Today we’d like to introduce you to Shanshan Rothlisberger.
Hi Shanshan, thanks for sharing your story with us. To start, maybe you can tell our readers some of your backstory.
Can you briefly walk us through your story—how you started and how you got to where you are today?
My story has never followed a straight path, but looking back, I can see how beautifully the different chapters of my life have come together.
Movement has always been part of who I am. I grew up with a deep love for dance, music, and artistic expression. One of the most memorable milestones in my dance journey was competing on So You Think You Can Dance, where I earned a ticket to Las Vegas to continue in the competition. It was an incredible experience that challenged me as an artist and deepened my appreciation for the discipline, creativity, and courage that come with pursuing something you love.
My artistic interests have never been limited to dance. I also play the guzheng (古筝), a traditional Chinese string instrument. Music and dance have given me different ways to express myself, appreciate culture, and connect with others.
One of the greatest gifts in my life has been the ability to speak three languages fluently. Being trilingual has allowed me to connect with people from different cultures and walks of life, but it has also taught me that communication goes far beyond words.
In many ways, I see dance and fitness as another language—a universal language. You don’t always need to speak the same language to share a rhythm, exchange a smile, or feel the energy in a room. I’ve experienced beautiful moments of connection with people from around the world simply through movement. Sometimes, without exchanging a single word, we understand one another.
That is something I find incredibly powerful.
Over the years, my journey has taken me through different areas of dance, physical education, personal training, and group fitness. What began as a love for movement gradually became a passion for helping others discover their own strength, confidence, and connection with their bodies.
Along the way, life also brought unexpected challenges that completely changed how I understood health and wellness. Those experiences taught me that true strength isn’t always about how much we can accomplish physically, but also about learning to listen to our bodies, respect their limitations, and give ourselves grace through different seasons of life.
Becoming a wife and mother added another dimension to that understanding. I’ve learned that our bodies are constantly evolving, and the way we care for ourselves must evolve with them.
Today, I’m especially passionate about women’s wellness, mindful movement, and helping women build strength while respecting their bodies through different seasons of life.
I’m also beginning a new chapter by developing my own wellness business, True Path Training, where I hope to bring together everything I’ve learned through movement, education, personal experience, and human connection.
I feel incredibly grateful for where life has brought me. There are opportunities and blessings I never could have planned or earned entirely on my own. My faith reminds me that these gifts are not simply for my own success, but also opportunities to encourage and serve others.
And perhaps that’s what I love most about my journey. It continues to evolve, and I’m still learning, growing, and discovering where God might lead me next.
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
Not at all. Some of the most meaningful lessons in my life came from seasons I would never have chosen for myself.
At 27, I was diagnosed with Graves’ disease, an autoimmune thyroid condition. Eventually, I had to undergo a total thyroidectomy, and what followed was an incredibly difficult period of recovery.
I experienced severe weight loss, physical weakness, hormonal instability, depression and a body that suddenly felt unfamiliar to me. For someone whose life had always revolved around movement and physical ability, losing that sense of control was especially challenging.
It took nearly two years to rebuild my health and find a sense of stability again.
I also faced infertility, which brought its own emotional challenges. There were moments of uncertainty, disappointment, and questions I simply didn’t have answers to.
Those experiences changed me.
Before my illness, I often associated strength with what the body could accomplish. I loved pushing limits, improving performance, and seeing what was physically possible.
But when my body could no longer do the things I had always taken for granted, I had to learn a different kind of strength.
I learned patience. I learned to slow down. I learned that rest is not weakness, and that sometimes the most courageous thing we can do is accept where we are while continuing to move forward.
I also learned that health is much more complex than appearance or performance. There is an important relationship between our physical health, hormones, nervous system, emotional well-being, and the demands of everyday life.
Those lessons didn’t come easily, but they have profoundly shaped how I work with people today.
My faith carried me through much of that uncertainty. I didn’t always understand what God was doing, and I certainly didn’t have all the answers. But I learned that I didn’t have to.
Looking back, I can see how those difficult experiences developed compassion in me that I might not otherwise have had.
I would never wish those struggles on anyone, but I am grateful that something meaningful has grown from them.
As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I’m a fitness professional, movement educator, and lifelong dancer. My work brings together strength training, group fitness, dance, and mindful movement, with a growing focus on women’s health and wellness.
