At 70, I Finally Found an Exercise I Love

This low-impact movement makes a huge impact on my life.

By

Linda Yellin

 
Published January 29, 2026
Stocksy

Let’s just say it: I’m not athletic. Not now. Not in the past. Won’t be in the future. Growing up, my dad occasionally golfed. My mother’s sport was cooking. My only encouragement toward physical activity was: “Go out and play.”

I wanted to do cartwheels and splits like the school cheerleaders, or be Joy Derdiger, the girl in gym class who could climb the ropes and touch the rafters. Watching her scurry upward, she seemed otherworldly, an alien species from mine. But my cartwheels were clumsy and I could barely hold onto those ropes. Coordination just isn’t in my gene pool. The last time anyone in my family got any real exercise was when my grandparents ran from the Russian pogroms.

I was 26, in 1977, when Jim Fixx’s The Complete Book of Running became a mega bestseller. Like everyone else, I felt compelled to buy a pair of running shoes. Out I’d go, huffing away, clutching my Walkman in my hand while listening to Fleetwood Mac singing Don’t Stop.

I liked that running was an individual sport — just me. Nobody would get angry if I missed a throw or failed to swing a bat, but I never loved it. I’ll rephrase that: I hated it. My favorite part was when each run was over; those running shoes ended up in the back of my closet. For a while, I felt guilty that I’d bailed on something so good for me, until 1984, when 52-year-old Jim Fixx died of a heart attack while running.

My friend Lorra was the one who convinced me to join a health club. She said weight rooms were the perfect place to meet men. Bonus: They’d be men in good shape!

Turns out, sweaty and grunting wasn’t my type, but counting out my reps and sets, I was amazed to watch my skinny upper arms develop walnut-sized muscles that soon became little avocado-sized muscles. I’d show them off to anyone who asked and plenty of people who didn’t ask. Check out this bicep! But after a couple years I realized I was no Arnold Schwarzenegger, about to star in Pumping Iron. Despite my efforts, my muscles never got beyond avocados.

After that came my yoga period. Oh, those downward dogs and pigeons. Mine were never impressive, but as the teachers were constantly reminding us, I was on my own journey. I just wished my journey was more graceful. My best yoga move was savasana, the last position of any session; that’s when you get to lie on your mat like a corpse.

I spent the next decades jumping back and forth between weightlifting and yoga, knowing myself well enough to say an immediate no to step aerobics, Zumba, or hot yoga. Regular temperature yoga was hard enough.

Then I turned 70 and my focus changed. The younger me was hoping to improve my body; now I was just hoping to keep it from getting worse.

For years I’d been walking past Pilates studios without asking myself: What’s that all about? It wasn’t until my friend Jackie needed to schedule a lunch around her Pilates schedule that I finally learned the scoop, taking note of the fact that Jackie is one of the most agile, energetic humans I know. Jackie is 94 years old.

A super short history lesson: Joseph Pilates was a former boxer and bodybuilder working with injured soldiers during World War 1. He developed a system using bed springs and pulleys to help the soldiers exercise while confined to bed. The modern-day Reformer with its rolling platform, shoulder blocks, and straps (it’s as crazy looking as it sounds) evolved out of Joseph Pilates’ bed springs and pulleys.

Pilates is low impact, which means it’s easy on your joints. Knees are grateful. It builds core strength, helps with alignment and balance. Many of the instructors have backgrounds in dance. There are two ways to do Pilates: the Reformer or on a mat. I like the Reformer, the method that’s closest to lying in bed.

By now, my instructors at the studio are all aware that my body parts often move in the wrong direction; I’ll inhale when I should be exhaling; and if balancing on a Basu ball, I can out-wobble anyone. Their patience with me is beyond holistic.

Am I good at Pilates? No. I’m everything I’ve ever been at any athletic endeavor. High on hope and low on dignity. The big difference now: I’m enthusiastic! Maybe it’s because the movements keep moving; if something’s not a favorite, no problem — it’ll be over in three minutes. There’s as much stretching as there is straining and those stretches feel good, like getting a massage while getting a workout. And maybe I’m kidding myself, but my posture is…taller. Nothing giraffe-like but straighter and more upright.

It’s taken fifty years, but, yes, I’ve finally found an athletic activity I want to do. I sign up for sessions at least two or three times a week. Hallie at the front desk knows me so well that I’m expecting her to invite me for Easter.

My one regret is that I didn’t try Pilates sooner. Who knows what I’d be capable of by now? Maybe I’d be climbing ropes and reaching for the rafters. For now, I’m grateful that it keeps me going — and maybe even feeling the slightest bit athletic.

Linda Yellin is the author of Such A Lovely Couple about her first marriage and The Last Blind Date about her second marriage. No new husbands were involved in the writing of her novel, What Nora Knew.