'At 40, weightlifting saved me when my life fell apart'

a person performing a kettlebell exercise in a gym setting
'At 40, lifting saved me when my life fell apart Lacee Lazoff

A couple of years ago, I entered a chapter of life that put my mental strength to the test. As a self-employed personal trainer and the co-owner of a digital fitness platform, I was at a crossroads in my business, feeling very unclear of my path and bigger purpose. This was especially fear-inducing being in the final years of my 30s, with the creeping dread that my life was not unfolding as it was supposed to for someone approaching 40.

On top of this, my grandmother and uncle passed away, and I separated from my business partner and close friend, as well as my long-term boyfriend. To swim against the current without a paddle even harder, the previously mentioned boyfriend and I had planned a second residence in a new place—Mexico City—which inadvertently became my primary home. In the midst of it all, I found myself alone, not knowing a soul except for my dog, while living my day-to-day life fully in my second language.

My solace became solo gym sessions. I quite literally leaned on kettlebells and barbells. As a trainer, lifting gave me solace, peace, and familiarity. The gym was a place for me to break down, release energy, and process my grief. I had built a small gym on the patio of my apartment and also joined a local gym, mostly to have somewhere to go. Training in both spaces gave me the feeling of suspending time—pausing my emotions of sadness, loneliness, and grief for a short while.

call to action for fitness resources across all ages
call to action for fitness resources across all ages

Entering male-dominated spaces like the gym and touching iron helped me feel strong

I started filming myself and posting the evidence of my strength work, and growing confidence and vulnerability, on Instagram. In trackies and a little mascara, I grunted. I moved my barbell like a dangerous woman.

Eventually, I complemented my strength-training therapy with biweekly sessions with a mindset coach (whom I still work with today) at the recommendation of a friend. My goal was to talk through the ups and downs I was experiencing as an entrepreneur, as well as in my personal life. Our talks centred around me learning to embody the belief that things are happening for me instead of to me. Things. Are. Happening. For. Me.

In addition, we worked on helping me understand that so much of the stress I was putting on myself was rooted in the societal pressures I had internalised about how an adult woman should be as a business owner and boss. About what she should have when it comes to a romantic relationship. Or what she should look like as she nears 40.

The more I worked with my coach, and the more I strength trained, I realised: Resistance training was just that—my form of true resistance. She helped me to see how much I sought to control in my life to avoid fear—and how that chokehold was hindering my ability to flow and allow what was meant for me to reveal itself. I could be both assertive, driven by passion, and open to possibilities beyond the limits of my control.

Strength training was my rebel yell from the battlefield that we, as women, have to change the narrative behind what we tell ourselves about who we are, who we should be, what we should say, and what we are supposed to be doing with our lives. Strength training allowed me to put flow state into practice; by showing up and trusting the process without expectation.

Lifting weights is a physical, feminist act of rebellion

Building visible muscle and taking up physical space is typically not viewed as aspirational for women in Western culture. We’re bombarded with diets and workouts promoting lean bodies, thigh gaps, big glutes and small waists. The wins we’re told to go after are mostly physical manifestations of unreachable ideals: stay small (in the right places), stay quiet, perform for the gaze of others. Do enough to keep up appearances until you reach a certain age when it doesn’t matter. Don’t step outside of the lines of how the patriarchy has defined femininity.

Think about it: to sweat, grunt, have calloused hands, and a double-your-body-weight deadlift commands presence and power. It’s an unsaid statement against the patriarchal cage.

When I was drowning in the abyss of my life circling the drain at the unmentionable age of 40, one lift at a time, I repeated my mantra: Things are happening for me. Building my physical strength continued to reward me with inner confidence. Changing how my body felt, looked, and performed was in my control. Something just hits different when you can crush a bench press as an unmarried, childless dog lady in 2024.

Women that lift heavy things are more likely to stand up taller, use their voices, and take no shit

In the first weeks of 2025, I've reflected back on my process of building muscle, regaining my confidence, and mourning loss. I can say with unwavering certainty that lifting heavy things in the gym—physically expressing my femininity in the most stereotypically masculine of ways—felt like opening a door to parts of myself that I never had the courage to see before. I found power through physical strength training to, as my coach encouraged, exist without self-imposed labels. Without limits.

Today, my boyfriend and I are reunited and living in a dream apartment in Mexico City, where I’ve continued to create an even more expansive home gym on our private rooftop. I’ve moved past relationships in my life that are out of alignment, welcomed new people in, and embraced career opportunities that feel right.

I’ve listened to my body: resting, sleeping, moving weight, eating nourishing meals and pausing enough to enjoy doing absolutely nothing. At 41, I’ve re-learned that physical strength is a hidden path to confidence, that many of us as women move through life and never see.

The most rewarding experience as a strength training coach for the past decade has been introducing women to the weight room, helping them take a step on the path and building a muscle-mindset revolution.

Even if you’re in a place of blissful contentment, the tides inevitably turn—and a muscled body will help you weather the storms of life with unwavering confidence and poise. So, this is my plea to you, and women everywhere: even in the most uncertain of times, remember that things are happening for you.

And when you’re feeling weak on the inside, fuel your strength on the outside and see how you transform. There will always be a barbell waiting.


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