The Personal Training

I believe the online programme with The Fibro Guy, which I discussed in my last post, was what truly kickstarted my fitness journey. Though my footballing days feel like a lifetime ago, there was a time when I genuinely loved exercise. I was optimistic that I could fall in love with it again - on the condition that my aches and pains behaved themselves.

Not long after the end of my eight-year relationship, I realised I had to step up and take responsibility for my health and wellbeing. I could no longer rely on somebody else to help me if my pain worsened, and honestly, I wanted better for myself – I deserved better.

I asked a few friends if they could recommend a good personal trainer. I was very aware that this wasn’t going to be easy and that I would need some guidance. No judgement to the coaches who have done a three-day online course, but with all of my health complications, I needed someone with more than just a PDF certificate and a protein shaker. One of my friends suggested a guy called Stu Mac who was based in Glasgow. I had a quick glance at his Instagram profile, and immediately felt out of my depth. This man had trained Olympic athletes. I thought, surely, he would laugh if little old me turned up, barely able to hold a hairdryer above my head. But I was wrong.

I sent a quick enquiry, outlining my ailments and goals as best as I could. Not long after, we arranged a video consultation. I still remember it clearly – one of those cold, dark Sunday evenings in January 2021. I was admittedly pretty nervous. I don’t just mean the “meeting someone new” kind of nervous, but the “am I about to waste my time and energy again?” kind. I had been through so many false starts before, and part of me was concerned this would be yet another one.

To my surprise, something about Stu’s approach felt different. He listened – really listened. He was already familiar with the hypermobility type of Ehler’s Danlos Syndrome and fibromyalgia, but he didn’t stop there. Stu took the time to do additional research to properly understand my boundaries and limitations. That level of care and effort immediately stood out, and for the first time in a long time, I felt hopeful that this might actually be worth a shot.

Stu told me he was starting an eight-week fitness programme the very next day, and conveniently, he had one space available. He explained that I’d be receiving the same personal training service, but at a discounted rate. There was no time to overanalyse, procrastinate, and then inevitably act like a shitebag and back out. So, I jumped in the deep end without so much as a second thought.

For a lot of clients who hire a personal trainer, the main goal is fat loss - but that was never a priority for me. I explained to Stu that I’d previously been underweight, and I was finally enjoying food again. I had no intentions of being extremely restrictive and living off boiled chicken, broccoli and sadness. So, we compromised: I would loosely stick to a calorie target, while focusing on hitting my macros - particularly protein. The main goal, after all, was strength and conditioning for pain management.

On my first day of the programme, Stu set all of the clients a challenge. I had to time how long it took me to complete the following:

• 100 squats

• 100 press ups

• 100 butterfly-sit ups (Google if you’re curious – ironically, nowhere near as graceful or delicate as the name suggests)

• And burn 100 calories on the exercise bike.

One word comes to mind when I look back on that now: hell. My lord, I was in the absolute pits of hell trying to get through it. I’m much fitter now than I was back then, and honestly? I think it would still be torturous now. The same workout was repeated at the end of the eight weeks, which meant I could properly measure my progress – and for once, actually see how far I’d come. Spoiler: I shaved off a full 13 minutes.

The pandemic was still in full swing, with no signs of gyms reopening any time soon. I had a pair of little 2kg dumbbells and a few resistance bands kicking around, so that’s what I started with – briefly. I outgrew them faster than expected. (I know exactly what you’re thinking: outgrowing 2kg dumbbells – what an absolute unit.) From there, the rest of the programme was all about getting creative. I can recall doing wall sits against random walls in the house, looping resistance bands around door handles, and finding every possible way to make use of adjustable dumbbells.

Despite the DIY set-up at home, the training itself was anything but basic. Stu tailored every part of the programme to my needs, making sure I was moving well, not just simply moving. He considered my bendy joints, dodgy connective tissue, and tendency to injure myself simply by sneezing too hard. I also sent over videos of my workouts so that he could check my form and make sure I wasn’t unknowingly hyperextending my joints. The feeling of support and safety I experienced was one I hadn’t been familiar with on this journey so far.

Of course, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Having a chronic pain condition means you are constantly navigating a minefield of mental challenges - self-doubt being one of the biggest. There is what seems like a never-ending tug-of-war going on internally: am I pushing myself just enough to grow, or am I going to do more harm than good? That constant mental balancing act is absolutely exhausting.

Over time, I learned to celebrate the small wins – those little milestones that might seem insignificant to others, but meant everything to me. Often, yes, it is important to push through the discomfort. But other times, the smartest thing you can do is listen to your body and rest. Figuring out which is which is not easy. I still get it wrong from time to time. However, that awareness comes from years of trial, error, and becoming incredibly in tune with my body’s signals.

To try and make sense of it all, I journaled my thoughts, questioned the beliefs that were holding me back, and leaned on the people closest to me. I vividly remember breaking down in tears early in the programme, convinced that I couldn’t do it – I wasn’t strong enough; I had pushed myself beyond my limit. Deep down, I knew these were just spiralling thoughts, not facts. And, with some gentle encouragement and a few pep talks, I was reminded that I was capable. I just needed to get back on track and keep going.

By the end of the eight-week programme, I became visibly leaner and my ‘baby gains’ were starting to pop out. I was shocked at how much my body composition had changed in such a short space of time - but even more surprised by how much my pain had improved. I had fallen back in love with exercising, and I didn’t want it to end.

So, it didn’t.

After the programme finished, I became one of Stu’s regular online clients. He created a brand-new training plan for me, this time geared towards the gym as restrictions were finally easing. We also managed to squeeze in a few in-person sessions, which really helped fine-tune things and gave me a much-needed confidence boost. I felt like I was finally able to train safely without feeling like I was made of glass.

This continued for around a year – a whole year of showing up, building strength, and proving to myself what my body was actually capable of. I had always dreamed of going travelling, but I didn’t think I’d be in good enough condition to make it a reality. And yet, I felt so strong, confident, and capable that I ended up quitting my job, packing a backpack, and boarding a one-way flight to Sri Lanka all on my own. These are words I never imagined I’d be writing.

Throughout my journey, it often felt like I was taking two steps forward and three steps back. That’s the thing about recovery: it’s never linear, and that can be unbelievably frustrating when you’re trying your best. Learning to celebrate the small wins, listening to my body, and recognising when to push and when to pause became essential. It’s not easy – but it is possible. With time, patience, and a whole lot of self-compassion, I learned to trust the process, even when the path wasn’t clear. That’s what kept me moving forward.

As always, thanks for reading ☺️

Much love,

Kirsten xox