I was the last person
across the line.
In September 2022 I weighed 38 stone. Getting into my own car had become so difficult I swapped it with my partner. Watching my son play rugby meant bringing a camping chair just so my back wouldn't give out.
I didn't recognise myself anymore. So I flew to Egypt and had bariatric surgery. I came home a different person — or at least, the beginning of one.
May 2023. My first triathlon. I stood on that start line absolutely petrified. Somewhere on the run I fell apart. I messaged my partner: "I don't think I can do this."
"Just keep moving forward. Remember the journey you've already been on. This is your mind to overcome now."
I crossed the finish line last. Dead last. 4 hours and 30 minutes. I was emotional, elated and exhausted all at once.
That's why Uninvited Athlete exists. For everyone who doesn't think they belong on a start line — but shows up anyway.