I was a big kid. Big, strong, physical. I loved sport. I also loved food. Probably a little too much.And by the age of 10, I found myself at Weighless.

Ten years old.

While other kids were thinking about toys, sport and what they were doing that weekend, I was already becoming very aware of my weight, what I ate and what my body looked like. The funny part is, I became bloody good at Weightless.

So good that I ended up standing up at the weekly meetings, giving little talks to all the moms about how well I was doing. A 10-year-old motivational speaker at Weightless.

Maybe the writing was already on the wall. But underneath the funny story was something that would stay with me for the rest of my life: I became aware of my body very young.

Then puberty arrived. I went through a massive growth spurt. I played rugby. I got bigger, stronger and more powerful.I could run through people. But I was also carrying quite a bit of extra weight. By 16, my coach told me:

“You’ve got so big, we might have to move you to prop.”

Nothing against props. But there was one problem. I desperately wanted to play in the back row. And something clicked. There was no grand plan. No 12-week transformation. No wearable telling me I hadn’t done enough steps. No social media challenge. One day, I simply put on my shoes…and started running.

That decision changed far more than my weight. The puppy fat started disappearing. I became fitter. Then faster. Then more athletic. My rugby improved. And eventually, I made the provincial team.

But looking back nearly 30 years later, making that team wasn’t the biggest thing that happened. I discovered exercise. Not exercise as punishment for eating too much. Not exercise because I hated my body. Exercise because I loved what my body could become. Strong. Fit. Capable. Confident. Healthy.

That distinction has shaped so much of my life. Because I’ve also learnt that every single one of us has a different journey with our bodies. Some people will struggle with their weight their entire lives. Some won’t. Some find exercise early. Others discover it at 40, 50, 60 or 70.

Our bodies change. Our circumstances change. Kids arrive. Careers get demanding. Hormones change. Injuries happen. Stress happens. Life happens. You cannot control all of it. But you can build something underneath it.

A lifestyle.

And that’s what I believe we sometimes get wrong when we talk about health. We obsess over the outcome. The number on the scale. The six-week transformation. The before-and-after photograph. But what happens after the after photograph? That’s where the real work is. I have never lived a perfect lifestyle. I enjoy food. I enjoy life. I’ve had periods where I’ve been fitter than others.

But from that moment at 16, movement has always been there. Something I return to. Something that grounds me. Something that reminds me that looking after my body is not a temporary project.

It’s a lifelong relationship.

And perhaps that’s why I feel so strongly about helping everyday people exercise today. Because I know what movement did for that kid. It didn’t just change how he looked. It changed the trajectory of his life. So wherever you are in your own journey, don’t think you need to suddenly become a completely different person.

You don’t need perfection. You need something you can keep coming back to. Move. Get stronger. Eat reasonably well. Look after yourself. Fall off occasionally. Get back on. And keep going. Because almost 30 years ago, a 16-year-old kid who didn’t want to play prop put on a pair of shoes and went for a run.

He thought he was trying to lose some weight.

He had no idea he was beginning the journey that would eventually become his life’s work.

Huge love and High 5’s
Johno