The year was 2005.. faux-hawks were in, everyone was rocking Ed Hardy (gag) and Gwen Stefani was busy telling us that she ‘Ain’t no holla-back girl'.
I was working days at a Boxing Gym, holding pads for corporates wanting a bit of ‘street’ in their workout and at night, I was working the doors at some of Auckland’s seediest and most notorious nightclubs. I was working hard to support a passion I had at the time. No-holds-barred fighting.
As far as fighters go, I could not have been a more unlikely candidate. A latch-key kid raised by a single mum who wrapped me up in cotton wool. I was not only spoiled, but as soft as butter. A wimp and a total try-hard. Every single sport that I had ever tried I was completely hopeless at. I was chronically underweight with low self-esteem and had never completed anything in my life, including school.
Growing up I had always idolised fighters - boxers mainly, like Iron Mike Tyson. I saw fighters as the ultimate example of confidence, masculinity and physical prowess - the kind of which I could or would never be able to achieve myself.
In my early twenties I was introduced to weightlifting by a friend of mine and, to my great surprise, I enjoyed the feeling of accomplishment that came with grinding out a heavy session in the gym and slowly but surely, I started to put a little meat on my bones.
One day many years later, working at a Boxing Gym, I started training a hot-shot businessman. He was a big-hitter entrepreneur but a relative new-comer to physical exercise…this guy ended up becoming the CEO of an emerging Kiwi burger brand.
And with that, the B.A.D movement was born. We built a legit gym at the BurgerFuel Head office and I have been running the team through their paces ever since.