My Journey Into Training – The Story Behind Gym-22
Why this story matters:
I want to share my story with complete transparency, so you can gain an insight into how training
changed my life, and how it can change yours too. By looking into my upbringing and where my training journey began, my hope is to inspire you, help you feel understood, and show you that you’re not alone in your starting point.
More importantly, I hope this encourages a shift in how you view fitness, not as something you have to do, but something you want to do for the rest of your life.
Gym-22 was created to provide a home. A safe place where fitness is about health, longevity, connection, and community. A place focused on support, self-discovery, and learning to connect with both body and mind, not trends, quick fixes, or showing off.
To understand why training means so much to me today, it’s important to go back to where it all started. Long before structured workouts, coaching, or Gym-22 ever existed, my relationship with exercises was shaped by my upbringing, my environment, and the challenges I faced growing up.
Childhood, Movement & Finding My Place 
I was born in a small town in Hungary in 1990. My mum was only 19 years old when she had me, so she was incredibly young. After a short marriage to my dad, they separated shortly after I was born.
I spent a lot of time with my grandma and at my great-grandparents’ house. They had animals, fruit trees I loved climbing, and a lake near their home. I loved being there. Being outdoors was just what kids did back then, we played, explored, and stayed outside until dark without thinking twice about it.
When I was around five years old, I started playing football with older kids from the block. They were bullies, but I didn’t care, I just wanted to play. I was actually pretty good too. Despite the rough edges, I have great memories of those days.
I also spent a lot of time with my mum and her friends. Evenings were filled with Sega games, bonfires, laughter, and conversations. One night, she showed me how to do a headstand. Writing this now, I realise how much of an impact that moment may have had on me, even though I never did gymnastics afterward. At the time, football was everything.
We moved frequently, which made it difficult to fit in at new schools and in new neighborhoods. I spent a lot of time alone. I was usually the new, skinny, slightly awkward kid who rode his skateboard everywhere, making far too much noise on the streets.
Eventually, we settled in a small village near the Slovakian border. I was around 15 or 16 years old, and for the first time in a long while, I started to feel at home again. I made friends, built connections, and found some stability.
My best friend Geri and I started going out more, and we had an older mutual friend named David. He was the guy we relied on to buy us drinks and drive us to parties. David was also a big guy, strong, confident, and he had a small gym setup in one of his rooms where we often hung out.
Geri and I would sometimes lift a pair of 5kg dumbbells, trying to impress him. That didn’t last long. The weights he lifted quickly humbled us.
We trained with him for about a month, maybe once or twice a week. But honestly, I wasn’t that interested. Picking up weights and putting them back down didn’t excite me or feel meaningful at the time. I was more focused on girls, going out, and playing football in the local Sunday league.
For a while, I genuinely believed I could become a professional footballer. My greatest achievement, however, was scoring a single goal against a higher-tier team in a 6–1 loss. Our team wasn’t very good, but I remember smiling after that game. “I scored that one goal”
The Loss of My Mum
On the 22nd of June, just a few days before my 17th birthday, my mum passed away in a tragic car
accident. I still struggle to put into words how that moment felt. From that day on, everything changed, not just my circumstances, but who I was as a person.
I stopped playing football. I quit school. Without realising it at the time, I began searching for ways to escape, and drinking became one of them. I started spending time with different people, who I thought were friends, but in reality were mostly just drinking buddies. Maybe one or two truly cared.
I rebelled against everything. I had no guidance, no sense of direction, and no real goals. I lived only for the moment, rarely thinking about tomorrow. Looking back, I can see how lost I truly was.
My grandma, bless her heart, was the one constant source of support. She managed to convince me to get some form of qualification, hoping it would help put me back on track. I enrolled in a chef’s course, and although I didn’t realise it at the time, that decision would later become my ticket away from home.
Even after completing the course, I was still deeply confused about my future. All I knew was that if my mum could see me then, she would be disappointed in the path I was taking. That feeling ate away at me. I felt ashamed. I wanted out. I needed a fresh start.
