This is the weekly Amplify newsletter. If you’re reading this on the web or someone forwarded this e-mail newsletter to you, you can sign up for Amplify and all Globe newsletters here.
When I tell other parents about my daughter’s after-school class, I get one of two reactions: They’re super impressed or they say she’ll get hurt.
My daughter is 11 and has been strength training for about a year.
Personally, I’m proud as hell.
I’m Angela Pacienza, head of experience at The Globe and Mail. I lead a team of journalists who present, visualize, edit and program the journalism you consume. The team handles everything from newsletters (such as this one) and the print paper to photography and data interactives.
I knew my daughter would be physically stronger from strength training. I can see her body changing. But I also hoped she’d become mentally stronger, and to me that was much more important.
Beyond the physical improvements, she’s having a blast learning to do snatches, pull-ups, dead lifts and farmer’s walks. At every session she challenges herself, and she’s beginning to understand what her body is capable of. Between you and me, it’s a lot more than what either of us expected.
At 11 years old, my daughter’s body is growing and changing in not-so-comfortable ways. I can empathize: My own awkward teen years were filled with similar feelings, that my body was out of my control. My weight fluctuated wildly. I felt unattractive. But worst of all, I felt powerless to change anything. As my teenage years gave way to my 20s, I began yo-yo dieting and added a routine of joint-bruising cardio. I used a trainer for a little while, but money was scarce. In my 30s, I gave birth to two beautiful children. But the experience ravaged my body. As I chased after work-life balance, I told myself there was no time for fitness.
On my 40th birthday, I bought myself a 20-session package with a personal trainer. Two years later, I haven’t looked back. I continue to surpass my personal bests for dead lifts and squats. I start my day at the gym (yes, I’m one of those people at the gym at 6 a.m., but it means I’m home, showered and dressed for work as the kids are getting up so we can have breakfast together). I’ve since expanded my gym routine to include kettlebell workouts and even joined a barbell club. Weight lifting has given me the control I craved all those years ago.
It’s also given me mental clarity. I’m Type A, a personality associated with high-achieving, ambitious, action-oriented people. Success, in both my busy job and family life, is important to me. I am constantly multitasking and mentally deconstructing the countless items on my to-do list. Yoga is torture because my brain is always moving, but strength training requires focus, which allows me to let go of my stress. Mental clarity is another gift I want for my daughter.
I do encounter naysayers. There are some who believe I’m stunting her growth. Others think I’m putting her on the path to becoming a body-obsessed teen. I disagree.
The Mayo Clinic blasts some of these assumptions and differentiates between strength training (good) and powerlifting (bad). Done properly, strength training increases endurance, protects muscles and joints from injury, and improves performance in nearly any activity – whether that’s being a stronger swimmer or better at day-to-day tasks. Strength training, as the articles explains, isn’t only for athletes. It can strengthen your child’s bones, maintain healthy blood pressure and cholesterol levels, and improve a kid’s confidence and self-esteem.
My daughter’s trainer Kerry (who is also my trainer) does strength training right; Kerry focuses on proper posture, paces our weights and explains the science behind her advice. Most moves are taught as a game. A dead lift start position, for example, is “the angry gorilla.” Kerry is incredibly patient, encouraging and fun. It doesn’t hurt that she plays bass in a rock band and is covered in tattoos. My daughter thinks she’s the coolest person in the world.
I wish I knew the power of strength training when I was younger. I wish I knew about proper form and that weights wouldn’t make me bulky. I wish I had the self-discipline and confidence that comes with weight training. But it is a gift I can now give my daughter: help her understand the self-assurance that comes with mastering your body and hopefully put her on the path to a lifetime of proper fitness. (Others, like The Globe’s Sherrill Sutherland, have found that confidence through other demonstrations of strength, such as Muay Thai.)
My daughter’s strength training has also given way to discussions about the power of food – how protein and carbs will fuel her body. Our Santa wish lists looked the same this year: new gym clothes.
Every mom wants the best for their daughter. But raising daughters is terrifying. Magazines and movies set unrealistic body images, supported by an unending stream of social media bikini models – though a group of female weightlifters is changing that on Instagram. For the average 11-year old, it’s hard to separate the manufactured images from real life. With each press, curl and squat, I feel she sees what’s real and what’s not. Most importantly, she sees how she can control her own body. For me, that was the first step to gaining a sense of control over everything else.
What else we’re reading
I had never heard of Courtney Dauwalter before this Deadspin article. She’s an American ultramarathon runner. Her stamina, both mental and physical, just blew me away. In this piece, you learn about Big’s Backyard Ultra, an intense running competition in which competitors race 6.5 kilometres every hour on the hour. Finish early and you get a little rest, food or a bathroom break. Take more than an hour and you’re out. Runners keep going, all day and night, until there’s only one person remaining. I won’t tell you what happened but just know there’s no women’s category in this competition. Read it and learn all about grit, determination and endurance.
Inspired by something in this newsletter? If so, we hope you’ll amplify it by passing it on. And if there’s something we should know, or feedback you’d like to share, send us an e-mail at amplify@globeandmail.com.