Salutations one and all, and allow me first to say welcome to the year 2026.
As you may have gleaned, this post comes to you on 02/01/2026 — because I have already managed to mess up my plan of action for the year. Nevertheless, I shall power through and talk about how 2025 ended, and my hopes for the year ahead.
When I set up this website, I had made one of the biggest — and scariest — decisions of my life: quit my job, go travelling, attend a fitness camp, and grow as a person.
Thankfully, that time became the greatest period of my life, and one I will never regret. However… it was also short.
To anyone I meet, I tell them they need to do something like that at some point in their life. However, as I sit here and contemplate my own journey, I sometimes wonder — is it fair to say that when I cut mine short because a work opportunity I couldn’t pass up landed in my lap?
The answer to that question, for me at least, is no.
And that’s exactly why I appreciate those moments so deeply.
That journey awakened new feelings and new aspects of myself. It created a hunger to continue growing, continue improving, and continue being healthy — in both body and mind.
Although there were setbacks to those goals in 2025, I want to continue them and expand my horizons in 2026. That includes exploring more of myself, my beliefs, my surroundings, my country — and, if time permits, the world.
One thing I know for certain is that I plan to attend the WWE event in Turin, Italy — my first time ever visiting Italy. I want to come back here and tell you about the experience, good or bad, and reflect on the impact it had on me.
In 2025, I attended Clash in Paris — and while I was there, I focused too much on maximising the time rather than enjoying it. Maybe someday I’ll write about the journey itself: walking the streets of Paris, seeing the Eiffel Tower, and everything in between. But that’s for future Craic.
For now, I want to say this:
To anyone who read any of the 12 posts from 2025, I truly appreciate you. Writing them made me feel more — more creative, more inspired — and I hope to continue that throughout 2026, even if it’s just a single paragraph or a quote that felt right on a given day.
I plan to continue with the support of the great Gavin Meenan (Instagram link) and the awesome facilities of ROM (Range Of Motion Sligo) (Instagram link) and hopefully share the positive steps along the way.
Ah — There’s my quote for the day.
You Had A Good Year – Craic Attack
Slán go fóill! And Póg mo Thóin! My Craic Addicts!
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For those of you who don’t know, I’m a gamer. It’s one of my deepest passions—right up there with anime and wrestling (specifically WWE, yes I’m a mark!). These things didn’t just entertain me; they shaped who I am. Maybe it’s unfair to put that weight on them, but it’s the truth. It’s funny how the things we love, even when they’re objectively mediocre, can become so integral to how we think.
Take Crash Bandicoot: Twinsanity, one of my all-time favourite games. I might even review it someday. But there’s one line from the game that stuck with me for no real reason: “The rats are leaving the sinking ship.” It’s an old idiom, meaning people abandon a failing situation—whether it’s a business, a project, or something more personal—before it completely collapses.
So why am I starting this post with that line? Because since I returned home, I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve caught myself wondering if all the effort I’m putting into maintaining my progress—the training, the discipline, the momentum—is a waste of time. That maybe I should just let the rats leave.
But why? Why was a month back in Ireland enough for doubt and negativity to creep in? Why does fitness feel different when I’m traveling versus when I’m just… living?
Ironically, the answer might lie in structure. While I was away, I had freedom. I wasn’t working. No one relied on me. I wasn’t important. Now, you could argue two of those three things still apply (fair point), but the weight of responsibility hits differently when you’re home. And like many adults, I’ve found it all too easy to be smothered under that weight.
What’s funny, though, is that responsibility wasn’t totally absent in Thailand either. I often felt like I could have—and should have—done more classes, pushed harder. I wasn’t totally comfortable there either. In a weird way, discomfort followed me both places, just in different forms. And honestly, I wonder: if I had stayed even one more week after the camp, would these feelings have caught up to me there too?
Here in Ireland, thanks to the support of the great Gavin Meenan (Instagram link) and the awesome facilities of ROM (Range Of Motion Sligo) (Instagram link), I’ve got a new program, a plan, and structure again. Gavin’s kept me on track, helped me keep building on what I gained at camp, and reminded me that the journey doesn’t end just because the setting changes. ROM, for its part, has become one of the few safe havens I have when it feels like the boat is sinking faster.
I’ve been training regularly—at a pace that’s sustainable—and managing my food. Gavin’s helped me pinpoint what’s working, what could be improved, and how to keep making progress. And I’m proud to say that I haven’t just maintained what I achieved in Thailand—I’ve made small improvements since returning.
But that’s the thing—they’ve only been small.
In Thailand, I went from 17st 12lb to 17st 2lb. Here in Ireland, I’ve dropped just 5lb in the same timeframe—down to 16st 11lb. Stats. Relentless little buggers, aren’t they?. Gotta love them.
A long way to go but the little things stack up too.
In Thailand, if you walked into a 7-Eleven, the sweets were tucked away at the back. You had to choose to go there. Still annoying (they were near the protein shakes), but less in-your-face.
In Ireland? You’re greeted by temptation at the door. Sweets. Newspapers screaming doom. Prices that make your stomach turn. And staff who—through no real fault of their own—often seem just as beaten down as the customers.
