SWOLE

I asked Russ to show me around the weight room at the gym. The last time I lifted weights, I was a senior in high school. We used to lift once a week for forty-five minutes before jumping in the pool for the last hour of practice, but I found even that was too much for my liking. I was a self-proclaimed outdoor enthusiast who preferred wide, open spaces, preferably on horseback, preferably in the middle of a cross-country course, practicing my newly-found obsession: Eventing. In the weight room, I felt like a mouse trapped on the short plank of a mousetrap, scurrying through the coiled springs of exercises, trying not to get snapped in half. The indoor pool was bad enough, but at least I could move from one end to the other at varying speeds, tiring myself out in the process. (Read: It put a dent in my festering anxiety.)

I never understood the attraction to weights. I mean, I get the point of lifting, but I wondered how much it really helped the average “cardio” athlete: the swimmers, the runners, etc. Besides, I was addicted to cardio. That “swimmer’s high” and “runner’s high” are real. But after two weeks of alternating running with weights, I began to understand. Weight machines accomplish two goals. First, it prevents me from running every day, so there’s that. (For now, anyway.) Second, it allows me to pinpoint my weak spots, such as my hips and IT bands, and work on strengthening those. But I’ve discovered the machine part of the weights is key. They allow me to lift a fraction of my body weight at a time, versus carrying all of it at once. I don’t think I could appreciate this “boost” in mechanics until now. I get it. Weight machines are for the middle-aged or those recovering from injury. Same thing, pretty much, right? (Ok, ok, calm down, all you weight junkies. I’m just kidding…about some things, anyway.)

This is what happened. My “weak” side became my stronger side in running. No longer did one knee and heel bark the loudest on one side, but my IT band and my groin on my once “strong” leg began whimpering profusely. I ran my race, but I knew I was on the verge of a serious breakdown, especially coming off of it. I should also mention that my gym offers a lot of different classes: strength and cardio, boxing, spin, hot pilates, but spoiler alert, they are all HIIT classes. This is what corporate does: they whittle down a “sport” into its basic, core components, then turn the speed up on full blast. Why do 10 repetitions in thirty seconds when you can do 45? Despite this physical input, my weak points weren’t benefiting from the exercises.

So I decided to tap into some of my previous physical therapy exercises, isolating each leg with strength-training exercises. One of the most popular techniques they used was standing on a box and lowering one leg as far as one could, without losing their balance or their standing leg buckling inward at the knee. The other one they liked to use was a single-leg kettlebell deadlift. Basically, you are lifting one straight leg behind you as your upper body leans forward, holding the kettlebell. Practicing these exercises now, four years later, I struggled with both, so much so that I didn’t feel like I was actually doing them and consequently didn't get much out of them. But at the gym, I can use a machine and achieve the full range of motion for the intended exercise because I am using only a fraction of my body weight. I get it. I need tools now. Using weight machines isn’t unlike grabbing a pair of blocks before yoga practice. I won’t lie. I was totally against blocks—for me—at the height of my yoga practice in my thirties. My mantra in class was either “Try harder” or “Suck it up, Buttercup.” (Ok, ok, that’s not very enlightened thinking, I know, but pool to yoga mat…that’s spiritual growth, right?)

After the second week, I asked Russ, “So, am I swole now? I think I am.”

He smirked. “How many times have you been? Four? Ask me again in six months.”

But my runs are better. My legs feel stronger. The niggling pains are gone. I entered another half-marathon at the end of April. If that isn’t swole, I don’t know what is.