One night, while sitting at our usual drinking spot, a friend introduced me to someone who had just returned from London after living there for over a year. He was visiting family and mentioned he was heading back to England the following week. I said how much I’d love to visit one day. Without hesitation, he replied, “Sure, you can stay at mine.”
I had only just met him. But at that point in my life, I felt like I had nothing to lose, and when you have nothing to lose, taking risks becomes easy, so I decided to go with him.
Visiting England
The ticket was fairly cheap, and my grandma was happy to help finance it. She believed it could be good for me, a chance to experience a different culture, see new places, and gain a fresh perspective on life.
The flight was delayed and then rescheduled for the next day, which felt frustrating at the time. But a day later, I finally arrived in London, and I was completely blown away.
The language, the streets, the lights, the crowds, the cars, the way people dressed, everything felt alive. I remember seeing a girl on the Underground with dark features, darker than what I was used to back home. She looked effortlessly cool, stylish as hell, dancing in the middle of the carriage with her headphones on. She didn’t care what anyone thought, she was fully immersed in her music, enjoying the moment.
I instantly fell in love with that energy. With that freedom. With England.
I remember thinking, this is the place where I can start fresh and become who I want to become.
I spent around five days there. I can’t say I was sober for most of it, but one thing was crystal clear, I will be back.
Visiting England is one thing. Moving there is another. After I returned to Hungary I was desperate to find a way back, but without money, language skills, or guidance, it felt almost impossible. But as I’ve said before, when you feel like you have nothing to lose, you become fearless, almost unstoppable.
It took about another year to get everything organised. Then, without going into too much detail, I was finally ready. My grandma bought my ticket. I had a place to stay at a friend’s house in Brighton and I had enough money to survive for about a month. All I needed to do was find work and learn how to speak English. Easy, right? Getting a job was just as difficult as I expected. Nobody wanted to hire a chef with no experience and no language skills, my entire vocabulary consisted of yes, no, and beautiful. I remember thinking, how am I supposed to gain experience if nobody gives me a chance?
Eventually, I found work in a fish and chips shop. The place wasn’t great, but it was a job. I could support myself, and that mattered.
I started watching Friends and Two and a Half Men in English with English subtitles because I wanted to understand not just how words sounded, but how they were spelled. Within a year, my English improved massively, and I managed to land a decent chef job.
For the first time in a long while, my life felt like it was back on track. I grew more confident. Opportunities started appearing. One of them led me to the Isles of Scilly in Cornwall, where I spent seven years working as a chef and creating some of the best memories of my life.
During those years, I met someone who became almost like a father figure to me, someone who would have a huge influence on my life by teaching me what physical training really is.
Finding Strength Through Free Weights
Even though my life was finally back on track, I was still that shy, skinny kid underneath it all. At this point, I was 23 years old, weighing around 65kg at 180cm tall.
I constantly heard comments like:
“Are you ill?”
“Why are you so skinny?”
“Do you even eat?”
I’d never been a big eater. My personality has always been energetic, what people today might label as ADHD. I don’t really like labels; I’m just me. Sitting down for long meals always felt boring, like a waste of time. I’d much rather be doing something.
But eventually, being called skinny started to wear me down. Girls were more interested in bigger, stronger “bear-mode” guys, and that really crushed my confidence. I thought I was taking care of myself, I had a good job, a social life, and independence, but in reality, I was still running from my weaknesses instead of addressing them. I wasn’t truly looking after myself but I didn’t really know what that would even mean it practice.
That’s when I met László.
He was a fellow Hungarian working at the same restaurant as me, and we clicked instantly. Quiet but hilarious, disciplined and focused, his life followed a simple rhythm: work, gym, eat well, sleep, repeat. He also had the biggest chest and arms I had ever seen in my life.
In the middle of the island, there was an abandoned shed that he had turned into a makeshift gym. And somehow, László knew exactly what I needed. I needed to train. To lift. To be physically challenged.
