From Struggle to Strength: My Fitness Journey

I never fit in. As a kid, I was overweight, quiet, and unsure of myself. School wasn't a place of comfort—it was where I got picked on, where I felt like I didn't belong. I had no real passion, no direction, and no idea where I was headed. I floated through life without ever finding something I could call my own.

Then COVID happened. Everything stopped, and for the first time, there were no distractions—just me, trapped with my thoughts. I made a decision, one that I thought would change my life for the better. I wasn't going to attend online classes. Instead, I was going to focus on losing weight. But I didn't do it in a healthy way. I became obsessed. I slashed my calories to dangerously low levels and forced myself to cycle for hours every single day, convinced that if I just lost the weight, I'd finally be happy. And it worked. Physically, I changed. The fat melted away. But inside? I was the unhappiest I had ever been. My body was screaming for fuel, my hormones were all over the place, and my mood was unbearable. I was constantly exhausted, angry, and withdrawn. The people around me—my family, my friends—paid the price. I wasn't just hungry; I was starving, both physically and mentally. I had lost weight, but I had also lost myself.

Coming out of lockdown, I knew I couldn't carry on like this. I had pushed my body to its limits, but for what? I still didn't feel good enough. I still didn't feel like I belonged anywhere. That's when the gym entered my life. My dad and uncle had always been involved in fitness, and for the first time, I wanted to give it a go—not as a way to punish myself, but as a way to rebuild. I started training, fueling my body properly, and lifting weights. The physical changes were one thing, but the mental shift was something else entirely. For the first time, I felt strong. I felt capable. And most importantly, I felt in control—not in the obsessive way I had before, but in a way that made me feel alive. It wasn't just about looking better. It was about proving to myself that I wasn't weak. That I could do something incredible. That feeling was addictive, and I knew I wanted to help others experience it too. I dropped out of sixth form to become a personal trainer. A year later, I had my qualifications, and I threw myself into coaching, helping people change their lives the way I had changed mine. But something was missing.

I loved coaching, but over time, I felt like I was just going through the motions. I had found my strength, but I had lost my spark. I needed something to challenge me again—to push me in ways I hadn't been pushed before. Then, by chance, I volunteered at a work event. It was a CrossFit competition, and on a whim, I decided to compete. I came dead last. But for the first time in a long time, I felt something I hadn't felt before—pure, unfiltered excitement. It wasn't just about winning. It was about the pain, the difficulty, the sheer mental battle of pushing through when my body was screaming at me to stop. And the best part? No matter how tough it got, everyone there had my back. The support, the community, the energy—it was something I had never experienced before. That day changed everything. I threw myself into CrossFit, training harder, getting stronger, pushing my limits. And then, as I immersed myself deeper into the sport, I noticed something else gaining traction—Hyrox. A hybrid endurance event that blended everything I loved: strength, conditioning, and mental grit. It was calling my name. In 2022, I booked my first Hyrox event—Madrid Doubles. My manager and I went as part of a small group, and to put it bluntly, our time was terrible. But none of that mattered. The moment I stepped onto that competition floor, I knew. The energy, the crowd, the challenge—it was on another level. The pain, the exhaustion, the mental battle of pushing past my limits—it was everything I had been looking for. Hyrox gave me a new purpose, a new fire, and a new reason to keep pushing myself. From there, I started competing around the world, each event pushing me harder, each failure fueling my next success. I climbed the rankings, trained relentlessly, and kept showing up—again and again. And then, recently, we achieved something incredible: 10th place in Switzerland. For some, it's just a number. But for me? It represents everything. Every struggle, every setback, every moment where I thought I wasn't good enough. It's proof that I am strong. That I do belong. That I'm capable of more than I ever thought possible.

This journey isn't just about me. It's about proving to others that no matter where you start, no matter how lost you feel, no matter how many times you've doubted yourself—you can turn it around. Fitness didn't just change my body. It saved me. It gave me purpose, direction, and a community that I never had before. And now, my mission is simple: to help as many people as possible find that same strength within themselves. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's this: You are so much stronger than you think.