Why My Best Friend Margaret Started Lifting Weights at 74 (And Why I’m Never Letting Her Live It Down)
My best friend Margaret turned 74 in March. For her birthday, I got her a card that said “Old enough to know better, young enough to deadlift.” She laughed, hung it on her fridge, and then, because Margaret has always been extra, actually started deadlifting. Six months later, she’s squatting 95 pounds, her doctor is speechless, and she texts me gym selfies with the caption “Your turn, grandma.” I hate her a little bit. But mostly I’m proud, because if Margaret can do this at 74, literally no one over 60 has an excuse. Here’s the whole ridiculous, inspiring story, told exactly how Margaret tells it to anyone who will listen (usually while flexing).
It All Started With a Pickle Jar and a Fall
Last December, Margaret reached for a jar of pickles, couldn’t twist the lid, and somehow ended up on the kitchen floor. Nothing broken, thank God, but her pride was shattered. The next week her doctor said the words “pre-osteoporosis” and “significant muscle loss.” Margaret came over for tea, cried a little, and announced, “I’m not going out like this. I refuse to be the little old lady who needs help with her suitcase.”
Two days later she marched into the local gym wearing leopard-print leggings (because of course she did) and asked for the oldest trainer they had. They gave her Josh, age 29. He took one look at her and said “Ma’am, are you sure you don’t want the senior aqua class?” Margaret replied, “Sweetheart, I want to scare my grandchildren. Teach me to lift.”
Margaret’s Actual Beginner Routine (That She Still Brags About)
Week 1–4 (3 times a week, never more than 40 minutes):
•Box squats to a sturdy chair (no weight, just perfect form)
•Seated dumbbell shoulder presses with the pink 3-pounders
•Resistance-band rows while gossiping with the lady next to her
•Carrying two cans of tomatoes around the gym like a farmer (her idea)
•Dead bugs on a mat (she named hers “the politicians”)
She was sore. She complained. She kept going. By week eight she was using the big-girl dumbbells and calling Josh “baby trainer.”
Where Margaret Is Now (And Yes, She Wants Everyone to Know)
Current workout (still only 2–3 days a week because bridge club is sacred):
1. Goblet squats — 35-pound kettlebell like it’s nothing
2. Romanian deadlifts — 95 pounds (she sends me videos just to watch me cry)
3. Lat pulldowns — 80 pounds and perfect form
4. Dumbbell chest press — 20s in each hand
5. Farmer carries with 30-pound dumbbells for 40 seconds (she walks past the young guys on purpose)
6. Plank — 75 seconds on her toes now, no knees (show-off)
She finishes every session with a protein shake she blends herself (vanilla whey, frozen berries, and a splash of Baileys “for morale”).
The Changes Margaret Won’t Shut Up About
•Her bone density scan in September? Improved. Doctor used the words “statistically impossible.” Margaret framed the report.
•She carried all eight grocery bags from the car in ONE trip last week. Her husband filmed it.
•Arthritis in her hands? Barely notices it anymore.
•Blood pressure down, mood up, sleeps like a 20-year-old.
•She bought a sleeveless dress for the first time since 1985. Wore it to church just to watch jaws drop.
Margaret’s Rules for Any Senior Thinking About Starting
She made me write these down word-for-word:
1. “Tell your doctor, but don’t let them talk you out of it. Mine tried. I fired him and found a new one.”
2. “Start stupid-light. Ego is the number one cause of injury.”
3. “Find a trainer who treats you like an athlete, not a patient.”
4. “Protein, protein, protein. I eat 100 grams a day now and I’m still the same dress size. Magic.”
5. “Lift with friends. We have a 70+ crew now. We call ourselves The Iron Grandmas. We have T-shirts.”
The Text She Sent Me Last Week
“Remember when you said I’d never stick with the gym? Well guess who just hit a 100-pound hip thrust for 10 reps. Come spot me tomorrow or I’m telling everyone about the time you got stuck in the kayak.”
I’m going tomorrow. Obviously.
If Margaret Can Do It, Honestly, Who Can’t?
Margaret is 74. She has two replaced knees, a metal plate in her wrist from 1972, and a bridge game every Tuesday that she refuses to miss. She gardens, travels, spoils her great-grandbabies, and still finds time to terrorize the weight room.
Her favorite line now (she says it to every senior who stares at her dumbbells):
“I’m not trying to live forever. I’m just making damn sure the years I have left don’t need a walker.”
So yeah. My best friend Margaret is officially the strongest 74-year-old I know, and she’s not slowing down. If you’re over 60 and sitting on the couch reading this, do yourself (and your future pickle jars) a favor: text your own Margaret and tell her you’re starting Monday.
The Iron Grandmas have room for one more.