Redefining Progress - Why My Fitness Journey Isn’t a Before and After Story

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 feel impossible now feels… normal.

And honestly? That’s where the real magic lives.

Progress Starts Small (So Small You Might Miss It)

If you’d asked me at the start what progress would look like, I probably would’ve listed numbers: heavier weights, more reps, faster cardio.

But the first signs of progress didn’t look like that at all.

They looked like:

• Feeling more stable during exercises

• Needing less support from my armrest

• Recovering quicker between sets

• My posture improving little by little

• Feeling less nervous walking into the gym

None of those are flashy. You can’t photograph “feeling less self-conscious” but it matters. Sometimes the biggest shift happens in your head long before it shows in your muscles.

Strength Doesn’t Always Mean “Heavier”

Yes, I am lifting more weight than when I started. But that’s not the only way strength shows up.

Strength is also:

• Controlling the movement

• Knowing your form

• Feeling your body work together

• Staying consistent

• Showing up even on low-confidence days

As a powered wheelchair user, I rely heavily on my upper body day-to-day so strength for me is deeply functional. It’s not about chasing numbers. It’s about supporting my body, my independence, my health, and my future.

If I can transfer more safely, reach more confidently, or support my posture better? That’s progress I’ll celebrate every time.

There Are Weeks When Progress Is Just… Showing Up

Let’s be honest motivation isn’t always sky-high.

Life happens. Energy dips. Some sessions feel clumsy. Some days I roll into the gym thinking, “I’m not really feeling it today.”

But I show up, helped massively by Claudia, my amazing personal trainer, and by my weekly gym sessions with my brother-in-law James, who somehow manages to make even the tired days feel lighter. Having people in your corner matters.

Some weeks, the biggest win isn’t lifting more it’s just about continuing to go to the gym and that absolutely counts.

Tracking Progress Differently

Traditional fitness tracking tools don’t always suit disabled bodies because our journeys don’t always follow the same patterns.

So instead of obsessing over metrics, I check in with questions like:

• Do I feel more capable than I did before?

• Am I moving with more control?

• Do I feel stronger in daily life?

• Am I recovering better?

• Is my confidence, even slowly, growing?

If I can say yes to even one of those, that’s progress.

The Emotional Side of Progress

One of the hardest but most important parts has been learning to be proud of myself without comparison.

Not comparing my body to non-disabled people; not comparing my journey to able-bodied fitness narratives and not comparing my progress to someone else’s highlight reel.

My body has its own story and my progress exists within that story, not outside of it.

Some days I struggle with confidence. Some days I still feel visible in a way I didn’t choose. But the difference now is that I’m building proof session by session that I can do this and that evidence is slowly rewriting the story I tell myself.

Celebrating the Quiet Wins

Here are the wins I celebrate now:

✨ finishing a session and feeling good about it

✨ adding a little more control to a movement

✨ adapting a machine successfully

✨ needing fewer breaks

✨ Claudia saying “I can see the progress”

Because little wins stack and eventually, they stop feeling little.

This Isn’t About Perfection - It’s About Staying

If there’s one message I want to share through this series, it’s this:

Disabled bodies belong in fitness spaces even when progress is quiet, gradual, and deeply personal.

I don’t need a dramatic transformation to prove that I’m committed; I don’t need a “before and after” to justify being there and I don’t need to look different to be stronger.

Progress, for me, is showing up, adapting, learning, and building a body that supports the life I want to live.

And that is more than enough

Closing Out 2025 and Rolling Forward Into 2026

As I wrap up 2025, it feels like the right moment to pause and look back at how far I’ve come since joining the gym just five months ago. Five months of showing up. Five months of learning. Five months of slowly building strength not just in my muscles, but in my confidence, my mindset, and my belief in what my body can do.

There have been wobbly days, tired days, proud days, and everything in between but every single session has added up to something bigger than I expected. The best part? I don’t feel finished. I feel motivated. I feel invested. I feel excited to keep going and see how much stronger I can become in 2026 - physically, mentally, and in the way I take up space in the gym without apology. This isn’t a resolution, it’s a continuation and I’m really proud of where it’s heading.