Ross Geldart

I'm Ross Geldart. I run Mind Core Fitness out of a studio in Elgin, in the North of Scotland, and I spend most of my days helping people make real, lasting changes to their lives and their mindset.

But I didn't get here through a 12-week transformation plan or some fancy diet programme. I got here through nearly 20 years of figuring it out for myself.

Through most of my twenties, I was living for the weekend. I'd work hard through the week, then drink and use drugs to switch off. I told myself I'd earned it. I thought because I grafted Monday to Friday, the weekend stuff wasn't really a problem. But it was. The thing I thought was my reward was actually the thing keeping me stuck — and the reason I was so deeply unhappy.

When I finally started making changes, there was no single dramatic moment. I was 32 when I walked into a kickboxing gym for the first time, and that's where everything began to shift. It cleared my mind. It mended my mental health. And more than anything, it showed me what was possible when I actually put my mind to something. Kickboxing taught me discipline. It taught me awareness. It gave me a foundation I didn't know I'd been missing — and from that foundation, everything else started to change.

A couple of years later, that same discipline led me somewhere I never expected — music production. What started as a creative outlet became something far bigger. Over the course of seven years, I released over 150 tracks across multiple labels, collaborated with artists like Lexicon Avenue, and had my music supported by some of the biggest names in the scene — Sasha, John Digweed, James Zabiela, Anthony Pappa, and more. It taught me about creativity, patience, and the power of forming cleaner habits.

In 2020, I decided to take up running — and I loved it. Not just the physical side, but the mental game that came with it. The mind games you'd have with yourself. The same thought creeping in regardless of the distance — stop now, don't do it, you've done enough. The good old fear, talking you out of it, trying to get you to feel comfortable. Not for me. I don't like comfortable. So in 2021, I decided to enter the Loch Ness 10K. I needed a challenge, and it felt like the perfect starting point. I ran every second day for four months, and when the race was a week away, I felt ready. I was buzzing. I phoned my mate who was also doing the run to let him know I'd pick him up to go get our racing bibs and starter packs. What are you on about? he said. You only had to collect yours in person if you'd entered the full marathon. That's when the penny dropped. I'd entered a 26-mile run and trained for a 7-mile run. He asked if I'd still go ahead with it. My answer was simple: why not? Four hours and forty minutes later, I crossed the finish line of a marathon I'd never meant to enter. I didn't train for six months afterwards — it's safe to say my body was in bits. It was brutal. But it taught me a lot about mind over matter, and how you just have to start something. You're never ready. I went back and did it again two years later, finishing in four hours and eight minutes. After that one though, it's safe to say I haven't run since. Will I again? Maybe. We'll see.

Every one of those experiences taught me the same thing. It was never about being ready. It was about starting, and then refusing to stop. The changes I made were slow, messy, and far from perfect. But they worked. And over time, piece by piece, I became someone I actually recognised again.

That journey is the reason I became a personal trainer. Not because I've always been into fitness — but because I know what it feels like to be stuck and not have a clue where to start. I know what it's like to think the problem is motivation, when really the problem is everything else around it.

You don't have a motivation problem.

After working with over 200 people, I see the same thing again and again. People apologise. They apologise for not completing a set, for not being able to do a certain exercise, for nearly not showing up. And I always tell them the same thing — you don't need to apologise for any of that. The most important thing you did today was walk through that door. Form, strength, endurance — all of that comes with time. It comes with experience. It comes with your body developing. It's not about being perfect. It's about trying to improve, even just a little, every single day.

What I've come to realise is that the biggest thing holding most people back isn't laziness. It isn't a lack of willpower. It's perfectionism — and the fear of failure that comes with it. People are terrified of getting it wrong, of looking stupid, of not being good enough. And on top of that, they're bombarded. Every screen, every app, every influencer is telling them something different. Do this diet. Try this programme. Follow this routine. No wonder people feel overwhelmed. All most people actually need is one person to tell them one thing and hold them to it.

That's what I do.

I'm not here to shout at anyone or pretend I have all the answers. I'm just a grounded, honest person who tells people how it is. If you show up and you try, that's enough. We build from there.

I work with people one-to-one in my studio here in Elgin — that's where I do my best work, face to face, in person. I also coach people online. And I built an app called Core Buddy for anyone who wants to train on their own terms, in their own space, in their own time.

However you choose to start, the philosophy is the same. Stop chasing perfection. Stop waiting until you feel ready. Just begin, and let the rest follow.

You don't need to be ready. You just need to begin.