I’m particularly passionate about supporting women navigating thyroid conditions, hormonal changes, postpartum recovery, stress, and major life transitions.
My approach to fitness is both technical and personal.
My background in dance taught me to appreciate the artistry of movement—the rhythm, precision, coordination, expression, and even the smallest details of how our bodies move.
My education and experience in fitness taught me how to develop strength, improve movement quality, and help people progress safely and effectively.
But my personal health journey taught me something that no certification alone could have given me: the importance of listening.
I understand what it feels like to work hard and still feel disconnected from your body. I understand the frustration of wanting to do more when your body is asking for something different.
Because of that, I don’t believe in a one-size-fits-all approach to fitness.
Some days, strength looks like lifting heavier. Other days, it looks like slowing down, breathing, or simply showing up.
I want people to understand that both can be valuable.
I also love the human connection that comes with teaching. Whether I’m leading a high-energy group fitness class, working individually with a client, or sharing movement with people from another country, I believe the experience should be more than just a workout.
Movement can be joyful. It can be expressive. It can build confidence, create friendships, and bring people together who might otherwise never cross paths.
Being able to communicate in three languages has made that connection even more special. But some of my favorite teaching experiences have been with people who don’t speak any of the languages I know. We communicate through demonstration, music, encouragement, and movement itself.
There is something beautiful about realizing that passion doesn’t always need translation.
As I develop True Path Training, my hope is to create an approach to wellness where strength and restoration can coexist. I want women to feel challenged, but also supported, understood, and empowered to care for themselves beyond the gym.
What am I most proud of?
Of course, I’m grateful for the professional opportunities I’ve had, the places I’ve been able to teach, and the people I’ve met along the way.
But what stays with me most are the small, personal moments.
When someone who once felt intimidated walks into class with confidence. When a woman begins to appreciate her body for what it can do instead of constantly criticizing how it looks. When someone tells me that movement has helped them feel like themselves again.
Those moments mean more to me than any title.
I don’t necessarily believe what sets me apart is that I know more than everyone else. There are so many talented and knowledgeable professionals in this industry, and I’m constantly learning from them.
What I can offer is my own combination of experiences, perspectives, and genuine care for the people I work with.
I want people to leave my classes feeling stronger, certainly—but also a little lighter, a little happier, and more confident in who they are.
We’d be interested to hear your thoughts on luck and what role, if any, you feel it’s played for you?
That’s an interesting question, because I’ve often thought about the difference between luck, opportunity, and grace.
From the outside, certain parts of my life might look like good luck. I’ve had opportunities to travel, meet incredible people, experience different cultures, and do work that I genuinely love.
And I don’t take any of that for granted.
There have also been difficult chapters that, at the time, certainly felt like bad luck. My health challenges, infertility, and the uncertainty that came with those experiences were not things I would have chosen.
But over time, I’ve learned that life isn’t always as simple as dividing experiences into good luck and bad luck.
Sometimes the things we think are setbacks change our direction in ways we could never have anticipated. And sometimes the opportunities we receive are far greater than anything we could have planned for ourselves.
I believe hard work matters. Preparation matters. Showing up consistently, treating people well, and being willing to learn all matter.
But I also know that hard work alone doesn’t explain every good thing in my life.
My faith is an important part of how I see that.
I believe God has been incredibly gracious to me. When I look at my family, my health today, the people I’ve met, and the opportunities I’ve been given, I often feel that I’ve received far more than I deserve.
Not because life has been perfect, but because there is so much beauty in it that I could never have created on my own.
I want to remain humble enough to recognize that.
I don’t believe every hardship is something we can neatly explain, and I don’t pretend to understand why certain doors open while others close. But I trust that God can work through both the joyful and the difficult seasons of our lives.
And if the gifts I’ve been given—whether it’s speaking different languages, teaching movement, or connecting with people from around the world—can bring encouragement, joy, or hope to someone else, then I consider that a tremendous blessing.
So I suppose I don’t think of myself as particularly lucky.
I think of myself as deeply grateful.
I’m grateful for the people who have believed in me, for the opportunities I didn’t expect, for the lessons I didn’t know I needed, and for a God who has been gracious through it all.
I still have so much to learn and so much growing to do. My hope is simply to keep showing up with an open heart, work faithfully with what I’ve been given, and allow God to receive the glory for whatever good comes from it.
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