All in, again

Early 20s

One night, in a drunken haze, I stepped on the scales in someone’s bathroom at a house party and was appalled at the number staring back at me. My immediate thought was that I had to do something — and quickly — to get back to a point where I felt good about my body again.

For context, in my late teens I went through an incredibly self-destructive phase of heavy drug use that resulted in extreme weight loss. So seeing the scales show almost 25kg more than they had a few years prior was confronting.

So, off to the local gym I went.

My mission to “get hot” involved changing absolutely nothing about the rest of my lifestyle, aside from attending personal training sessions. While I did notice some physical changes from what I was doing in the gym, I’d really only uncovered the tip of the iceberg.

As long as I could fit into what I wanted to wear on a night out, and didn’t struggle to find people to date, I was content.

Late 20s

Fast forward a few years — I’d moved countries, and my gym habit had fallen completely to the wayside. My focus shifted to settling into a new home, making friends, and, essentially, trying to keep my party lifestyle alive.

Turns out, that was harder than expected.

Cue another “ick” moment with myself, and I found my way back into the gym — this time adding in regular bootcamps and running.

This time, it stuck.

Without the distraction of a big social circle, I think this was the first time I genuinely fell in love with the feeling of training. Unfortunately, new influences combined with my tendency to go all-in meant this phase was still heavily focused on how I looked and how much weight I could lose.

I cycled through fad diets, regularly restricting food, which inevitably led to binge eating and a pretty disordered relationship with both food and exercise.

Mid 30s

In 2018, I found Olympic weightlifting, and from my first competition, I was all in.

For the first time, how I looked wasn’t the focus — I just wanted to be as strong as possible, specifically in the snatch and clean & jerk. But what started as a shift away from aesthetics became an incredibly narrow fixation. Alongside my training, I worked with multiple nutritionists to optimise my diet and do everything I could to move the needle in the direction that I wanted.

And it absolutely fucked with me.

If you’re sensing a pattern of tying achievement to self-worth, you’d be correct — and this was where it peaked. My anxiety around performance grew with every competition, becoming more and more overwhelming.

My final weightlifting competition in Finland in 2024 was the worst I’ve ever felt mentally. That moment became a turning point.

Why was I putting myself through something that felt so far removed from enjoyment?

Once again, injury forced me to stop, reassess, and ask what I actually wanted from all of this.

Late 30s

One of the most important lessons I learned through this previous phase was that it’s our response to events that shapes the outcome.

After surgery in early 2025, I made the decision to try something completely different — a new sport, a fresh start, a chance to be a beginner again.

This time, the focus shifted.

Not just on being strong, but on actually enjoying what I was doing.

As I worked my way back toward competition in a whole new sport, that had to be the priority. With an awareness of my tendency toward fixation and burnout, I approached this phase more cautiously — checking in with myself regularly about how I was feeling, and why I was doing what I was doing.

40s

And now, here we are.

Entering a new phase, with the same intention.

Right now, I genuinely love my training — and how I feel when I compete. Whilst I now have multiple training focuses as I continue to develop skills in two strength sports, it genuinely feels pretty fucking joyful.

For me, training is still about pushing myself, breaking through barriers, and having something to strive for. But that external focus doesn’t define me anymore — it supports me.

I still want to get stronger.
I still want to improve.
That part of me isn’t going anywhere.

But it’s no longer coming from a place of trying to fix myself.

It’s not punishment.
It’s not control.
It’s not me trying to outrun who I am.

For the first time, it’s coming from a place of enjoyment.

Of curiosity.
Of challenge.

And after years of swinging between obsession and burnout… that feels like the biggest win of all.