Awards & Ramps: A Rollercoaster Recap

You’d think seven months would be a decent amount of time to catch your breath, but apparently, life didn’t get the memo. What a whirlwind it's been: awards I never expected and emotions I’m still trying to process.

Let’s rewind.

First off, I had the shock of being nominated, not once, not twice, but three times, for awards I didn’t even know existed until someone kind (and very sneaky) put my name forward. I still have no clue who did it, but I have some ideas, and they’ll never admit it. Classic legends, those ones.

Fast forward to the Phil Sampson Silver Lining Award at the Notties...yes, I won! There was a moment of “hmm” when they kept asking if I wanted to test the ramp onto the stage. I kept brushing it off with a “Nah, I won’t need it.” Joke’s on me! And honestly, receiving that award from Phil’s wife, especially knowing his legacy, was one of the most moving moments of my life. I still get goosebumps thinking about it.

Then came the West Country Women Award for Women in Sport. Different vibe, same disbelief. This time, no ramp in sight. Naturally, I assumed I was just there to clap and eat canapés. They even moved me to a random table, which felt very “you’re definitely not winning” energy. And yet, boom...my name was called. I was so shocked, they had to repeat it. I think my face froze mid-vol-au-vent.

Massive shoutout to Alex Bowater, who interviewed me shaking like a leaf and gently confirmed I was, in fact, not hallucinating.

Oh, and the cherry on top? We got the record! The official, Guinness-worthy kind, thanks to the incredible team who gathered all the evidence. That alone deserved a medal, honestly.

But as surreal and sparkly as those nights were, the heart of it all was always the charity work. We raised £15,000 for the Aaron Lewis Foundation and the Exeter Chiefs Foundation, both of which are deeply meaningful to me. I’ll admit, I had hopes for more (classic overachiever guilt), but given the economy and the David-vs-Goliath nature of small charity fundraising, it was a big win.

Beyond the pounds raised, we raised awareness for the charities and for womens rugby. That visibility means everything.

And then… there was the moment. I received a message from someone who saw me on the route and said they were inspired to train for a 5K, in their everyday wheelchair. That message? Cue the waterworks. Happy, grateful, ugly-crying waterworks.

So yes, it’s been overwhelming. But in the best, most humbling way. And guess what? There’s plenty more where that came from. Including a story about my 22nd surgery (yes, you read that right) that promises drama, trauma, and probably more medically-themed humour than is strictly necessary.

Stay tuned. The wheel is far from over.