It’s 6.30am on a cold February morning and I’m already pedalling manically on a workout bike as I belt out the lyrics to All That Jazz. My quads – and lungs – are burning, but I’m grinning from ear to ear.
I appreciate cardio spin at dawn isn’t every midlife woman’s cup of tea. Friends regularly look pained, bored or concerned for my mental wellbeing when I wax lyrical about new workouts (standing core, anyone?).
Though they do sometimes squeeze my biceps admiringly, few can relate to my dedication to fitness. Nor the money I’m prepared to throw at it.
In the past five years, I have spent over £10,000 on getting the strongest body of my life. It’s an eye-watering sum that includes expensive equipment, endless classes and exorbitant gym membership. But considering I’m a 43-year-old mother of four daughters, aged 15, 13, ten and eight, I’d say it’s completely worth it.
So, too, are the 15-plus hours of exercise I do each week to maintain my all-new body – and mind.
After all, it’s not just about ripped abs and enviable arms – this is the most powerful and resilient I’ve ever been mentally, too.
And contrary to all those leaping on the fat jabs bandwagon, this is not about weight loss. In fact, I’m bigger than ever before.
I look at my developing muscles – bulging biceps, rippling deltoids in my shoulders, growing traps in my upper back – and I feel like a She-Hulk in a sports bra. In a good way. Yes, I’ve gone from a size 8 to a size 10-12 as a result of my new regime – and I genuinely couldn’t be happier.
Jennifer Barton says she spent over £10,000 on getting the strongest body of her life, but insists that the cost is worth it, as she now feels happier and more mentally resilient
This is quite something for someone who grew up in the 1990s, when being skinny was everything. And who, as a former ballerina, wanted to make my body as small and lean as humanly possible.
Whereas in my younger years I always counted calories, these days I eat whatever I like: a mix of healthy salads, veggie curries, indulgent pastas and occasional junk (I’m an American who grew up on UPFs; Cheetos will always have a place in my heart).
And I no longer spend hours agonising over my body’s perceived failures or triumphs. I used to resent my broad shoulders, hips and rib cage. And I was so self-conscious that even when I got a belly button piercing aged 17, I never dared show anyone.
Fast forward 25 years and after four babies, with loose belly skin and an umbilical hernia, I’d wear a crop top for every occasion if I could. (Though, for the children’s sake, I’d cover up at parents’ evenings.)
I feel more confident in my body and its strength and appearance in my 40s than I ever did when I had youth on my side.
And it’s all thanks to a fine balance of exercise, yoga and mindset. The important thing is I don’t put any pressure on myself. I’m not trying to train for a Hyrox fitness competition or beat a personal best. There are no creatine supplements; there are no ‘leg days’. I just make sure I move a little – or a lot – every day.
How do I manage this with four children? Exercise snacking. This means fitting in workouts of varying intensity and length around other chores – mostly at home so I don’t need childcare. The shortest workout is just ten minutes, while the kids are doing their homework around me (the Peloton lives in the kitchen).
The longest is a 90-minute vinyasa yoga session on a Monday when they’re at school, followed by a brisk walk.
Most regularly, though, it will be 30 minutes of cycling, followed by ten minutes of arms-and-light-weights work if I have time.
Exercising near-daily has a hugely positive impact on my mental health, too, helping ease my anxiety and improve my sleep and energy levels.
Not that physical training is new to me. As a child, I fell in love with ballet and spent a decade at the School of American Ballet in Manhattan, dreaming of becoming a professional dancer. The difference is that it was physically and mentally punishing – and this version is not.
Though I didn’t quite have the talent or devotion required to make it as a ballerina, I blamed myself for failing to have the right build: I was too broad-shouldered, busty and, at 5ft 8in, taller than lots of the boys who were meant to be partnering me.
No matter how heavily I restricted my caloric consumption through my tweens and teens – to the point where I was sluggish from lack of nutrients – I would never achieve the long, lithe-but-tiny ‘dream ballet body’ that was so coveted at the time.
