When I started going to the gym, I thought I was chasing strength and to lose weight. To have stronger arms, better endurance and a body that could do more and one I felt more confident with. But as I come to the end of this series, I realise I wasn’t only building muscle. I was building something much harder to measure. Belief, confidence, and ownership and a sense of belonging in spaces I once felt excluded from. This is the final post in this current series - a pause at th

As this series has grown, I’ve shared a lot about mindset, confidence, representation, accessible equipment, and the reality of showing up as a powered wheelchair user in the gym. But for today’s post, I wanted to get really practical because sometimes it’s not the big things that make gym life easier, it’s the small adjustments. The little hacks you learn through experience. The things that help a session run smoother, feel safer, and become more enjoyable. Over the last few

In the last post, I talked about visibility, what it means to be a powered wheelchair user in a gym space, and why representation matters. However, visibility alone isn’t enough. Being seen in a gym doesn’t automatically mean being supported. Accessibility isn’t just about ramps and wide doors, it’s about whether you can actually train  once you’re inside and about equipment, layout, staff knowledge, and whether disabled people are considered part of the gym community, not an

When I started going to the gym, I thought the hardest part would be the physical side: learning exercises, adapting equipment, building strength but one of the biggest things I’ve had to navigate is something much less talked about: Being seen. This is because when you’re a powered wheelchair user in a gym, you don’t exactly blend into the background. You’re instantly visible whether you want to be or not and that visibility comes with a whole mix of emotions. The Reality of

Not every gym session feels empowering. Not every week feels productive and not every day starts with motivation. That’s something I wish I’d heard more when I first started going to the gym. So far in this series, I’ve shared the wins, the adaptations, the confidence that’s slowly building — but this post is about the other side of the journey; the days when my energy is low, the days when my confidence dips and days when just getting through the gym doors feels like an achi

When I first started going to the gym, I thought the biggest challenge would be the equipment. The weights. The logistics. The physical side of things. What I didn’t expect was that the real work would be learning how to take up space. Not just physically, though that part matters, but emotionally, socially, and confidently as a powered wheelchair user in a world that often tries to make disabled people smaller, quieter, and less visible. This gym journey has been about so mu

When people talk about fitness progress, the conversation usually jumps straight to transformations. Before and after photos. Inches lost. Personal bests. Visible changes. Dramatic reveals. But here’s the truth: my journey as a powered wheelchair user in the gym doesn’t look like that and it doesn’t need to. My progress isn’t loud. It doesn’t always show up in the mirror or on a scale. Sometimes it’s so subtle I almost miss it until one day I realise something that used to fe

So far in this short series, I’ve talked about why  I train and how  I train. But there’s another part of gym life that doesn’t get talked about enough; what it’s actually like to exist in that space as a powered wheelchair user. Because going to the gym isn’t just about exercises and equipment. It’s about navigating layouts, assumptions, unspoken rules, and the occasional moment where you think, “Was this room designed by someone who’s never met a wheelchair?” This post is a

After sharing the start of my journey, I wanted this next post to get practical. One of the biggest barriers I faced when first going to the gym was simply not knowing where to start. Most workout plans assume you can stand, stabilise your lower body, or hop between machines without thinking. That wasn’t my reality, or the reality of many powered or manual wheelchair users and trying to follow those plans left me feeling more frustrated than motivated. But over time and with

If you’ve ever entered a gym in a wheelchair, you’ll know exactly how many eyes suddenly discover you’re the most interesting thing in the room. It’s like people can’t decide whether they want to help, stare, or pretend they didn’t almost trip over their own feet trying to make space. For a long time, that alone was enough to keep me out of the gym. Fitness spaces often feel designed for just one type of body and mine wasn’t it. But eventually, the desire to get stronger outw