Ambassador Spotlight: Emily Smith

Title: Why I Train: The Long Road Back to Me

1. The Early Years

I was the fat kid. The funny friend. The loud one who always had a sarcastic comeback ready—not because I was confident, but because I was desperately trying to cover up how uncomfortable I felt in my skin. PE was a form of torture. I dreaded sports day. Changing rooms filled me with anxiety. And every year, without fail, I blew out my birthday candles wishing for the same thing: to be thin.

Looking back, it wasn’t just about wanting to look different. I wanted to feel different. I wanted to feel like I belonged in my own body. I wanted to not be the punchline. I wanted to not feel judged every time I ate in public or walked into a room.

Food was both a comfort and a curse. I used it to self-soothe, but it also became a source of guilt. I was stuck in this cycle—eat, feel bad, eat to feel better, then feel worse. And all the while, I stayed still. Heavily overweight. Unhappy. But outwardly “fine.”

2. The Tipping Point

At 21, something inside me snapped. I don’t remember a single lightbulb moment. It was more like a slow, simmering frustration that finally reached boiling point. I was done. Done feeling ashamed, done hiding under baggy clothes, done waiting for something magical to change me.

So, I joined a gym. Not to punish myself, but to start something—anything—that felt different. I didn’t start with burpees or spin classes. I found the weights area. It was intimidating at first. All these machines, plates, and people who looked like they knew what they were doing. I didn’t. But I kept showing up. Kept lifting. Kept learning.

And something clicked. I started noticing changes—not just in how I looked, but how I felt. For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like the joke. I felt powerful.

3. The Transformation Year

In 12 months, I lost five stone. Naturally. No crash diets, no dodgy shakes, no gimmicks. Just patience, consistency, and a whole lot of sweat.

It wasn’t easy. There were days I wanted to quit. Days I felt like the scale was mocking me. But every time I trained, I felt better. More in control. More me.

As the weight came off, something else was building—confidence. Not the fake kind I used to wear like a mask, but real, rooted self-belief. I was proud of myself. That was new. That was powerful.

4. Becoming a Coach

At 22, I became a coach. That still blows my mind.

The girl who used to fake illness to skip PE was now teaching others how to deadlift and fuel their bodies.

At first, I felt like a fraud. Imposter syndrome hit hard. Who was I to coach anyone? But I remembered where I started. I remembered what it felt like to be lost, overwhelmed, and unsure. And I realised—that’s exactly why I should coach.

Because I get it. Because I’ve lived it. Because I know that fitness isn’t just about before-and-after photos. It’s about feeling seen, heard, and supported.

5. The Evolution of My Fitness

Over the years, my training style has changed more times than I can count.

There were strength-only seasons where I chased PBs like they were gold medals. Then lockdown hit, and I found myself running. A lot. It wasn’t my usual style, but it kept me sane. It gave me structure. It kept me moving.

Post-lockdown, I found my groove again—blending strength with METCON-style training, entering comps, pushing my limits. I gained a lot of muscle. I gained some fat back too. My body changed constantly. And for the first time, I stopped hating those fluctuations.

They didn’t mean failure. They meant I was living. Growing. Evolving.

6. What Training Means to Me Now

Training is my sanctuary. My therapy. My anchor.

When life gets loud, training quiets my mind. When I feel anxious or low, training lifts me. It resets me.

It’s not just about goals or aesthetics anymore. It’s about how I feel when I move. It’s about that post-session high, that feeling of accomplishment, that reminder that I am capable and strong.

If I don’t train, I feel it. I get irritable, foggy, disconnected. But when I do train? I feel grounded. I feel like me.

7. Why I Coach

I coach because I want others to feel this too.

I know what it’s like to walk into a gym and feel like you don’t belong. To hate every mirror. To assume everyone’s judging you.

And I also know the power of being welcomed, supported, and encouraged. That’s the kind of coach I aim to be. The one who sees you, believes in you, and helps you believe in yourself.

I don’t care if you’re chasing fat loss, strength, confidence, or just a bit of headspace—if you’re turning up, you’re already winning.

8. The Mission Going Forward

This isn’t just a job to me. It’s a mission.

I want to help rewrite the narrative. I want people to know that fitness isn’t just for the lean, the strong, the “already fit.” It’s for everyone. It’s for the girl crying in the car park because she doesn’t think she belongs in the gym. It’s for the lad who thinks he has to be tough but secretly feels lost. It’s for every version of me I used to be.

I want to build a community where people feel safe to fail, safe to learn, safe to grow. I want to lead with honesty, vulnerability, and strength.

Because this journey changed my life. And now, it’s my privilege to help others change theirs.

That’s my why. That’s why I train. That’s why I coach. That’s why I’ll never stop showing up.