I planned to teach. And I did, for a long time. But somewhere along the way, running became the thing that made everything else make sense.
I spent fifteen years as a high school teacher. I have a Bachelor of Education and a Bachelor of Exercise Physiology — which meant I came to teaching already thinking about how the body works, how load accumulates, how people change. I cared about my students. I worked hard. I was good at it.
What teaching gave me that no coaching course could was an understanding of how people actually learn. Not the theory — the reality. What works when someone is tired and unmotivated. How to explain something clearly when the concept isn't landing. How to hold someone's attention and make the information stick. I use all of that every day as a coach.
Running coaching is, at its core, still teaching. I just moved the classroom outside.
Running didn't fix everything. But it gave me an hour every morning that was completely mine. That mattered more than I expected.
Growing up I played cricket, soccer, AFL, and league. Sport was just how I existed — there was always a team, a season, a reason to train. I never needed to think about it.
Then the seasons stopped. The teams dissolved. And I found myself in my thirties without the thing that had always kept me physically honest and mentally level. I genuinely didn't know what to do with that gap.
Running filled it — and I wish I'd found it earlier. It gave me back everything team sport had always provided: a goal, a reason to get up early, a way to measure yourself against something real. And it gave me something team sport never could — I could do it entirely on my own terms, whenever life allowed, with no one else depending on me to show up.
The numbers on men's health in Australia are not good. Cardiovascular disease, type 2 diabetes, early mortality — the research consistently points to inactivity as a major driver, and men are disproportionately affected. I am not immune to any of that. Running is, in part, how I am doing something about it.
I have two daughters watching me. I want them to see their dad still lacing up well into middle age. That is the whole point.
I played four sports growing up and never once considered running. I was wrong about that.
Groundwork is not a run club. It is not social jogging with a Spotify playlist. It is structured, physiology-backed coaching for people who want to actually improve — whether that means finishing a 5km, running a half marathon, or going sub-four at the Gold Coast.
I write plans grounded in exercise physiology, not templates pulled from the internet. I build them around your life, your body, and your goal — whatever race or distance that happens to be. Programs can be built for any event, any distance, at any point in the year.
Your plan loads into TrainingPeaks each week and syncs straight to your Garmin. But once a month we sit down over coffee — along Kedron Brook, Hamilton, New Farm, wherever suits — go through your numbers, how you are feeling, and make sure the plan is working for your life, not against it.
That monthly catch-up is not an add-on. It is the whole point. Every online coach can send you a PDF. Not every coach shows up.
I race the same events I coach. GC Marathon and Sydney Marathon this year. The Toowoomba Half. Bridge to Brisbane. I am in the same training cycle, dealing with the same tired legs on a Thursday morning, chasing the same finish lines as my athletes.
That, I think, makes a difference. At least, it would to me if I were looking for a coach.
These are the events I am racing this year and that anchor Groundwork programs. That said, programs can be built for any race, any distance, at any point in the calendar — just ask.
Founding client spots are strictly limited and heavily discounted. In exchange I ask for honest feedback and a genuine review once we have done the work together.
Get started Client loginThe best coaches I have ever had were the ones who showed up. Not just to tell me what to do, but to be in it with me. That is what I am trying to build here.