because competing tells the world, “I care!” Or at the very least, competing tells the world you care enough to put yourself out there. 

And competing at something you’re not good at takes the most courage of all.

For me, long distance running has always required courage. I have been petrified of running more than 200 meters since I was 8 years old.