Instead, in lifting weights, I’m building a physically strong body, losing fat, gaining muscle and minimising the risk of osteoporosis, heart disease and stress.īut perhaps as importantly, I’ve discovered it’s so much more than exercise – it’s a pathway to feeling strong. I hit forty and chose not to slide in to a sedentary middle-aged lifestyle with all the health issues that lack of exercise, drinking too much, stress and bad diet bring. So, what’s the message? Well, I guess it’s about choices and goals. Had a bad day? An hour flexing those muscles certainly clears the mind. I can do it, I am strong, I won’t be beaten! And that has transferred in to day-to-day life: I’m more confident, determined, positive, happier. The sense of achievement when that last set is complete is immense. Lifting weights is ‘zone out’ time – focussing on mind and body, taking both to the limit, pushing myself mentally when my muscles are screaming to stop but my brain says ‘come on, five more’.
I’m quite the Geoff Capes (without the beard, obvs).īut I haven’t just found physical strength. I can lug that shopping from the car, no sweat. I can hold a wall squat, with dumbells, for an age (at least it feels like it!). I’m now physically strong – I can lift weights I never dreamed of when I started. I mean really strong, in every sense of the word. Bingo wings? Pah – replaced by ‘guns’ (slight artistic licence there, but the picture is my arm…)īut aside from the aesthetic benefits, I became stronger. It was completely changing my body shape, for the better. Slowly, slowly my arms, shoulders and back got some definition, my abs and stomach toned up, I lost inches from my hips. I bought a weights machine for home and ramped up training to three times a week. Joe pushed me further each session, using both free-weights and cable machines as well as old-school squats and lunges. We probably wouldn’t in ‘ordinary’ life cross paths, but crikey, what a tonic it was to exercise, chat about our week and have banter with him and the other gym users. To start with, I met Joe once a week to weight-train for an hour. It exposed me to a whole new world of competitive weight-lifters, boxers, men and women who are, without exception, warm, welcoming and ultra-dedicated to their goals. And so someone recommended meeting up with Joe to lift weights, which is why I found myself in that unfamiliar boxing/weights gym. I ran regularly but, whilst that burnt the calories, it didn’t do much for my tone I was slim, but not lean and certainly not strong. It’s a cliché but bingo wings were making an appearance and my stomach/abs didn’t just ‘snap back’ after two pregnancies (like, seriously, whose do? All these ‘celebs’ with their teeny-weeny waists twenty minutes after giving birth – yeah, right).
You know, that proper ‘I’ve got this’ kind of strong – capable of swinging the kids round the garden or lugging the supermarket shop home. You see, I’d noticed that, since my mid-thirties, whilst not overweight or unhealthy, I just didn’t feel strong. I couldn’t have known that taking those few steps would change my life. But, with my vow to ‘do new stuff’ ringing in my ears, I ventured further in and found Joe, the PT that I had nervously agreed to meet. I nearly turned heel and left, it was all so alien and a long way from the sanitised national gym chain that I had last used a decade ago. I looked around – guys lifting weights, muscles flexing, grunting and exhaling as they pushed their bodies to finish that last, seemingly excruciating set. The smell hit me like a wall – masculine, testosterone-filled sweat in an unairconditioned gym.
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