We started training together three times a week. He told me to buy a weight gainer shake and showed me what to eat on a daily basis. His approach wasn’t about super-clean diets or magic formulas, it was old-school bodybuilding:
train hard, eat properly, and limit sugary foods.
The emphasis was on limit, not eliminate.
Within one to three months, my body began to change dramatically. I gained around 10 kilos, a mix of
muscle and fat, but more importantly, I started to feel good in my own body. My confidence skyrocketed. And suddenly, without trying, I was getting attention from girls.
I felt like I was standing on top of a mountain.
The restaurant job was seasonal, so when summer ended, we went our separate ways. I moved to a different island, and we slowly lost touch. Every now and then, László still drops a flexed biceps emoji on one of my posts. I hope he knows just how much he changed my life.
Without him around, my training became inconsistent. On and off, year after year. I was happy just maintaining what I’d built, but that initial hunger to train had faded.
Then, in early summer 2018, I returned to the island ahead of the new season. Financially, things were tight, and for the first time, I couldn’t afford a gym membership. I still wanted to train, but I had no idea how to do it without free weights.
That’s when I turned to YouTube and started searching for bodyweight-only workouts.
Discovering Calisthenics
At the time, bodyweight training was something I saw as simple, almost inferior to free weights. In my
mind, it was just push-ups and pull-ups, but without access to a gym, I had no other choice. I started searching online, mainly looking for different ways to make those basic exercises a little more interesting.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
By the second or third video, my jaw literally dropped. For the first time in my life, I saw this tattooed guy move from a handstand into a push-up position, without his feet ever touching the ground, then push back up. The movement is called a 90-degree handstand push-up, but that name didn’t come close to describing what I had just witnessed.
What I saw looked like superhuman strength, something I expect to see in Dragon Ball Z. What impressed me even more was that this guy wasn’t massive or built like a bodybuilder. He looked strong, athletic, and most importantly, relatable. He had a similar build to mine, and in that moment, something clicked: if he can do that, maybe I can too. I was instantly hooked, and I knew there and then, without hesitation, that this was something I’m going to learn, whatever it takes.
At that point, push-ups and pull-ups were fairly easy for me. Nothing impressive, but I was confident doing a few clean reps. Still, I quickly realised that this was nowhere near enough to unlock a skill like the 90-degree handstand push-up, and I need to get to work.
I spent months searching for progressions, workout ideas, and tutorials, but instead of clarity, I found myself falling down a rabbit hole. One video contradicted the next. Everyone had a different opinion on the “best” way to train. It wasn’t that anyone was wrong, it was that everyone had different starting points, different builds, and different experiences. As the cruel saying goes, “there is many ways to skin a cat” is probably true.
That’s when I realised that regardless of what anyone said, my first step was obvious. If I couldn’t hold a handstand, I would never perform a 90-degree handstand push-up.
As the season came to an end and my obsession with calisthenics grew stronger, my mindset shifted once again. This time, it felt different. I didn’t just want to train, I wanted to change my career. I wanted to dedicate my life to this discipline, reach a respectable level in calisthenics, and eventually help others who felt as lost and confused as I once did.
I knew I wouldn’t be returning to the island. At 28 years old, I was ready to start over, again. But this time, with purpose.
To make that change, I had to move back to mainland England. The island was small, heavily hospitality-based, and there was no real future for my new passion there. If I wanted to grow, I had to take another leap.
Choosing Where to Begin Again
With only a few days left before the season ended, I still had no idea where I was going to move. People suggested London. Manchester. Brighton crossed my mind again too. But deep down, I knew I didn’t belong in a crowded city.
I was still in love with island life, the slower pace, the smaller population, the sense of space. The Isles of Scilly had become my home, and some of my best memories were made there. Holding onto that feeling of happiness, I went online and typed a simple question into Google:
“What is the happiest place in the UK?”
The answer was Bournemouth.
“Ok then,” I thought. And just like that, I packed my stuff and moved to Dorset.
(Interestingly, whenever I tell this story to people actually from Bournemouth, they usually laugh, I guess opinions vary.)
