The longer Story

I've spent the last 15 years navigating the world of physical training—across gyms, dojos, yoga studios, park pull-up bars, and even the occasional CrossFit box—trying to answer a question I couldn’t quite articulate at the time: what kind of movement actually serves a human body for the long haul?

At first, training was something I did because I had to. I’ve always cared about longevity and health, but gym workouts often felt like chores—necessary, not meaningful. My earlier career revolved around music and performance, and reconciling that world with physical health often felt contradictory, if not impossible. Creative chaos didn’t always leave room for mobility drills.

That said, I always had a soft spot for martial arts. I dabbled in everything from Japanese jiu-jitsu to Wing Chun to traditional karate. These days I lean more towards combat sports—kickboxing, regular sparring, the occasional non-competitive bout. I’m not a fighter by trade, more of a movement hobbyist with a passion for doing things correctly. (If that sounds dry, it’s because it is—until you realize how rare correct movement actually is.)

Over the years I tried most major training modalities: bodybuilding splits, HIIT, yoga, CrossFit. Eventually I found a rhythm in calisthenics and functional training. My ectomorphic frame (1.74m, ~60kg) gave me a natural edge in relative strength, and I’ve always been methodical—never one to skip warmups or neglect mobility. I like doing things properly, even if no one’s watching.

After leaving music behind and deciding to take movement more seriously, I earned my personal training qualification. And then, of course—lockdown hit. Great timing. Luckily, calisthenics kept me afloat. I had my rings, bands, and bodyweight, which was more than most.

And then I tore my left distal bicep tendon.

Right as I was starting this new chapter. You can imagine my mood.

Fortunately, the orthopaedics department wasn’t exactly swamped, and I had surgery within a week. My background in mobility and rehab gave me a head start, though I had more than a few heated discussions with physios who thought I was “doing too much.” Eventually I found a private physio who saw what others didn’t—and that was a turning point.

Even after rehab, something felt... off. My body had gaps. Disconnects. I wasn’t progressing. I took up kickboxing again and found that years of stretching and strength work hadn’t translated into better kicks or smoother movement. I was stiff in all the wrong places. Other trainers shrugged it off. “It is what it is, mate.”

That’s when I stumbled across Functional Patterns. Their results were undeniable—working with everyone from cerebral palsy patients to elite athletes—and the level of detail was exactly what I’d been searching for. I dove into their methodology, took a course, and never looked back.

Now, training feels less like grinding through reps and more like solving a biomechanical puzzle. My kickboxing improved. Clients started moving better, hurting less. Exercise became, dare I say, intellectually satisfying. I get to observe, troubleshoot, and fix real structural issues—and that’s far more fulfilling than counting reps.

My aim now is to help others experience that same shift. Whether you’re stuck with an old injury, frustrated by a plateau, or just want to feel like your body actually works with you instead of against you—I’m here to help. There’s a reason things aren’t moving the way they should. Let’s figure it out.