12 minute athlete
By Krista Stryker
Growing up, I thought the exercise gene had “skipped” me.
I come from a fairly active family—my dad, who is currently seventy years old, has always been the most active person I know. He skis, snowboards, plays basketball, kite boards, stand-up paddle boards, mountain bikes, and plays pickleball—you name it, he does it.
On the other hand, I played basketball and soccer in junior high and high school, but 99 percent of the time I would have preferred sitting and reading a good book than doing something movement-related. On top of that, I was awkward, uncoordinated, and not very strong. I always had potential in the sports I played, but could never quite reach it. I blame part of that on my lack of confidence (I was a shy, self-conscious kid), and part of that on my total and complete lack of knowledge on how to get strong and fit.
My arms were so weak I could barely even hang from a pull-up bar back then—let alone do an actual pull-up. In those days, if you asked me to do a pull-up, I would have looked at you and said you were crazy—it wasn’t ever going to happen.
My older brother called me “Spaghetti Arms” throughout my teenage years and early twenties.
My arms were so weak I could barely even hang from a pull-up bar back then—let alone do an actual pull-up. In those days, if you asked me to do a pull-up, I would have looked at you and said you were crazy—it wasn’t ever going to happen.
So, it was a pretty unexpected turn in my life when I decided to get my personal training certification. At the time, I was living in Amsterdam with my husband, Brian, and I still wasn’t very strong. I had managed to lose most of the freshman fifteen that I had gained in college, but a pull-up, L-sit, or even a few solid push-ups with good form was still out of the question for me. I diligently ran my three miles, three times a week (something
I would never, ever do now because I equate slow running with torture), and experimented a little with lifting weights. But if you asked me to do a full push-up, a pistol squat, or even a bridge? I thought there was no way I’d be able to do it. I thought only freaks of nature could do those things, real athletes, and genetically gifted people who didn’t happen to have long arms and an innate awkwardness.