First, a definition: “mum strength” is a display of extreme strength, beyond what is believed to be normal, occurring when people are faced with life and death situations. And, although this may sound extreme, that’s what I’ve felt I needed in lockdown.
The moment Boris uttered the L-word, my first panicked thought was for Target Fit, the gym on my local high street that would be bolting its doors to me for the foreseeable future – air bikes collecting dust, TRX hanging motionless.
I’m no gym bunny, far from it, but a twice-weekly habit has been a successful substitute for the expensive psychotherapy I was relying on to keep the demons at bay. Anxiety and depression have hung over me for years, but a few hours of kettlebells and circuits, with my personal trainer Matt, helps to keep my head more healthy, and for that he’s worth every penny.
That’s why I was terrified at the prospect of weeks or months indoors, with no mental or physical escape, all the while home schooling my sassy five-year-old Daphne. I didn’t hang around. Within 15 minutes of Boris leaving his lectern, I’d purchase a selection of heavy duty gym equipment, without really thinking about what I’d stuck in my basket.
So what had I added to that little shopping trolley in the top right-hand corner of my mobile? Dumbbells? Kettlebells? A skipping rope? No no, that would be far too basic. Instead I went for a full size 20kg Olympic barbell (eschewing the 15kg women’s bar – pfft!), a set of competition weight plates and a sturdy weightlifter’s belt.
Why I splurged over a week’s wages on equipment I’d barely touched before, I have no idea. All I know is that I was staring down the barrel of a gun and I needed to front it out with something that symbolised sweaty, shouty strength. As Olympic-style weightlifting is the kind you might associate with aggressive-looking men bulging under a bar stacked full of weights, blood vessels set to burst, it seemed just the ticket.
In Oly lifting, as us lifters call it (stop sniggering), there are two main competition lifts: the snatch and the clean and jerk. The sport focuses on testing our explosive inner strength, something I was in dire need of pepping up when faced with days and days of mathletics and bum wiping.
Matt suggested a Zoom hook-up to train me three times a week, and that I could pay him using the PayPal app – all I needed was his mobile number.
So far, so smooth – although it turns out that training through a computer screen isn’t ideal when you’re chucking huge lumps of metal around for the first time. We had glitches and freezes, a few smashed patio tiles and one rather awkward moment when I overheard his housemate talking about exfoliating his testicles. But a few weeks in, my squats were lower than my Monday blues and I felt powerful.
While I used to spend my idle time scrolling social media, now my thumbs searched out warm up exercises for athletes and (more often) pictures of retro lifters, inspiration for the look I wanted to channel. One I came across had it all: rock-hard muscles, wild 80s hair, mahogany fake tan, skimpy vintage lycra. I sent it excitedly to Matt who replied that it was, indeed, a great look – but the guy was a WWF wrestler.
As the curve began to flatten, I’d begun to throw 32kg above my head, the weight of the average 10-year-old, 213 bananas or a fully-grown male golden retriever. I celebrated by buying a training vest with a picture of He-Man lifting a barbell, the words “Do you even lift bro?” printed underneath. What can I say? These are unprecedented times.
The local butcher had a good laugh when I wore it, guffawing: “Are you a weightlifter then? Lol”, not expecting the answer to be yes – and that he should keep a close eye on his labrador.
Lockdown has thrown me completely into the unknown in the way I move my body and keep anxiety at bay. While, since I hit my 40s two years ago, my mental wellbeing is the top reason I exercise, it’s followed closely by the former No 1: the desire to be slimmer. Spoiler alert: I’m no slimmer and I’m a long way from deadlifting a St Bernard, but this is the first time I’ve used working out to really strengthen both my body and mind, in unison.
Daphne is diving into the deep end with me. A recent evening walk along the River Roding escalated quickly when she tore off her clothes and waded into the freezing water for a spot of wild swimming, risking Weil’s disease for nothing but giggles. Lockdown liberation is A Thing and, in this family, it’s spreading.
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