I am an overweight, middle-aged, mum of four. Exercise has always been something I endured rather than enjoyed – and certainly never stuck to. Add in a severely underactive thyroid (currently operating like a pensioner chasing a bus in flip-flops), and the odds of getting leaner, faster or stronger were never exactly on my side. the symptoms of weight gain, constant tiredness and slow movements don’t exactly scream “future black belt.”
I’m a solid size 20. Let’s not ignore the obvious – I literally am the elephant in the room.
For years I’ve sat through every class and every kickboxing grading, watching the remarkable transformations in my children. I saw my shy, wispy nine-year-old daughter step into this noisy, adult-filled kickboxing class and emerge as the graceful, confident and astonishing young woman she has become. I watched my scared, angry and withdrawn son find himself in the camaraderie and discipline of kickboxing, developing real skill and ability, and discovering strength and resilience he didn’t know he had. I saw how tough it was, how demanding it was, and the sheer grit it took just to keep showing up.
Kickboxing, then, was clearly not for me.
Eventually, I did it out of spite. My then-teens kept skipping the Zoom classes during lockdown, and while angrily berating them for sitting on their arses at the computer all day, I realised I was, in fact, just sitting on my arse at my computer all day…
So we made a deal – they HAD to do every Zoom class if I did it too.
They literally laughed in my face. But they agreed.
I had, to be fair, forgotten just how much basic PT was involved. Never mind the punching and kicking, there were burpees (just no), sit ups (laughable) and press ups (not one). Throughout my first class I thought I might actually die. Pretty sure I DID wet myself.
The next day I could barely walk.
But I had to show up for the next one.
And I just kept showing up.
When classes resumed in person, I was ridiculously nervous… I am clearly NOT ‘built for kickboxing’. But a sideways reassuring grin and a quiet hand squeeze from my daughter got me out of the car, and a gentle shove in the back from my son got me moving forwards. And from that moment on I have received nothing but encouragement and acceptance.
The gradings
I made it clear I was categorically NEVER going to grade for a belt though. The very idea was ridiculous. I just enjoyed sharing something with my kids. It genuinely made me happy (except burpees. They still make my soul sad).
Then my daughter talked me into ‘just one’ grading … and to my surprise, I did it.
Of course, at this point it’s all ‘no contact’, and I was adamant I’d never actually hit anyone.
A couple of gradings later, upper body sparring showed up in the syllabus – and, to my even greater surprise, I found myself hitting people. Turns out, I quite enjoy it …
Six months passed with a couple more gradings and suddenly my new syllabus included jumping kicks. I realised I was now, in fact, done. This was my limit.
I am NOT built for jumping kicks.
And then I did them.
As always, I simply started by doing them very badly, threw myself at it and worked hard at being better.
Unlearning a childhood
Growing up, I learned early on to shrink myself, to disappear into the background where it felt safer. My childhood taught me that life was easier when I prioritised the happiness of others, quietly accepting my place was firmly at the bottom of every list. I learned to tread carefully, to avoid being noticed, because attention often carried consequences that were too heavy for a child to bear. And yet, deep down, I still longed for recognition, for validation.
I was always confident in my own brain – sure of my intellect and my ability to think and achieve. But my body was another story entirely. For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt disconnected from it: weak, clumsy and awkward, it was something to apologise for rather than take pride in.
Kickboxing has changed that. I began to find a belief in my right to take up space, to exist boldly and unapologetically. Kickboxing has taught me that I am not only strong, but that I deserve to be seen, heard and accepted for exactly who I am. It has shown me that my body is not a burden, but a source of strength. It has taught me to move with purpose, to stand tall and to believe in my own physical power in a way I never thought possible.
None of my personal challenges define me. We all have pieces of the past that we carry – but kickboxing has helped me reshape them. In December, aged 50, I earned my black belt.
Over the last four years, it has taught me some things far greater than the ability to do a spinning hook kick:
- Just start, even if it’s messy:
My first attempts at new moves were often laughably bad – my brain’s instructions and my limbs seemed to speak entirely different languages. But it didn’t matter. Starting was what counted, and the giggles in class just made it more fun. Fear of failure used to hold me back and make me hesitate, but now I’ve learned that the only way forward is to begin, knowing I’ll improve as I go. - Keep showing up:
There were days when my body ached, when everything felt too hard, and when progress seemed painfully slow. But I kept coming back, and bit by bit, I got better. Consistency isn’t glamorous, but it works. - Lean on your people:
There were countless moments when I felt too old, too unfit, too slow. Yet, every single time, the encouragement and acceptance of the SOUL family pulled me through. The people around me believed in me even when I didn’t, and that made all the difference. - Push your boundaries:
Time and again, I’ve discovered I’m capable of more than I thought. Remembering combinations? Jumping kicks? Sparring? I never imagined I could do these things, but here I am. It turns out the limits I thought I had were (and are) just lines waiting to be redrawn.
I’m so thankful I let spite push me into those lockdown Zoom lessons – and that I found the courage to step onto that sports field for my first in-person class.
I have never felt so old. So tired. So unfit. Kickboxing has laid bare every ache, every moment of clumsiness and the heaviness in my step, leaving me feeling slow, tired … and anything but graceful and agile.
But it has also made me feel stronger, more capable, more powerful than I ever imagined.
Kickboxing has shown me that strength isn’t just physical – it’s in the persistence to keep going and the courage to challenge myself. That it is my core strength which holds me together and keeps me balanced.
And not just when I’m kickboxing.
