24/02/2026
I’ll never stop training.
Movement has been a constant in my life, beginning with rugby at eight and mountain biking at twelve. As a teenager, I boxed for a few years, not because I wanted to fight, but because I wanted to be stronger and fitter on the bike. Around the same time, I trained in the gym with my dad, lifting weights for function rather than aesthetics. It was never about how I looked; it was about what I could do.
At nineteen, I joined my first K*k Sool class, a decision that quietly reshaped the direction of my life. A year later, I learned to snowboard and have been heading to the French Alps ever since. In my early twenties, I taught myself breakdancing and explored acrobatics. At twenty-five, I pursued the slightly unconventional dream of becoming a stuntman, which meant levelling up across the board: more martial arts, gymnastics, trampoline, high diving, scuba diving, horse riding and swimming. None of it was random. It was all connected. It was all training.
Fifteen years ago, I qualified as a Sports Therapist, largely because I wanted to better understand my own mobility limitations. I was curious about why certain movements felt restricted and how I could improve them. That decision didn’t just help me move better; it transformed the way I train and teach. By understanding biomechanics and longevity, I was able to refine how I move, and in many ways I move better now in my forties than I did in my twenties. Exposure to multiple sports and learning to train intelligently has kept me progressing rather than declining.
Looking back, a clear thread emerges: I’ve never really stopped being a beginner.
Now, after over 26 years in K*k Sool, I see how easy it is to stagnate. Some reach black belt and drift away. Others continue attending but repeat the same version of themselves year after year. What keeps me engaged is the depth of the art. A technique I thought I’d mastered feels different. A form reveals something I’d previously missed. Sparring exposes blind spots. If you stay curious and train smart, it doesn’t run dry.
Training isn’t something I squeeze into my life; it shapes it. It influences how I handle pressure, how I teach, how I parent and how I think. For some people, sport is a chapter. For me, it’s the whole book. If you’ve stepped away from training but still feel that quiet pull back towards it, pay attention. It’s rarely just about fitness. It’s about reconnecting with the part of you that values growth.
I started at eight years old, and I’m not finished yet.