Bournemouth brought a whole new set of challenges. This time, the fear felt different. Leaving friends, a steady job, and a place I loved to chase something uncertain is very different from taking risks when you have nothing to lose. That fear crept in slowly. And when fear takes over, your thinking changes. You start questioning yourself. You make decisions that don’t align with your goals.
I lasted around three months. I wasn’t focused. I wasn’t training. I wasn’t moving forward. Eventually, I went back to the Isles of Scilly, but my old job was gone, so I ended up on a different island.
This place felt different. I felt different.
I felt beaten, like I had failed. I failed myself, I failed my grandma and I started believing I had dreamed
way too big, and that I needed to accept the truth that I would never be more than a chef. Those thoughts circled my mind all day, every day, for months. I was so miserable and depressed, and I even stopped training completely. I just hated being there.
Until one day, I don’t actually know why, but I woke up being fed up with my misery, and self pity and I thought to myself:
You know what, I would rather take a risk and fail a hundred times than not take it at all and regret it for the rest of my life.
I decided to try again. But this time, I was going to commit fully.
In September 2019, I returned to Bournemouth, but this time with clarity.
I set myself three simple goals:
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Learn the handstand
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Qualify as a personal trainer
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Get a job in a gym
And I did exactly that.
I started working as a receptionist, then as an instructor in a local gym. I qualified as a Level 2, then a Level 3 Personal Trainer and within about a year, I learned the handstand.
The fear didn’t disappear during this time, but I didn’t let it control my decisions anymore. Some days were mentally tough, but I kept going, keeping my goals in mind.
During my time here, I met many incredible people. Two of them became especially important to me, my best friend Adrian, and my partner Kara.
Adrian and I became close almost instantly. Like me, he was a foreigner, and we quickly bonded over our shared love for calisthenics. Whenever we worked the same shifts, we had a great time, and on one of those days, he even taught me my first muscle-up.
From that moment on, calisthenics became a regular part of our lives. We trained together constantly, but it didn’t feel like “working out” it felt being at the playground. Our sessions weren’t structured, and we weren’t following any strict programs, it was pure experimentation, messing around, and pushing each other. And somehow, because of that freedom and enjoyment, we both improved massively.
Working in a gym changed everything for me. It forced me out of my shell. It taught me how to communicate with a large group and individuals. It helped me understand myself better, and just as importantly, taught me how to filter through certain types of people.
And that leads me to the next part of this journey.
The Gym Environment
For many people, aesthetic improvement is the main motivation for training. While there’s nothing wrong with wanting to look better, this mindset often brings negativity with it.
When I first started working in gyms, I imagined they would be filled with supportive, like-minded people, training together, encouraging one another, and growing as a community. And to some extent, that is true.
But I also discovered another side of gym culture: judgment, superiority, and assumptions made without understanding the full picture.
In my first few years, I experienced this first-hand, from both trainers and trainees. Always behind my back, of course. I was often referred to as “the skinny PT” or spoken about as if I were somehow inferior.
What confused me most was that these comments came from an environment that should understand better than most, that health and fitness go far beyond muscle size. To me, real fitness has always been about athleticism, agility, body control, and strength, not just how much mass you carry.
I won’t pretend it didn’t affect me. It did.
But instead of letting it hold me back, I used that negativity as fuel.
As I began progressing in calisthenics, things slowly shifted. My training started to look different. When I grabbed a pull-up bar or stepped onto the parallettes, people would stop and watch.
This isn’t to toot my own horn, it’s to highlight how quickly perceptions can change when people see what the human body is truly capable of. My goal was never to show off. It was always to explore my potential and, hopefully, inspire others to do the same.
About a year later, curiosity replaced judgment. People began asking questions. They wanted advice. They wanted to learn.
And I loved it. I started to include more and more Calisthenics when I was personal training clients, but I wanted ,more, I wanted to build a community. A team, where we all train together in a friendly and fun atmosphere.
