To grasp how I arrived at this moment, I must take you back—not just to the start of my strongman journey, but to the earlier chapters of my life.

Let’s be honest; my childhood was far from pleasant. It was a dark time filled with unhappiness and neglect. I was that kid who showed up at school in worn-out shoes, the soles flapping against the pavement, often causing me to trip or leaving my feet freezing and soaked. My school jumper sleeves barely reached my elbows, frayed and threadbare. My shirts were stained with dirt and had brown rings around the collars. I frequently found myself borrowing clothes from my brothers or friends just to have something clean to wear. My hair was perpetually greasy due to the lack of hot water at home and the absence of encouragement to maintain hygiene or take pride in my appearance. When I started my periods around 9 or 10, I was still in primary school. My mother never provided me with sanitary products, forcing me to improvise with tissues or rely on friends, or worse—steal from stores. Throughout my youth and early adulthood, I was visible, but for all the wrong reasons. Despite being athletic and winning races at school sports days, I was constantly told I resembled a man. There were countless challenges and traumas that shaped my experience, but for now, those details can remain unspoken. So, how did I find my way into strongwoman? After the birth of my eldest daughter in 2008, I found myself gaining weight and lacking direction or purpose beyond motherhood. On Boxing Day that year, I decided it was time for change. I signed up to run the Brighton Marathon with my brother, raising funds for Cystic Fibrosis after his son’s diagnosis. I lost 8 stone and completed the marathon in just over four hours. Crossing that finish line marked the beginning of my true life. I remember thinking, if I could accomplish this, I could achieve anything I set my mind to. I went on to qualify as a personal trainer and fell in love with fitness. I took up rugby, but before my first game, I suffered a severe injury, snapping both my fibula and tibia. My running and rugby days were over. While working at the gym, the guys encouraged me to try deadlifts, and I discovered I had a knack for it—I loved lifting heavy things! The compliments about my strength were exhilarating. I persuaded a group of female clients to join me in a powerlifting competition to satisfy my competitive spirit, and thus began my passion for competing. Training those amazing women was empowering, particularly as we made our presence felt in the weights room and out-lifted some of the guys. For the first time, I inspired others in a great way, a stark contrast to my past where I had led them down less noble paths. Finally creating positive change in people’s lives was a significant accomplishment and a great confidence booster. We relished the powerlifting competition, experiencing both fear and excitement. Soon after, I spotted a strongwoman competition advertisement, and the idea of flipping tires and lifting heavy stones sounded like so much fun to me. Preparing for the competition was unlike anything I had done before; it was exhilarating. I received so many inquiries at the gym about my training, and the admiration from others fuelled my passion even more. I loved that so many were so impressed with what I was doing. Me, I was actually impressing people, and not on my ability to take handfuls of Es and dance non stop for days!

?In my first competition, I placed fourth. I loved every moment and realised this was my calling. The community was fantastic, with crowds cheering my name and praising my strength. Me! The scraggly kid who was once told she’d never amount to anything. I continued to compete, consistently placing in the top ranks. Back then, strongwoman was less popular, and there weren't many female athletes, so as a slim blonde, I received a fair share of attention—some welcomed, some not. Being in the spotlight had its effects. On the positive side, it ignited a fire within me to improve continually. I found a new tribe of like-minded individuals who supported and inspired each other. It brought me purpose and hope. No longer did I hear I looked like a man; now, I was complimented for being athletic and strong. It was often even said “How are you so strong for someone so tiny”. I only weighed 64kg at the time.

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However, the attention had its downsides. Growing up, I envied the popular girls who received attention and material things, equating validation with love and success. So, when I began receiving free gym passes, sponsorships, and interview requests, it felt like a dream come true, especially after winning competitions. I, the dropout, was a winner. This became my identity, defined by victories and accolades. Yet, this identity came with challenges was a very sharp double-edged sword for me. Because I was still also suffering with crippling social anxiety, in some social situations I would either barely say a word as I was so gripped with fear that I physically couldn’t speak as I felt like someone was grabbing my throat and pulling my voice box out, Or I was so overwhelmed with anxiety that my adrenaline was through the roof and I just could not shut up. I had to put myself in the centre of attention because I didn’t want anyone else to put me there. I needed that control. All very common trauma responses.?? This behaviour often led others to perceive me as arrogant or self-absorbed, being “too much” “too blah” “all about me” etc. Which was baffling given how differently I felt inside. It wasn’t until years later, while training to be a counsellor, that I began to understand myself and the complexities of anxiety and the need for validation. ?I then started to understand how severe anxiety and want for validation can be completely misunderstood.? It has given me a massive and valuable insight on how easy it is to judge and how soul destroying it can be, to be so harshly and incorrectly judged.

So, why is strongman so special? Every strongman gym and competition are filled with people cheering you on, offering unwavering support. You can walk into a strongman gym or event as a stranger or by yourself and you will leave with a group of great new friends! Competing isn’t necessary; you can simply train or spectate and be part of the strongest family around. The sport is inclusive, with more disabled strongman competitions emerging, along with growing categories for teens and U21s. Strongman welcomes everyone, regardless of background, age, shape, size, or gender.

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If you have any questions or perhaps you or someone else might be interested in giving a session a go or if you love the idea attending a competition to watch or even enter, please reach out. I would love to see more people get involved in this incredible journey.

?In 11 days I will be competing in day One out of Three in the Worlds Strongest Woman.

Thank you for reading and Stay Strong! ??????

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