Training reminds Jennifer of her time at the School of American Ballet in Manhattan (pictured as a teenager). But, she says, that was far more punishing than exercise in midlife
Jennifer, like many women her age, used the Peloton app to help her get into Pilates and yoga. She is also studying for a yoga teaching certification, as she enjoys the sport so much
After giving up ballet at 17, I rebelled against the micro-management of my body, diet, training – and teenage life.
Then came marriage and children, going through pregnancies, deliveries and months of breastfeeding from my late-20s to mid-30s, which changed my body every few months.
Gradually, the voice in my head softened. The constantly critiquing ballet teen disappeared. But my postpartum body’s fragility scared me: how could one tiny sneeze cause an excruciating back spasm and a pelvic leak?
My abs had separated significantly, my pelvic floor was a mess, and I was compensating for weakness in my glutes by putting pressure on my hips and knees.
After the cartilage in my knee tore in 2019 – not from exercise, but from getting up from the sofa – I realised that, after years of ballet and pregnancies, I desperately needed to get stronger to avoid future issues.
In 2020, in my late-30s, I was no longer pregnant or breastfeeding, so my knee surgeon advised that stationary cycling could help rehabilitate my weakened leg. Enter the Peloton.
For once I wasn’t trying to push my body to the max. I decided to try to enjoy myself instead, choosing workouts based on soundtracks (Broadway show tunes!) instead of fitness goals.
I started gentle yoga then, two years later, strength training.
Exercise became more meditative, instead of focused on the pursuit of a lean, muscular body.
I soon noticed changes in how I parent (more patient), approach my career as a writer (more energy) and interact with my husband, Will (again more patience), who’s also hooked on Peloton strength and cycling classes.
On the rare occasions we’re away from the kids, we’ve become that annoying couple that heads straight for the hotel gym, whether we’re in Somerset or New York, the city where I was born (Will and I met at university in the UK). And, yes, we take gym selfies together.
We encourage and motivate each other when it comes to fitness, and Will is nothing but supportive. He admires my muscles, sure, but mostly I think he loves that I can help him install a giant new TV in our living room without throwing my back out.
It can’t be a coincidence that the past two-and-a-half-years – when I’ve ramped up my exercising – I’ve completely cut out alcohol. I gave it up in July 2023 and haven’t been tempted since. And it’s safe to say that exercise has replaced booze as a hobby for me.
But it doesn’t come cheap. The Peloton bike, purchased in 2020, has been worth every penny of its £1,750 cost (and £30-plus monthly subscription). Not only do my husband and daughters use it, but I credit the Peloton app with helping me to learn to run, strength train and get back into Pilates and yoga.
Then there’s the gear (weights, foam rollers, dumbbells), which has set me back hundreds. And workout clothing from Alo, where leggings cost over £100 – I have at least five pairs.
Then there’s the yoga. I’m studying for my yoga teaching certification, so there are additional classes, workshops and trainings, which all adds up to over £5,000.
Although I don’t qualify until April, I’ve already invested in mats, bolsters, blocks, lavender eye pillows (£150) and a Feet Up headstand trainer (also £150) for when I do start teaching.
And I’ve just joined Third Space, a celebrity-favoured gym in central London, which I have been fantasising about since September 2024, when I tried a free reformer Pilates class there. At £250 a month, is this indulgent? Maybe. Overkill? I don’t think so.
My happy place involves grunting bench-presses and whirring ellipticals, and I love the thrill and challenge of trying new workouts.
In my first week, I went there three times and skipped out afterwards like a decade-younger version of myself. An hour spent there leaves me feeling like I’ve had an overnight escape to a five-star hotel.
In my defence, some people join a choir, take up dance, others love a blowdry, but I just want to run . . . then sit in a towel and sweat it out.
After years of putting myself last, I am determined not to feel guilty for spending money, or time, on myself. I am only too pleased that my approach is rubbing off on my girls – especially my teens, who are serious about playing cricket and spend a few days a week doing strength and agility exercises together.
It makes my inner child jump for joy when I see my daughters are being encouraged to cultivate the very same shoulders I tried to hunch out of existence.
I love that being ‘ripped’ and physically powerful is not to be feared – but now something a woman can truly aspire to. In her 40s and beyond . . .
