Samira Alhazmi

As I trudged along on the treadmill, the frustration within me grew. It wasn’t just the burn in my calves or the sweat trickling down my back—after a week at this fitness club in Jeddah, Saudi-Arabia, my body was still adjusting to the sudden change. My doctor had practically ordered me here, warning of looming cardiovascular risks. At 51, and with a history of high blood pressure, I knew the consequences. Yet I’d put off exercise for years, caught in a lifestyle that left little space for it.

Just to register, I had to seek my husband’s approval, a reminder of how unusual it still is here for women to engage in sports. Fitness clubs for women are still rare, and seeing the others in the gym made me realize how few of us there are. The younger women seemed to belong here, moving confidently, while those closer to my age, like me, were cautious, almost tentative. We all had our reasons, but for each of us, this place felt like a small, hard-won escape.

Losing weight is my goal, yes, but there’s more to it than that. For the first time in years, I have a space away from home duties, from my children, and from the endless, heavy foods that led me here in the first place. I miss the energy I once had, and maybe, just maybe, I can reclaim some of it.

Society here is changing, slowly, but never quickly enough. Today, as I found a rhythm on the treadmill, I couldn’t help but think how much our health, our very lives, are shaped by decisions we didn’t make. How many women here in Jeddah, in Saudi Arabia as a whole, are weighed down by these silent, relentless limits? We pay the price in our bodies, with our health, and it’s long past time for us to choose.