🌍✨ Rebecca Willow Evans: The Indomitable Spirit of Fitness & Travel ✨🌍

Hey, you. Yeah, you. Stumbling into my space like a lost traveler finding an oasis in the desert? Hold on to your hats, darling. This is not your average fitness coach bio—this is a story. A story about sweat, soul, and serendipity.

With a rebel heart and a passport full of stamps, I have been pursuing sunsets, deadlifting in exotic locations, and teaching women how to own their strength—inside and out, for nearly a decade. From the neon lights of Tokyo to the misty mountains of Patagonia, I have been wild and free, leaving behind glitter, dumb bells, and sometimes my common sense. 💪🏼✈️

Fitness is not just about having the perfect ass (though, hell yes, we will get you one); it's about the feeling of being alive. That feeling when your lungs burn, your heart is pounding and you have the revelation—oh shit, I am capable of anything. That is the shit I live for. And darling, I am going to drag you kicking and screaming into that shit.

But let's keep it real—I'm not some idealistically polished, filter-perfect guru. I have eaten questionable street food (RIP to my stomach in Bangkok), I have got lost at least 100 times, and once even cried in a hostel bathroom because burpees are the devil. But that, my friend, is the beauty of it, right? The mess, the grit, the realness. That is where the growth happens. 🌱

When I am not coaching other bad-ass women or searching for my next adventure, you can find me trying on vintage Levi's, drinking way too much matcha (not a complaint, it's basically my job), or making plans to smuggle my favorite kettlebells onto a sailboat. Priorities, people.

So, are you ready to flip the script? To swap excuses for endorphin's and actually live (like you mean it)? Cool. Let's go. 🔥

PS: If you are looking for a basic bitch, swipe left. This is a no bullshit zone