After an abusive relationship, the death of her father, and a running injury that left her limping, Casey Johnston was unmoored, alone, and burned out. Then she stumbled on a viral blog post about one woman's experience lifting heavy weights—no dieting, no cardio, no weight loss, and no shame or guilt. With zero experience and nothing left to lose, Casey took a deep breath and stepped into Brooklyn's grungiest gym. Then she began to question how she had treated her body, and what that treatment meant.
Johnston stands out for her attunement to the needs and anxieties of true beginners ... Johnston’s assertion that lifting 'completely changed how I think and feel about the world and myself and everything' sounds like another of the fitness industry’s wild overpromises. But I know what she means ... Weight lifting has stuck, for me and I think for Johnston, because it can also change the way one thinks about achievement. It serves as a pretty good metaphor for a balanced approach to striving that eschews both the Lean In–girlboss hustle and its 'I don’t dream of labor' anti-ambition backlash.
Reads as nothing short of a revelation ... There is...something misaligned about the plotted awakening that Johnston charts in her book, whose plain sentences conform to the recognizable beats of 'before' and 'after.'
Gripping ... Johnston’s prose slips down like a juicy post-workout burger ... The book is blessedly free of the pieties that can make American liberals so infuriating ... Johnston represent[s] a powerful shift in body standards for women.
