I’m Roo — Papa’s little girl turned powerhouse, raised to believe I could be anyone and do anything. A tomboy who once chalk-fought with the boys and later stood on stage in a Bollywood movie (a flop, but still fabulous). An adventurer who bungee-jumped in —5C New Zealand air, backpacked through Scotland, and climbed 14,000 ft peaks — just to see how far stubbornness could take me. An engineer who became a director, a dreamer who picked up a Viking husband on a backpacking trip, and now, the woman running an F45 studio where transformation happens daily. Through it all, one truth has stuck: life is messy, mischievous, and magnificent — and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’ve always carried that spirit of curiosity and rebellion. From eleven half-marathons to mountain runs that burned my lungs, from corporate boardrooms to EDM concerts with my cannabis company crew, from augmented reality labs to sweaty fitness floors — each chapter has been a reminder that reinvention isn’t just possible, it’s necessary.

For the past six years, F45 has been my stage — a place that taught me more about human inspiration, motivation, and psychology than any textbook ever could. It’s been a masterclass in impact, watching people walk in heavy and walk out lighter, stronger, and more confident. But now… the itch returns. That mischievous smirk creeping in, nudging me toward my next adventure.

And beneath it all, I’m learning to find peace in the chaos. How to stay fiercely driven toward my vision while remaining fully aligned with the present moment, content with where life has brought me. For years I was wired into constant gap analysis — obsessing over the distance between where I stood and where I wanted to be. Now, I’m practicing the art of the reverse gap — pausing to look back, to honor how far I’ve already come, and to let that recognition fuel me for what’s next.

These days, I try to savor the leather corner of my house, sip my Nescafé slowly, and wear a smile filled with gratitude. To feel both accomplished and restless, grounded and hungry — a paradox that I’ve already sparred over with my brother and a paradox, yes, but one that makes life far richer.

And in those moments, I’m rarely alone. My three cats, each a diva in their own right and each with a unique personality big enough to fill a room, remind me daily that life is meant to be playful, unpredictable, and unapologetically dramatic. Catwalk — I finally understand the meaning. Each of them strut like a Paris runway model, as if I should be paying them rent, or politely asking their permission before slipping into my own sheets (if it’s not too inconvenient, of course).

So if you stay a while here, you may catch me mid-thought, mid-adventure — or mid-negotiation with a cat who insists the sofa was never mine to begin with.