Like many of you, I’ve had a long and winding relationship with exercise.
As a kid, I was a classic tomboy—always outside, always in motion. I played sports with the boys in my neighborhood and thrived on the field. Looking back, I can see how movement gave me a way to be myself before I even fully knew who that was. Sports were my safe space—a place where I could shine and feel fully alive.
Like many of you, I’ve had a long and winding relationship with exercise.
As a kid, I was a classic tomboy—always outside, always in motion. I played sports with the boys in my neighborhood and thrived on the field. Looking back, I can see how movement gave me a way to be myself before I even fully knew who that was. Sports were my safe space—a place where I could shine and feel fully alive.
In high school, I found distance running and never looked back. I loved my cross country and track teams. In both high school and college, my teammates were my people. Running became my outlet, my identity, and my therapy. I pushed myself hard—sometimes maybe too hard. My form was, in a word, terrible. My knees caved in, my legs kicked out, and my teammates (lovingly) said I looked like a dying horse when I ran. But I was fast, so I figured it didn’t matter.
It did matter, but I didn’t realize it until I started to age.
Through my 20s, running continued to keep me sane, grounded, and connected to myself. But as I approached thirty, things started to change. If I ran too many days in a row, my hip or knee would hurt. I found myself running less and less to avoid injury.
Then, in my 30s, life changed in some big ways. I shifted careers, had a child, and stopped exercising almost entirely. I went from being on my feet all day as a teacher to sitting at a computer full-time as a web developer. My energy dropped. My body felt foreign. None of my old workout strategies worked anymore. If I tried to push myself—by running or hitting the gym like I used to—I got hurt. Then I’d stop. Then I’d feel worse.
Approaching 40, I hit a wall. I needed something different.
That’s when I found CrossFit. For the first time in years, I felt strong again. I had more energy. I started to believe in my body again. But my old movement patterns—and the changes that came with aging and childbirth—kept getting in the way. Squats and lunges made my knees and back hurt. The coaches were great, and physical therapy helped, but I knew I needed something more personalized.
That’s when it clicked: I didn’t just want someone to tell me what to do. I wanted to understand it for myself. I wanted to know how to move well, how to program smart, and how to rebuild from the inside out.
So I signed up for the NASM Certified Personal Trainer course—originally just for me. But somewhere along the way, I realized: this is what I want to do. I want to help others who feel like I did—smart, motivated, and stuck. People whose bodies are changing, whose old routines don’t work anymore, and who want to feel strong, capable, and confident again.
Now I’m a personal trainer, fitness coach, and program designer. I specialize in working with people in midlife and in menopause—especially those who have a complicated history with exercise and are ready for something more personalized and sustainable.
I intend to be active for the next several decades. If that’s your goal too, I hope you’ll consider reaching out.
My Background & Credentials
- Certified Personal Trainer (NASM-CPT)
- MS in Teaching & Learning, Colorado State University
Specialization: Online Program Design - Former licensed Vermont educator
10+ years as a teacher and school leader - Web developer turned coach
With a lifelong obsession for movement