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I'll let you in a secret: I Strength Train.
Five to six days a week I throw a large gym bag into my car and drive 4 miles to my local gym. After a 10 minutes warm-up on the cardio machines, where I am surrounded by other women, I head to the very back of the room. Here the barbell rack running under a half-wall of mirrors holds pieces of iron from 10 to 110 pounds. Flat benches, incline benches, racks, and platforms stand ready for use. There are smaller barbells ranging from 20# to 110#. Barbells, capable of holding weight plates marked 5# to 45#, sit on racks or the floor ready to challenge someone to go toward a personal best.
There are the usual assortment of men here- wearing their white t-shirts and black nylon pants. So I- in my pink work out skirt and lime green and white top- kind of stick out. However, that's only visual. Once I claim a spot, grab my weights and start working, I'm no different than the others back there: the sweat comes early and stay the whole hour- dripping off my nose, hair, chin onto the black rubber flooring below me. I mutter my reps, and tell myself "just one more" when my triceps are begging for me to stop. When I finish a set, I sit exhausted and panting watching the clock for the minute before I go again. Because of this, the guys see me as fitting in.
What has prompted me to confess this all to you? Did you notice that in the description above I did not mention the other women working along side me? While occasionally there might be another woman there, by and large, women in the free-weight section are rare. While both sexes are equally represented in the cardio section and working the weight machine circuit, few make their way back all the way to free weights.
There were a couple blog posts published last week discussing the ideas of women and strength. They spoke to me because, when surround by sweating grunting testosteroney males working as hard as me, I always miss the women who I wish would be beside me too. I see them, sitting on a leg curl machine or the "inner/outer thigh" machine watching me in the squat rack putting 100# on my back. Many smile shyly and stare -I hope they are proud that their sex is representing. Still, I wish they would do more than simply smile.
I wonder about you, reader...
--I wonder if you have bought into the false line that when women work out with heavier weights -moving beyond the pink 5# dumb bells marketed to the gentler sex-you will get huge and muscley. A line that is usually false- we women rarely produce enough testosterone to get "huge".
The Gubernatix, in her piece Strong Is Beautiful, told this secret:
I’ve never had so many compliments on my physique or attitude as when I’m training. Seriously, if you care about such things, squatting heavy is a guy magnet.
....Yeah, the world isn’t perfect but there’s plenty of spare respect to go around. Women can choose to dance around in their panties on youtube and pander to male chauvinist images of what they should look like, or women can respect themselves and pursue what they think is right for them (and if that is dancing around in your panties, why not consider competitive pole dancing?).
Pretty girls are everywhere, strong women are rare! I’ll never stand out as being pretty (I have a brilliant mind of course but that doesn’t show up in a club) but put me in a squat cage with a pair of black leggings on and I’ll show you who’s your daddy.
In case you are wondering, the Gubernatrix, in the photo above is squatting approximately 200#! Yeah, I smile when I see that picture too. But there isn't a huge, masculine looking muscle on her body. If she were standing in front of you at the grocery store would you think anything more than "that woman is in good shape. How does she do it?"
--I wonder if you believe that pushing heavy weights is somehow unfeminine. If so, I would remind you that every day you are expected to pick up children, groceries, pet food, laundry baskets, heaven-knows how many things that are heavier than a 5# pink dumb bell. Wouldn't it be better to train in a way that
