ANNA MOORE, 50
Learns that you can fight back
Like many middleaged women, I’ve hated what has happened to my body in the past few years. Though I haven’t hit menopause (yet), it must surely be lurking close by and I’ve been dismayed by the weight gain, the bulk that is accumulating around my middle. My favourite clothes don’t quite fit. After decades as a size eight, I’m picking up size 10 T-shirts and putting them back, as they suddenly look so narrow. I know I’m not eating more or moving less – I do a weekly aerobics class, cycle locally and walk the dog daily – so it must be my hormones talking, and that’s depressing. It feels biologically determined, “nature’s way”, beyond my control.
Tony, on the other hand, seems to have slimmed down as we’ve got older. Last year, I even made him see the GP about his weight loss, though it turned out there was nothing wrong with him. His cycling keeps him trim, and on group holidays, where he effortlessly leads the hikes, others always
comment on his cardiovascular health. Meanwhile, I have achy hips and a right knee that’s starting to complain when I walk upstairs, so I assumed he’d fly through, leaving me stuck at first base.
For this reason, I’m glad when we were told that we’d be working out at different times. Couples training together is rarely effective, because our bodies, our strengths, weaknesses and targets are so different.
In reality, the opposite happened: Tony ran into more problems than me, while I loved (almost) every minute.
My first gym session with Dan Drummond, who conducted most of our training sessions, under the guidance of Matt Roberts, established that I have ridiculously tight hip abductors – my hips are weak, so my knees keep pointing inwards. I also have weak glutes – according to Dan, they “don’t fire”. In fact, none of me “fires”; I’m feeble all over. The training programme followed the same rough routine each time, always
‘After a month, the creak in my knee completely vanished and my hips didn’t hurt’
kicking off with five minutes on a cross trainer (a kind of treadmill for skiers) to elevate heart rate, then lying on the mat for foam roller stretches, mobilising and activation drills. Only then came the weightlifting – although that started slow. On the first day, I did nothing much beyond deadlift squats, without lifting much at all. I’d turned up with my water bottle expecting to be panting for breath in minutes, but I didn’t even need a sip.
“We did nothing!” I told Tony when I got home. “A dog walk would be more challenging!” Next morning – my rest day – my hamstrings were beginning to make themselves known. By the end of the day, they were screaming in agony. Wow, I was puny.
By the end of the second week, Dan was raising the pressure, adding more sets of reps and loading more weight. After every set, I did a ton of stretching. It never felt too hard in the moment, but at the end, I’d leave the gym, reach the Tube and find my legs wobbled when I stepped on to the escalator. At home, my arms were so tired, chopping a cabbage required effort.
The workouts got harder still, with Dan adding “the prowler” to the mix – a weird weighted trolley that you have to push along the floor and back. (Then do it again!) The mini cardiovascular circuits at the end of the sessions were the worst aspects for me. Each time, I had to get the dial on the SkiErg (an indoor Nordic skiing machine) up to 200m in two minutes. (Don’t laugh.) I was gutted when Tony later told me that he had to do it in 40 seconds.
The exercise plan comes with a diet, and though I certainly didn’t follow it to the last turkey slice, I tried to stick roughly within its rules. There’s a lot of protein involved and not much carb – beetroot hummus and rice cakes becomes your friend at snack time, which I liked at first, then craved bread and biscuits (and often gave in). It wasn’t helped by the fact that Tony ignored the diet completely and still settled down in the evenings with his red wine and crisps.
After a month, I noticed something wonderful was happening. That creak in my knee had completely vanished. My hips didn’t hurt. I felt weirdly lighter on my feet, more balanced, more stable. Where once my thighs and bum (or my “hams” and “glutes”) were ... err ... wobbly, now they felt toned, more substantial. I had some definition. I was energised in the day and sleeping deeply at night.
While Tony was failing to progress and had gone back to stretching his short, weak muscles (sorry, Tony), I was aceing it. Before we reached the end, I was easily lifting half my body weight (dumbbells and barbells) in four sets of 12 reps. My whole body weight would be a doable future target.
Instead of dreading each session, I found myself dreading the end of the whole thing. I didn’t want to lose what I’d gained.
I’m now looking into gym membership and toying with a massive shopping list (exercise mats, foam rollers, dumbbells... though sadly, we can’t find space for the SkiErg). I’ve emerged fitter, stronger and much more optimistic. At a time when hormones seemed to have their own plan for my body, I’ve learnt that it’s possible to put up a fight and seize back some control – and that feels great.