‘About To Turn 50, I Transformed My Body In Three Months. Here’s How I Did It’

‘Wasn’t this basically what Hell was? People forced to endlessly lift and lower heavy things for no reason?’ I used to feel exactly the same as Miranda July’s nameless protagonist in her brilliant novel All Fours (2024), about a middle-aged woman hitting perimenopause – and a full-on identity crisis. But just like her, I came to find the gym – and specifically weight training – to be a route to something extraordinary. Not just to the most toned body I’ve ever had (causing my mother, on being shown a picture of my washboard abs, to comment worryingly, ‘Shouldn’t you stop now?’), but also to a strength and resilience that went beyond the physical. Just like my fictional counterpart, ‘the weight of my own body became less arduous. I floated around as if gravity was balanced by an equal and opposite lifting force’. I was changing.

Embarking On A Journey With Roar Fitness

With my 50th birthday looming, I had signed up for Roar Fitness’ Transformation programme. It’s a gloves-off scenario from which there’s no hiding. While it promises a staggering change in physique (just look at their socials or website – all those ‘Transformation’ pics are undoctored), there is a non-negotiable: you have to stick (almost) religiously to their plan. Almost because you don’t want to set yourself up to fail.

Before I got going, every inch of me was measured with callipers – from chin to knee and scapula to stomach – and I was photographed, muffin top and all, in my gym kit like a police mug shot. That was my baseline; accountability would come through three-weekly weigh-ins and measurements. If you’re not dropping weight, you’re cheating. Simple as that.

For me, the transformation was about the desire to be in good shape (and thinner, let’s be honest) – as well as strong for a world that demands us to be match fit to cope with the polycrises happening all around us – for my second half-century. Losing weight, especially around the stubborn tummy area, had become a Sisyphean task. There was the Mounjaro option if skinniness was all I wanted, and I can’t say I’ve never been tempted. But that wouldn’t bring me strength and power, along with the euphoric, endorphin-rich happiness and mental clarity that I experienced. No amount of Ozempic can give you that. And, despite all the people I know who are on it and loving it, I wanted to do it by myself. I didn’t want to cheat.

The First Step To Success: Diet & Nutrition

On day one, Jack – trainer and nutritionist – explained that the food bit was absolutely critical to the success of the programme. He mapped out my macros (the amount of fat, protein and carbs I should be eating daily), asking me in all seriousness whether I’d be getting some scales to weigh my food… as if. He then handed me a raft of protein-heavy recipes with a calorie count based on my bodyweight to use as a meal guide for the next 12 weeks. If you want to lose weight, you need a calorie deficit – exercise alone will never do it.

Why protein? Because it supports three key functions: it helps you feel fuller for longer; it slightly increases your metabolic rate, so your body uses more energy; and, most importantly, it maintains and builds muscle tissue – vital when losing weight, as the body can otherwise break down muscle for fuel. Out went alcohol completely, along with my daily cappuccino (dairy can cause inflammation), sugar and UPFs (obviously), and most carbs (bread, pasta, etc). In came three litres of water daily, black coffee, eggs, tofu, steak, salmon, turkey and veg, bulked out with a handful of good carbs (quinoa, brown rice, buckwheat).

As a fridge-raider with a broken satiety button, I was dreading this bit. Jack suspected my blood sugars were all over the place, and assured me that this regime would regulate them to avoid highs and crashes that perpetuate bad habits. I gulped and duly ordered the electronic scales (ditched after three days). What helped was sometimes ordering meals via Calo, a new food delivery service where you plug in your macros and three really good meals chosen from an expansive menu arrive each night. This eliminated any deviations likely to occur if left to my own devices – or when I was particularly busy.

Because normal life continued – work dinners, a funeral, a 60th birthday party and a holiday were all in the diary – and I had to stick to my protein party as much as possible. I became obsessed with cottage cheese for breakfast (so good with black pepper, tomatoes and spring onions); hard-boiled eggs nicked from breakfast buffets on holiday became lunch; packets of mackerel were piled high in the fridge.

Was I perfect? No. But I was 85 percent perfect. I grabbed handfuls of nuts (not on the food list); I dived into the Umm Ali pudding in Oman every night of my holiday; and I often stuck a spoon in my Pip & Nut peanut butter jar. But that was about the extent of it. There was always the threat of the next weigh-in to make me close it again. Besides, within the first three weeks I’d dropped almost five kilos so things were working out as they were supposed to. I was ecstatic.

What About The Training?

