Gains & Brains: New Year, Same Us.

Happy Christmas and associated holidays, team! I (Megan) hope you are replete with great food, the company of loved ones, and a good solid break.

As we round out 2025, we thought we’d celebrate some things we’ve accomplished this year. (After this week, we’re going to take a couple of weeks off, because as you know, around here we prioritise rest and recovery.)

I am going to let Carl start, because even in the last week, he’s achieved something pretty miraculous. I am being genuine when I say I am very proud of him, and pretty astonished at his grit and energy. Go on, Carl, brag a little.

Haha, thanks Megan. I still find praise hard to accept. It’s true, I ran a trail marathon with little preparation (intentional). What’s funny is that it turned into something very different from what I expected. And I am proud I did it. 

I went in looking forward to the pain cave, to stripping things back and seeing what I’m made of. To proving to myself, once again, that even when my body has given out, my mind hasn’t. And yes, it was that to an extent. There was pain. Plenty of it. But what surprised me most was how much joy and connection sat right alongside it.

I started the run with the happiest runner I know, my daughter Alaia, who ran 5km with me, mostly holding my hand. It was truly beautiful. She ran up walls, skipped over every line on the ground, chatted the entire way, completely absorbed in the moment. It reminded me that effort doesn’t always have to feel heavy.

Not long after, a team of supporters joined me through the stunning Trelissick Park. Then a friend came along for what she called “the beginning” of my run and stayed for 19km. Up hills, through native bush, over Kaukau and Makara Peak. She kept my pacing honest, something I’m not naturally gifted at, but more importantly, we shared the landscape, the quiet, and the awe of it all together.

As we exited the bush, I was greeted by a giant bumblebee, a T-Rex, and a bestie. In an instant, every ache and creeping doubt dissolved, replaced by laughter, love, and a feeling of being deeply held. From there, it was on to Karori Park, where my crew had set up, pom poms, plenty of colour and snacks! Friends, family, and even my parents popping in. I almost felt guilty for how much joy I was experiencing, so naturally I decided to grind out 9km around the flat park in the sun. It was gritty and uncomfortable, but every lap came with applause, encouragement, and small moments of connection that carried me forward.

(Megan here; there was also a very funny moment where a young gentleman was running alongside Carl and passed him. We watched, amused, as his pace lengthened, his chest raised and the arms started to pump a little faster, refusing to be beaten. His group of supporters agreed it was all very “Carl coded.”)

The hardest part mentally came later, running through Wellington city. Concrete streets, crowds, and a long stretch without my crew, all the way to Mount Victoria, my final summit. Technically the easiest section, but psychologically the toughest. A quiet grind. One I welcomed, knowing it would end the same way it had begun, shared with the people who had walked, run, laughed, and carried parts of it with me. And that happened, when I ran along Oriental Parade I spotted the Trex, bumblebee, my friends and my oldest daughter Brooke all with water pistols and a finish line bunting set up for me to run through! Just epic.

This was the final of three physical challenges I’ve taken on over the past six months, the first being a powerlifting competition and the second a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu competition. Each came with its own challenges and cultures, all of which I enjoyed, but one thing stayed constant, my team. The same people who supported me technically in my preparation, the same people who supported me through life, and the same people I’m excited to be around again soon.

This has probably been the toughest year of my life so far. Many areas were under real strain, and this support felt like a necessary nutrient rather than a nice to have bonus. And after all of the adversity I am feeling the deepest sense of gratitude and not from the physical achievement but because of my community. 

Looking back, this challenge wasn’t just about endurance or toughness. It was a reminder that in hard years, and this has been one on multiple fronts, community becomes a form of social resilience. It cushions the sharp edges, steadies the pace, and shows up exactly when doubt gets loud. Strength isn’t about pushing through alone, but about letting others run beside you, even if only for a while. Also achievements land differently when they’re shared. Joy stretches further, and the moment feels fuller, when the people you love are there to share it with you.

For example,I loved watching Megan compete, smashing lifting PB’s and all with plenty of colour and a smile on her face .

Megan again. I’ve been deliberating over this newsletter for a few days, and finding it hard to write. Those of you who are, or have been, high achievers will know the feeling: you set a goal, achieve the goal, and then immediately decide it must have been easy and therefore not actually that impressive. And thus, you forget to actually celebrate doing the thing.

