ABSTRACT

Once, a long time ago, I was in love: iron, muscles, veins, the incredible rush of the pump, the exhilaration of the 350 squat, the 225 bench. This, I thought, was the great equalizer, some precious, off-the-beaten track place where gender assumptions and restrictions fell away at the first lift and every vestige of historical constructions of female weakness floated away like San Francisco fog. Here, in the gym, I fit in. Here, in the gym, I had a place. A validation of my deepest longings, convictions, an unwavering sense of my own gold.