Everyone loses muscle as they get older. The loss begins when you’re in your midthirties and continues for the rest of your life, averaging 3 to 5 percent of total muscle per decade. This has long been one of the most sobering aspects of the aging process. Muscle is what enables us to move, and with less muscle we will move less. Not a good trend.
When I was in my twenties and early thirties, running more than 100 miles a week, I did nothing but run. I wanted every minute and every hour to deliver the maximum possible training. I should have gotten smarter when I dramatically reduced my running at age thirty-five, but I didn’t. It wasn’t until retirement age that I mustered the gumption and determination to head to a gym awash in strength-building equipment. I had no idea how to use the weights and machines. I simply hadn’t paid any attention for the previous forty years.
I set no muscle-head records. But I stuck with my new gym program and slowly—very slowly—worked out how to do various strength exercises. At first I couldn’t help but ask myself, “How many miles is this worth in my training log?” I soon evolved into guilt-free strength training.
My new routine didn’t produce any miraculous results. My weight didn’t change, I didn’t have to buy larger shirts, and my wife didn’t swoon. But after just a few weeks, I actually began to enjoy my trips to the gym, especially the new variety in my weekly workout routine. This was enough to keep me going.
A half dozen years later, I can report that the first miraculous change has yet to occur. I’ve got a bit more muscle definition here and there. Still, I’m no bulging Superman—no way, no where, no how. At the same time, I also haven’t had an overuse injury since I started my strength program. And my running, slow though it might be, feels smoother and more coordinated than I remember.
Along with running, I know I’ll be strength training forever.
Hit the weights twice a week: That’s the routine recommended by experts at the American College of Sports Medicine, the most evidence-based fitness group I know. For the most part I do what it says, and it works out well. I concentrate 80 percent of my strength training on the upper body, in part because that’s where I look most like a stringy noodle, in part because I want to retain a good running posture.
I’ve got a few old buddies who tilt a bit when they run. I’d like to avoid that. Maybe it’s just a case of vanity on the roads. Or maybe a strong and balanced upper body can contribute to a piston-like leg swing below. At any rate I want to continue running tall and straight.
Practice the plank: When it comes to strengthening the core muscles, it’s hard to beat the basic plank position. Also, there’s nothing easier. You simply get down on the floor, lift yourself onto your toes and forearms, and hold that position (with a straight spine) for 20 to 60 seconds. Increase the time as the exercise becomes more comfortable.
Recently I’ve begun doing the three-point plank. In this variation, you lift one leg into the air, or pick up one arm. It’s an additional challenge, no doubt about it. Another type of plank—the side plank—strengthens the lateral core muscles.
Build functional strength: As we age we tend to have more balance problems. I’ve certainly noticed this. These arise for a number of reasons, including diminished vision, hearing, and proprioception, and muscle loss. There are many ways to work on your balance. I often stand on one leg while cooking foods in the microwave. But my favorite routine combines strength and balance. It was recommended to me by Bill Pierce, an outstanding teacher, runner, and author with the FIRST program at Furman University. Like many modern training experts, Pierce preaches “functional fitness”—that is, exercises that mimic your primary activity.
For runners, the walking lunge is a top functional exercise. It gets even better when you raise your hands overhead while walking forward. And better again if you carry modestly weighted dumbbells in your hands. This simple movement builds quad strength, core fitness, and balance. You could hardly ask for more.