I always try to be kind to anyone working in service—I know what they deal with. But in Thailand, even when people didn’t understand what I was saying, they smiled, laughed, engaged. Here? Flip a coin. Maybe they ignore you. Maybe they pretend not to hear you (that’s the worst one). Or maybe they try until another customer or manager kills the vibe.
Anyway—rant over. 😅
Another difference I’ve noticed—and this one stings a bit—is how cliquey things feel here compared to Thailand.
Back at camp, everyone was on the same journey. Different backgrounds. Different goals. But the energy was shared. You could chat with anyone, partner up with anyone, and no one looked at you sideways for trying. It felt like a team effort, even if we were all on our own paths.
Back in Ireland, I can’t help but feel like the walls are back up. Whether it’s at the gym, in a class, or just walking around town, there’s this sense of social territory. Like if you weren’t already part of a group, you’re probably not getting in now.
ROM has introduced something that could help with that—a communal coffee zone and a sauna (coming soon). It’s a beautiful idea, and I really hope it breaks down some of those invisible walls. For me I look forward to giving it a go, so if you ever spot me there pull me aside and say hello
Maybe it’s just me. But it does make you long for a change of setting—somewhere like the pub, where people are more open, more free. But of course, with alcohol comes chaos: louder crowds, more aggression, more questionable decisions. I haven’t had a pint since I got back, but resisting the temptation hasn’t exactly been easy.
So yeah—these pressures have made me question things. The worth of the work. The why behind the grind.
So why am I really feeling this way?
I’m not entirely sure yet. But I do know I plan to figure it out.
Once I settle into the new job and adjust to being truly back in Ireland, I want to keep expanding my horizons. Visit more of Ireland. See more of Europe. Take on new challenges. Try the things I’ve always said I would but never followed through on.
Maybe I’ll finally do the skydiving I promised myself 15 years ago—despite the fear of heights.
All I know is this: Looking back at the difference in atmosphere, camaraderie, and joy between this past month in Ireland and the one I spent in Thailand… it’s clear something changed in me.
That’s why I genuinely believe every young person should have a travel fund waiting for them on their 19th birthday.
One month away changed me. Maybe it could change them too.
I’ll leave you with the final image of the main meal I have been forcing onto myself almost everyday. Yes not having change in meals is boring but what can I say I am a creature of habit but it fuels the mission. (Still waiting on Gordon Ramsay’s review).
Two breasts of chicken with salt and pepper in a shallow fry with rapeseed oil and Balsamic Rice with salt, pepper, ground turmeric, smoked paprika and plenty of stirring
Oh and since no one have yet to complain the new closing line from my twitch streams (link here and below shameless plug) will stick around for now…
Slán go fóill! And Póg mo Thóin! My Craic Addicts!
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After messing up and accidentally having a free weekend, I was hyped and ready to get down to business. I woke up to see the newly updated class schedule posted in the WhatsApp group chat. Knowing I had a Personal Training (PT) session included for the day, I was determined to do at least three classes on my first day.
This was where I learned the truly horrifying home truth that I was brutely unfit and that my dreams would remain that a dream. I went to the crosstraining class at 8.15am where I was met with nothing but infinite kindness by all of my fellow participants and the trainer for that class, Coach Dino (Instagram link) and Coach Lewis (Instagram link).
They explained the type of work we would be doing, demonstrated the proper technique for each task, and boosted our confidence every step of the way—something I desperately needed. I started out feeling pretty unsure, but we were matched into groups of three, and I was lucky that the two gentlemen I was paired with had similar strength profiles to mine.
For the warm-up portion, I was able to keep pace with my teammates and hit my workout targets at the same speed. There were a few instances where Dino needed to come over to correct my form. However, he did note that for the most part, my form was almost perfect, especially during the deadlift exercises like the kettlebell deadlift and later, a deadlift using a bench press bar, courtesy of the great Gavin Meenan (Instagram link).
It was in the last 15 minutes, during the partner “As Many Rounds (or Reps) As Possible” (AMRAP) Workout of the Day (WOD), that things took a turn for the worse for me. I had completely run out of energy, and what made it worse was that I was using weights much lighter than what I was previously lifting in Ireland before I left.
Now, there’s a caveat to this: in Ireland, I was using a Triangle Bar for deadlifts, and the weights would range from:
5 x 52.5kg (15kg each)
5 x 92.5kg (35kg each)
5 x 122.5kg (50kg each)
5 x 142.5kg (60kg each)
Here in this class, we had 100kg on the bench press bar, and my ability to move it was severely impaired. This crushed my soul, motivation, and desire. What was worse was that, looking around, I was the only one on my team who had to tap out—and the only one in the class to boot. And to make matters worse, I tapped out just 5 minutes into the 15-minute session, which meant I had to sit on the sidelines, watching as the others finished the workout, drowning in my self-loathing.
