Older and STRONGER
I celebrated my 74th birthday with pull-ups!
Some moments stay with you forever. Holding my little boy John for the first time, way back in 1961, was one of them. He was tiny, perfect, and my heart was full of love.
I was only 17, a happy newlywed in Dublin.
But just two months later, my beloved son was cruelly snatched away by cot death.
My heart broke. And a heavy depression set in.
My husband did his best to support me, and in 1962 we moved to London, where he started a new business.
I slowly adjusted to my loss – and in June 1966, gave birth to another beautiful boy Kaz.
Two months later, my husband went away on a business trip to Alaska.
‘I’ll be back in a month,’ he promised with a kiss.
But two weeks into the trip, I got a call from one of his colleagues, telling me he’d died.
In truth, I can’t bear to go into the horrific details. But I remember dropping the phone, too shocked to speak.
At just 22, I was now a widow, with a 2-month-old baby to support.
Overwhelmed by grief, I wanted to give up.
But I knew I had to be
strong for Kaz.
So I bottled up my emotions as I tried to process everything.
A month on, desperate to run from my pain, I applied for a job as a nanny in America.
Incredibly, I got the job, caring for the four children of a widowed doctor in Massachusetts.
So, in December 1966, I packed my bags and took 6-month-old Kaz to America. It was a good job, but I couldn’t shake the black grief that shrouded me.
On days off, I’d leave Kaz with the doctor and his children and go for walks to clear my head.
On one walk, two months after moving, I saw a group of men stride into a gym.
Something urged me to follow them.
It was the
I started copying the men, testing out a bicep curl
1960s and women in gyms was almost unheard of.
I started copying some of the men, picking up a weight and testing out a bicep curl.
As I focused on each muscle powering my arm, my head cleared.
For the first time in years, I was able to work through the grief.
It was the moment I knew I belonged in a gym.
Every spare moment I had was spent working out. When Jane Fonda took off in the 80s and inspired a generation of women to join a gym, I was ahead of the game.
By the time I was 39, I’d met Robert, 23 – and we moved back to London, getting married three years later.
Working out in a gym, one of the trainers approached me.
‘You look great – you should think about bodybuilding,’ he encouraged.
‘What’s that?’ I asked. He explained that it was a competition where you show off your muscles on stage.
It wouldn’t hurt to give it a go...
I could bench-press 68kg and do a bicep curl with 22kg – not bad for a woman my age!
So in May 1994
I entered my first competition in London. Competing against men and women, I was one of the oldest there at 50.
And I came second!
In 1996, Robert and I moved to South Carolina – and I started regularly taking part in bodybuilding competitions.
Throughout my 50s and 60s I scored the top spot in the over-45 category 10 times.
In 2000, aged 56, I got my personal-trainer certification and have taught men and women from 17 to 80.
Most of my clients are men who’ve seen me around the gym and told me they want arms like mine.
Last year, I turned 74 – and to celebrate, I broke a record for doing 21 pull-ups in a row.
When I think back to my grief in those early days, the gym helped save me from a life of depression.
It is something I still struggle with, but I’ll push through it at the gym.
The gym has kept me happy and healthy, and I believe there’s nothing more important than the smile on my face.
The gym helped save me from a life of depression