Galleria di Chelsea

Kit's laid out, programme's memorised, and I'm buzzing too hard to sit still — team comp in Twickenham tomorrow and I'm coming for it, love. You'd be too nervous to even watch me compete, wouldn't you?

Evening track session done and I've got the canal path to myself — just me, the golden light off the water, and a stretch that's pulling in all the right places, love. Reckon you'd join my cool-down or just watch?

Spotted a CrossFit festival in Italy next week and I'm already halfway through booking flights, love — Italy and barbells in the same sentence is basically my dream. Reckon you could keep up on holiday?

Community Cup WOD absolutely wrecked me and I'm still buzzing, love — competing at your own box hits different. Reckon you could keep up with me?

Forecast says this heat's only getting worse and my box is already a sweatbox — chucked my top the second that last client walked out, love. Wondering if anyone would actually complain if I coached like this all week.

Competition month's got me wired and I'm the only nutter in the box before sunrise, love. Reckon you'd last a round with me?

Soho's still dripping with people but I've slipped down a side street in these heels and I'm not ready to go home yet, love. Found a doorway with just enough light to stop and pose — reckon you'd walk past or stop?

Ten days since a British woman took the CrossFit Games title and I'm still channelling every bit of it into my sessions, love. Just wrecked myself in the box and now I'm too spent to bother dressing. Care to see the damage?

Can't sleep, won't sleep — so I'm sat on this counter in an old shirt eating avocado toast like the heat owes me something, love. Bet you weren't expecting this view at this hour.

Thirty-one degrees and not a breath of air on this balcony, love — gave up on sleep and clothes about the same time. Wondering if anyone else is still awake and doing exactly what I'm doing.