I showed up late and was completely flustered. Where were the weights? How heavy should I go? Should I challenge myself with 10-pound dumbbells or play it safe with 4-pounders to avoid judgmental stares from the regulars? “That’s my spot,” snapped a muscular woman who clearly knew her way around the class. As a first-timer, I was lost. After thirty years, I wanted to push my body in new ways, but my nervous mind wasn’t making it easy.
Lately, the message that women need to build strength seemed to be everywhere. In May, writer Casey Johnston released A Physical Education, a memoir about ditching endless diets for weightlifting and finding herself in the process—a real-life parallel to Miranda July’s fictional character in All Fours, whose self-discovery journey includes kettlebells and affairs. Then, former Wall Street Journal reporter Anne Marie Chaker published Lift: How Women Can Reclaim Their Physical Power and Transform Their Lives, detailing how weight training pulled her out of a personal slump. She writes that psychologists studying sports behavior believe intense lifting can rewire the brain—meaning my anxious mind might benefit too. (Studies link weight training to improved nervous system function and slower cognitive decline.)
The idea is popping up everywhere—from morning shows to neuroscience podcasts. One viral video showed a man’s smirk turning to shock as a woman grabbed dumbbells and started shadowboxing. Nearly 75% of adults are eating more protein, many loading up on eggs to build muscle. Even Khloé Kardashian launched protein-dusted popcorn. (Protein helps muscles recover and grow after workouts.)
Yet, like many millennial women who prefer Pilates and park walks, I’d barely glanced at the weights gathering dust in the corners of my low-impact classes. I’d always assumed strength training wasn’t for me—I wanted to be lean and flexible, not bulky. For years, I was a runner, though I only enjoyed the post-run high, fueled by endorphins and smugness. But eventually, I quit, realizing my body had weak spots that needed addressing. Maybe it was time to face the weights. Though I live in New York, I started training in London, where I was temporarily staying—time felt short.
We’ve long known that muscle loss with age leads to frailty, especially in women. Menopause increases osteoporosis risk, and strength training is one of the best defenses. But the conversation is shifting. “Midlife and menopause are having a moment,” says Maria Luque, a fitness expert and professor at Trident University International. “Suddenly, we’re talking about it.” Recent research—including a 2024 study of 400,000 people—shows women can exercise less than men and still reap major benefits. What’s new is the understanding that women should start strength training much earlier.
“There should be more focus on what we teach young women,” says Dr. Martha Gulati, a cardiologist at Cedars-Sinai and lead researcher of the study. “Girls might play soccer, but no one tells them resistance training could improve their running.” Starting something new can be intimidating—but maybe it’s time.As you get older,” she explains, wanting to study the impact of everyday strength-building activities—like lifting children, helping elderly relatives, or carrying groceries.
“There’s no aspect of mental or physical health that strength training doesn’t improve,” says Luque. Many people don’t realize it can boost metabolic efficiency—more muscle means your body burns more calories even at rest, aiding long-term weight loss. (Of course, metabolism is influenced by genetics, fitness level, and other factors.) “It’s the gift that keeps on giving because it works even when you’re not actively exercising,” Luque adds.
I wanted that benefit, so I stayed through my Body Sculpt class instead of slipping out. Fueled by a competitive spark, I pushed too hard at first—powering through hip bridges, planks, and downward-facing dogs. By the time we moved to weights, my muscles were already fatigued, and I worried I’d have to quit. Surely this was too hard for everyone? Not so—a woman in her sixties, clad in bright pink leggings, was lifting twice my weight. “Women are the toughest trainers in this business,” my instructor, Natalie Hope, told me afterward.
I soon realized that embracing strength training didn’t mean giving up my favorite low-impact workouts. “Pilates and strength training complement each other perfectly,” says Sophie-Rose Harper, a former musician turned sought-after West London Pilates instructor. In her calming studio, she guided me through core exercises on the reformer before moving me to the Cadillac—a contraption resembling a circus trapeze—to target my posterior chain, hamstrings, and calves (key for deadlifts).
Between Pilates sessions, I started training at home, joining the growing trend fueled by the “strong is the new hot” mantra. My setup kept me motivated: a foldable mat from Stakt and weights from Pvolve, Jennifer Aniston’s preferred resistance workout. I chose a Pvolve streaming class with an instructor whose energy was upbeat but not overwhelming. “Squeeze that mid-back!” she urged as I considered quitting. “We want to stand tall for the rest of our lives!” The thought of a hunched future made me push through. “My job is to make your arms feel like they can barely move,” she added with a smirk.
Was that really the goal? Days later, my arms still felt like jelly. Maybe gentler, more consistent effort was the answer. I picked up wrist bands from Bala, a brand redefining weight training with stylish, pastel-toned accessories. Their short but intense online classes left me exhausted. On walks, I wore their one-pound bangles, turning my strolls into power walks. Over time, my endurance grew—carrying groceries, packages, and suitcases became effortless.
Near the end of my month-long experiment, I tried a class at Tracy Anderson’s studio, part of her MyMode program blending heavier resistance with her signature moves. “It’s about moving your body in new ways,” explained studio manager Leigh Moss as I bounced on a spring-loaded floor to protect my joints. The high-intensity sequences, especially oblique-focused moves, were challenging—but I kept up. For the first time, I felt truly strong, as if I was uncovering a new version of myself.
In this story: Hair by Akki using Dyson; makeup by Kabuki for Dior Beauty; manicure by Honey. Produced by Ted & Jane Productions. Set design by Stefan Beckman.