Again, yes, I have a therapist.

I didn’t run a marathon on a random Sunday, but I am very proud of my consistency this year. My goal was to be in the gym four times a week, and I totally achieved that. I’ve come back after illness, after injury, and through some of the most stressful periods of my life. I was chatting recently about identity, and Carl said, “I think you can add gym bunny to how you identify.” Much as I might blush at that idea, it’s true. for the first time since high school, I’m a person who exercises regularly: for fun, for performance, and to feel good when I get out of bed in the morning. Which, at least some days, I do. 

When I first went back to the gym, I wanted to feel better. I wasn’t expecting it to change how I see myself. Nor was I expecting it to reveal how many different ways there are to be strong. Over the past few months, I’ve been reflecting on who I want to be as a human, and while that’s still an open question, “old lady who still lifts heavy weights” feels like a promising start.

I did my first powerlifting competition this year. As I wrote at the time, I was terrified: of failing, of hating it, of making a fool of myself. And I did fail. But I don’t think I made a fool of myself, and I didn’t hate it. I came away with clear lessons for next time, and a deep appreciation for what elite lifters can do. Did you catch that “next time”? Yep. Me and my softsuit are gearing up for at least one competition in 2026.

And… I found a community.

Carl and I write this newsletter because we’re having fun, because these are the conversations we have while we train, and because I kept thinking, “surely other people are also wondering why knee valgus is such a crime” (it isn’t). But what’s surprised me most is how many of you have told us this space has nudged you to try lifting heavy, or to move your body differently, or even just to Google “hypertrophy.”

Watching Carl run his marathon, with a group of us hopping around Wellington to cheer him on, made me realise how much that sense of belonging matters. I feel it every time I walk into the gym. There’s always someone to say hello to, to cheer on, to have bants with. It turns out it’s not all protein powder and GAINZ.

So that’s what I wish for you in 2026: people who make you feel like yourself, long rests between sets, enough challenge to grow, and great snacks.

Thanks for hanging out with us.

Cool Shit We Saw This Year 

This was only a few weeks ago, but Megan still loves it: These findings led me to explore how strength training might support trauma recovery, particularly for domestic violence survivors who may benefit from reclaiming physical agency and rebuilding their sense of bodily autonomy and strength."

Everyday life has begun to feel like a constant workout—with gimmicks from walking pads to weighted vests—when simply doing focused, mindful exercise and movement may be more effective and enjoyable.

 "All you need is any object that you can grasp and can be deformed without causing pain or discomfort."

This message is particularly true at New Year's.

Even modest amounts of physical activity — such as walking or gardening — can significantly reduce depression risk by up to 18% and help manage existing symptoms, largely by releasing mood-related neurotransmitters, activating the endocannabinoid system, boosting neuroplasticity, regulating stress responses and reducing inflammation. (Washington Post gift link)

"My advice to others is to listen to your body, take time off when you need to and, most importantly, just enjoy the journey. The day-to-day training is what I love the most." What an icon. 

"These days, I lift weights not so much to see what I can do, but more to access the feelings I have when I’m doing it: presence, confidence, focus, peacefulness. Identifying that switch — the why of lifting weights — feels like it’s own kind-of strengthening." (Also, this line "These days I find more ease, safety and joy in living a body that I’m not constantly fighting" made me (Megan) tear up.)

Another reason to lift weights: Lifting weights just two or three times a week can significantly change the trillions of bacteria living in your gut, and it might happen in as little as eight weeks. (Actual study here)

"Resistance training is like saving for retirement, he said. The earlier you start, the better off you’ll be down the road." NYT gift link

I commend to you, Jen Thompson.

Sam Bee and Casey Johnston? Yes. 

Resistance training is good for your muscles, your bones, your brain…and also your nerves.

Always relevant: Kate Manne on finding strength: "And I hate to admit it, but I feel better—stronger. Less depressed and less foggy. This is such a boon, especially in an era when the political situation requires so much fight and energy and endurance."

And the Washington Post's Karen Attiah on the same. (I could have pulled 15 quotes from this piece): "The point is that weightlifting, with all its external difficulties and pressures, is an internal journey. Weight training has taught me what it means to push my physical limits, using my own body as a proving ground for what it feels like to have power. Still, the personal is always political — I’ve realized that it’s hard to build muscles without being worried about “balancing” my strength against preserving my femininity."