The physical part of the programme, which shapes, hones and sculpts you as you drop weight, comprised three hours a week with a personal trainer, purely weight training. I was expected to get in my daily 10,000 steps (I didn’t achieve that every day) and a cardio session in my own time. Movement is critical for keeping energy expenditure high beyond the workouts, as well as improving blood flow, delivering oxygen and nutrients to muscles, aiding recovery and reducing soreness.

Curiously, after a few weeks, I put on my running shoes again after a ten-year hiatus. I’d resigned myself to the fact that those days were well and truly over, but apparently not. Other things kept changing too… and for the better. My skin felt softer (better sleep? More hydration?), and niggles like the chronic athlete’s foot on my left little toe disappeared. A concave curve was beginning to form on the inside of my thighs, my boobs shrunk (no bad thing), and my bum didn’t look half bad in a pair of Paige jeans bought from Vinted a size smaller.

Lucy’s fitness journey was intense and demanding – but totally worth it. © Emily Krouse

For anyone interested in ageing well, weight training is critical – especially for women. Yet it’s only relatively recently that the spotlight has fallen on the dumbbells. ‘Women have been sold a disservice,’ said Abbie, Roar’s insanely toned COO. ‘We were told weight training was not for us, that we’d get bulky. But done right, you get lean and strong. It’s incredibly empowering.’ Hell, yeah. It tackles the key challenges of midlife: muscle and bone mass loss, slowing metabolism and increased risk of chronic disease. It also improves joint health, balance and overall strength (you’ll be striding up every Tube escalator with ease), supports better blood sugar control (goodbye 4pm sugar snack), helps balance hormones and gives you a natural endorphin boost – meaning you’re just happier. Walking along, sometimes I noticed how good I was feeling: how energised, how light, how strong.

Despite it being dark-lit, black-walled and full of bulky (some very) male trainers, the gym on Kensington High Street has incredible female energy – no doubt due to the fact that it’s run by women. The founder Sarah Lindsay is a three-time Olympian in short‑track speed skating. Most of the clients at this branch (there are two others) are middle-aged women like me and the locker room chat was as far from lads’ banter as it gets. They shared stories about finally putting themselves first after years of child-rearing or husband-caring, or carving out time amid intense jobs. They were finding their strength – inner and outer – through weights. Like me, they were emotional and grateful as changes took place. I’d never have thought I would feel at home somewhere as alien as a gym, but not once was it a chore to swing through the door. Not once did I feel like jacking it in or skipping a class.

Sessions with Alex, one of their most experienced trainers, were somehow – dare I say it – fun (but don’t tell him that), even as I swore, grimaced and huffed my way through the sets of paired exercises to work opposing muscle sets. I tried to focus on spots on the wall or ceiling as I heaved, pushed, pulled and lifted, but the amazing thing is that you can pretty much do anything ten times. There was always an end point in sight – although Alex would often shove some extra kilos on or go for the extra reps, just to keep me on my toes – and, most importantly, progressing.

From starting on a shoulder press weight of 7.5kg, he had me lifting 20kg within 12 weeks (the equivalent of lifting my 11-year-old son). From walking lunges with 5kg weights, I went to 15kg in each hand. He even got me doing a couple of the mighty pull-ups (lifting your own bodyweight) by the end – though with a slight jump on the first one. Throughout, he was supportive, funny, kind and a listening ear, because the sessions allowed me to bring up all the insecure, weight-related, female angst – as well as other worldly worries – that it’s good to get off your chest.

Lucy with Alex, personal trainer at Roar Fitness. © Emily Krouse

The Final Results

They were pretty staggering – and noticed by one of Roar’s better-known clients. In my ninth week, James Haskell, the former Rugby Union player turned podcaster and DJ, looked up from the lat pulldown machine and said, ‘Oi, Shreddy Krueger, you’re ripped.’

He was right. By the end of my 12 weeks I had dropped 10kg, and my measurements were an impressive curve downwards; tummy fat had gone from 38mm to 7.6mm; chest from 18.4mm to 6.2mm. I almost couldn’t recognise myself in the ‘after’ photos which I hastily WhatsApped to my closest friends to gasps of ‘OMG’ and ‘WTF’. What really got me though was how simple it was in a world where food and fitness has got so horrendously complicated. Cut down your calories, don’t eat crap, don’t drink too much, sleep more, move more and weight train. And then you might get arms that prompt your husband to say, ‘You’ve turned into Lara Croft’. Aged 49 and 11/12ths, you can’t get much cooler than that.

The three-month Roar Transformation programme costs from £4,874. Enquire here: roar-fitness.com/body-transformations