One day, Adrian gave me a call. He told me about a personal trainer in Poole who rented out his studio when it wasn’t in use. He said, “You should go and see it, it could be perfect for your calisthenics classes.”
That call changed everything.
That’s how I met Tim.
Tim’s Gym
Tim is an exceptional CrossFit and weightlifting coach, an athlete with a military background, and, above all, someone with a genuinely big heart. He doesn’t just coach his clients, he supports people. Coaches included.
Tim truly lives by the principle: “We grow by lifting others.”
He offered me time slots in his gym to run calisthenics classes, but he didn’t stop there. He helped spread the word, organised my first workshop, introduced my services to his own clients, and supported my business in countless ways. He even put my logo on his gym wall, something I’ll never forget.
The classes started slowly. For weeks, I had just one person attending. And honestly, that was never a problem. I believed in the process, trusted the work, and knew that if I stayed consistent, the numbers would grow.
And they did.
After Tim’s workshop, another person joined. Then they brought a friend. Before I knew it, there were 12 people in my class. I had my team. I had my community. I was surrounded by like-minded people who wanted to train, learn, and grow together. That’s when Gym-22 was born.
Teaching came naturally to me. Breaking movements down, guiding people through progressions, helping them understand their bodies, it all felt purposeful in a way nothing else ever had before.
Tim’s support never faded, and over time, he became almost like an older brother to me. His belief in me, and in what Gym-22 could become, helped turn an idea into something real.
Why Gym-22
Although I had many ideas for what my brand could be called, I always knew what it needed to represent. I didn’t want a generic name, I wanted something meaningful, something that carried the weight of the years that led me here.
When my mum passed away on the 22nd of June, something strange began to happen. I started seeing the number 22 everywhere.
From going to bed at 22:22, to waking up at 02:22 for days in a row…
From my first helicopter ticket to the Scilly Isles being number 22, to arriving in England on the 22nd of July.
This number followed me through every obstacle, every move, every challenge I faced.
In a way that’s hard to explain, and whether you believe in these things or not, I felt it was my mum’s way of letting me know she was still there. That I wasn’t alone. That even when I couldn’t see her, she was walking beside me.
During some of the darkest moments of my life, those signs gave me courage. They helped me keep going when giving up would have been easier.
The Real Takeaway
If there’s one thing I hope you take away from my story, it’s this:
It doesn’t matter where you come from, who you are and how old you are, or how unrealistic your dreams may seem, they are possible.
I had to leave my home country for the unknown.
Learn a new language from scratch.
Take risks when I was being doubted.
Fail, get back up, and keep moving forward even when fear tried to take control.
And now, my purpose is to help others do the same.
Through training, through calisthenics, through movement, I want to show people that with the right mindset and the right progression, they can overcome fear, build confidence, and unlock potential they never believed they had.
The same way you learn calisthenics step by step, you can apply that process to every area of your life.
Gratitude
I wouldn’t be here without the people who believed in me along the way.
Thank you to Laszlo, for taking me into your makeshift gym on the Scillies and showing me what physical training truly is.
Thank you to Geri, for being my friend through decades of life’s ups and downs.
Thank you to David, for introducing me to my first chest press and the world of strength training.
Thank you to Victor, who let me stay at his home in Brighton and helped me settling in.
Thank you to Chris, for being my only client for several weeks, when our classes just started out.
Thank you to Adrian who taught me how to Muscle Up, became my dearest friend, and supported me countless times like no other friend before.
Thank you to Tim, for believing me, guiding me and making my dream come true.
Thank you to Kara, my partner, for believing in me, supporting me relentlessly, and helping make Gym-22 possible.
Thank you to Luke, my friend who taught me ways of creating a successful business, and helped building the website.
And thank you to everyone else who had faith in me and helped shape this journey in ways big and small.
Most importantly, thank you to my grandma for never letting me give up on life, and for always having the wisest words when I needed them most.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story.
I truly hope it inspires you to go after whatever goal is calling you.
Alex
Founder of Gym-22
Keep Evolving
