52 Weeks Under the Bar: How Strength Training After 50 Changed My Life

There is a moment after a long stretch of inertia when your body quietly says, Move.

For me, that moment came after Covid. Life had settled into a fog. Routines had blurred together. Days were fine on the surface, but I could feel something inside me getting duller and heavier. I knew that if I stayed still much longer, it would become harder to restart. I wrote about that feeling of inertia, and how I taught my daughter how to cross a log using momentum in Momentum in the Woods

A friend of mine mentioned that she had tried rowing, and for some reason that simple comment stuck with me. I thought, Why not? It was the little prod I needed. Nothing heroic, nothing dramatic, just a small nudge that got me to sign up for a class.

So I walked into a rowing studio.

I did not crush it.

Those early classes were hard enough that I sometimes had to step outside to catch my breath. My lungs burned. My legs shook. My stamina felt like a distant memory. But something important had shifted. I was done waiting to feel ready. I was willing to show up as the person I was, not the person I used to be.

Slow and steady became my recipe. Doing something was better than doing nothing, so I put classes on my calendar and honored them. That was the commitment I made to myself. Some days I pushed. Some days I eased off. Over time my form improved, and consistency began doing what consistency always does. Difficult things started feeling possible again. I talk more about that approach to habit building in Fitness Journey: Building Consistent Habits Rowing woke my body up, but it also woke up a sense of agency I had been missing. I was steering again.

Around the same time, I started physical therapy. Slow, controlled weight lifting; ten second positives and ten second negatives for legs, chest, shoulders, back, neck, and abs. Those movements rebuilt me one inch at a time and reminded me what effort felt like. They also made me think more seriously about aging. Watching my parents move into the later stages of their lives made me look ahead at my own. I do not want my seventies and eighties to be a slow fade. I want to be strong and independent. I want to travel, be active, walk outside, coach, learn, and keep growing. I want to keep living.

Strength became the way forward, not just for today, but for the life I want decades from now.

I read The Barbell Prescription and the message landed deeply. As we age, our bodies need physical stress. Bones need it. Muscles need it. The whole system depends on it. So one year ago, I opened the StrongLifts app and began lifting.

I liked StrongLifts because it was simple. Five lifts. Five sets of five. Add a little weight each time. Squat, bench, deadlift, overhead press, barbell row. Show up once a week and do the work.

In the beginning, the work humbled me. After my first week squatting 90 pounds, the soreness lasted three or four days. My legs felt like someone else’s. That was too much too soon, so in week two I dropped to 75 pounds and started from there.

Listening to my body became the key to avoiding injury. I never rushed the process. I stretched before and after rowing to keep my muscles limber. I respected recovery. I drank lots of water.

Small habits, repeated quietly and steadily, became their own form of momentum.

I showed up every Wednesday. I never wanted to go, but I always went, and I always walked out feeling better. One year later, I have had zero injuries. I have doubled my squat. I have gained confidence in the movements. And more importantly, the strength started to show up in the moments that mattered.

I could fireman carry my daughter up the stairs after she fell asleep on the couch watching tv and not feel winded. I could go outside and have a catch with my son without pain. I could move around at baseball/softball practice with nine and twelve year olds and actually keep up. That was the moment I realized the barbell was changing me. Not in the gym, but in my life.

And the numbers followed the feeling. I started squats at 75 pounds, and this last week I hit a new record: 170 pounds for five sets of five. I never imagined moving weight like that in my forties, but here I am, getting stronger a little at a time.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I was heading into my fifties in better shape than I went into my forties. That kind of transformation does not come from dramatic overhauls. It comes from small, steady habits, repeated long enough to matter.

I also set a new goal for myself, something I have never been able to do. I want to do a pull-up without assistance. I could not even do them in my twenties. Each week, I use the assisted pull-up machine and do two sets of five. I started with eighty-five pounds of assistance and have worked my way down to fifty-five. Maybe this will be the year I get my first real pull-up. If not this year, then the next. But I will get there. Believing in future strength has become its own motivation.

After 52 weeks under the bar, I feel like I am becoming the person I want to be at fifty, and more importantly, I am building the person I want to be at seventy and eighty. Strong. Independent. Active. Curious. Alive.

This year taught me something simple. Progress belongs to the people who keep showing up. You do not need a six day routine. You do not need motivation. You do not need to be young. You only need one choice.

Start.

Start rowing.

Start walking.

Start lifting.

Start moving.

Start again if you need to.

Strength is not only physical. It is a way of saying yes to your future. A way of choosing life over decline. A way of building the version of yourself you want to become.

If you are thinking about starting, let this be the encouragement you needed.

It is never too late.