Now, my teammates didn’t mind at all that I tapped out. They understood and supported me, giving me pep talks and congratulatory slaps on the back for what I had managed to do. But for me, it meant nothing. I was glad I did the class, but the thought of team-based challenges became a sticking point for me. Unfortunately, until the last week of the retreat, I did everything I could to avoid them.
After this, I had breakfast and met with the shining light of the trip. For privacy reasons, I’m not sure she wants to be named, but I met a woman named S. Irish, like me. She understood exactly how I was feeling and had a way about her that made me smile at my own self-loathing. She helped me reflect on my difficulties and gave me the strength to get back up after my “arse was thoroughly smacked.” In an incredible twist of fate, we discovered that we were next-door neighbors at the hotel, so we became buddies and talked throughout the retreat. She truly made the experience beautiful for me, and I thanked her galore for that honor.
Anyway, after she set me right, I decided to partake in one of the extra elements included in my package: one of the three Ice Baths and Saunas a week. These took place on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays between 12 and 2 pm for a period of one hour. Back in Ireland, the wonderful Hot Box Saunas (Website) were a true joy of mine, so I was really looking forward to this experience. However, once again, I would be met with slight disappointment. Much to my chagrin, the maximum temperature of the saunas was 72°C, and with the sauna I used in Ireland often reaching between 90-100°C, I found it lacking.
However, the same could not be said for the ice baths. Throughout the entire experience, I missed only two attempts at the ice bath. It became one of the most enjoyable tasks of the camp, which is certifiably insane, as many of the other camp attendees kept telling me. It got to the point that before I left, one or two people referred to me as the “Lord of the Ice Bath.” On one particular day, I managed to last 45 minutes in the ice water without leaving it for a second. I’ll admit, I did cheat a little—my arms remained above the water for that period. With my arms in the water, I lasted 15 minutes, which I’m still impressed with today.
After the ice, I then met with my PT for the first of 20 sessions we would have throughout this experience—the incredible Aof (Instagram link). Immediately, he noticed a few issues I had never taken notice of. My posture was unacceptable, lurching too far forward, which artificially showcased my, as an incredibly kind nurse once put it, “rotund frame.”
He stated that I had a good amount of definition in the front regions of my chest and shoulders; however, the same couldn’t be said for my rear shoulders and back. This was fascinating to me, because based on this observation, he was able to deduce that before I came to the camp, I had spent several years in a job that required me to sit at a desk for long periods of time. I had always thought I was doing enough to avoid any issues with my body because of that fact. I worked out daily, pushed myself to my limits, started walking more—including doing a number of mountain walks (foreshadowing! in a future post) in my local area—and made an effort to move every hour on the hour.
Alas, I had done some good, but not enough. So, we decided to focus more on strengthening those underdeveloped areas, rather than focusing on a program that would maximize my weight loss, which, as you can see from the images below, was badly needed. We took no quarter and immediately dove into our first workout: Chest and Triceps. What made this particularly grueling was that I had informed Aof about my experience in the Crosstraining class, and he used it as a challenge, targeting the exact areas that had failed me during that session. Truthfully, I believe it was a happy coincidence, but alas, we went for it anyway.
With that, I was satisfied and ready to continue improving in the upcoming days. Before I left, one of the things Aof recommended I pick up was a canister of protein powder to ensure I was getting enough to burn throughout my time at the camp. After a good workout, I wanted to get this out of the way immediately, so I went up the street and checked out a couple of sports shops. After about 30 minutes of going between the stores, I still hadn’t found the specific brand of protein powder Aof had recommended. And then, the last horrible experience of this truly unique first proper day happened.
Let me set the scene. I was on one side of the road and needed to cross to reach the last potential supplement shop on the street. There wasn’t a zebra crossing in sight. Like everywhere else in Thailand, if there isn’t a crossing, your only option is to make a break for it when you get the best chance. Don’t beat me to the punchline… I looked left—nothing. I looked right, and there was a van and a bike on the way up. They were slow, and I had enough distance to cross before they got to me. So, I made the dash.
I crossed in front of the van with plenty of space, crossed in front of the bike with plenty of space, and then, out of nowhere, another bike attempted to overtake the two vehicles at an alarming speed. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do anything, and the bike ran right into me. I was lucky I saw it just in time. I quickly turned my body to roll on top of the front of the bike, which I managed to do. I landed flat on my stomach after rolling off the bike. The only damage was a bruised leg and a sore elbow. In fact, as I write this post, it’s still an annoyance to me, but thankfully nothing worse.
The driver checked to see if I was bleeding or dead, and when he confirmed I wasn’t, he went on his merry way. I got up sore and bruised, but alive and well. This put a stop to my plans for doing more classes that day, but to be fair, I was probably going to skip them anyway. For the next few days, I went to maybe one class and worked with my PT, but it was all good. I healed fairly well and prepared for the other challenges that would appear the following week, but that’s a discussion for next time. I leave you with this image of me at the end of that Monday, and yes, it’s a mix of exhaustion, pain, and disbelief. And why disbelief? Because would you believe the last supplement shop didn’t have the protein powder either?
Until next time, my friends! Be sure to keep your craic at 90! Slán go fóill!
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