I've spent over 14 years at the sharp end of elite sport. Three Paralympic Games, supporting multiple international athletes to medal success — people who weren't supposed to perform again, who did. I've lived and breathed what it takes to optimise the human body under pressure.
But knowing all of that didn't protect me from losing trust in my own body completely.
When I became a mum to two young boys, something shifted. My mental health took a hit. My confidence quietly disappeared. The activities that had always grounded me felt completely out of reach. And the strange part? The tools that had previously got me through a bad day now pushed me further into overwhelm, anxiety about what the future held, and concern about how I would ever find my way back to myself.
Not the kind with a programme or a goal or a Personal Best to chase. Just slow, curious, intentional movement — the kind that lets your nervous system breathe again. The more I showed up for my body, the more my motivation returned. And eventually, my ambition, my confidence, and my sense of who I am came back with it.
That journey completely changed how I work with people. I now blend the rigour of sports science with the wisdom of ancient movement practices — and a genuine curiosity about what your body is capable of when you stop fighting it and start listening.
Because the body works beautifully when we create the right conditions for it.
