MOUNTAIN MEN Summit GOLD

The photo on the left was taken on a night I'd rather forget. I wasn't just carrying the weight, I was carrying the mood that came with it — flat, short with everyone, no interest in anything. I started the gummies because a mate wouldn't stop going on about them, and the first thing that shifted wasn't my waist, it was my head. About three weeks in I noticed I was getting up before the alarm instead of fighting it. The training started to actually stick after that, and the belly came off over the next few months. Look at the two pictures though — the stomach is the small part of it. It's the face. I look like myself again.

Six months ago I was carrying a proper spare tyre and just felt flat and self-conscious. The photo on the right is me now - the belly's gone, there's real definition coming through, and honestly I just feel happy in my own skin again. That smile isn't for the camera, it's how I feel every day now. Best decision I've made.

I want to be honest about where I started because I think a lot of blokes are sitting exactly where I was. I'd been in a gym on and off for six years and had almost nothing to show for it. Not overweight, just soft and flat, the sort of body that looks the same whether you train or you don't. I'd convinced myself I had bad genetics and that was that. What actually changed for me was recovery. On the gummies I stopped waking up feeling like I'd been hit by a van after leg day, and because I was recovering I could finally train four or five times a week instead of three at half effort. Then the strength started climbing. Bench went from a shaky 70kg to 100kg for reps over about seven months, and my shoulders and chest finally started filling out my shirts. The picture on the right was taken on a Tuesday, no pump, no clever lighting. My girlfriend keeps telling me I stand differently now and she's right. Six years of nothing and then this. I only wish I'd sorted my testosterone out at 25 instead of 31.

Started this a total sceptic - glasses, gut, zero energy. A few months on and I'm down a good stone, back in the gym four times a week, and actually putting muscle on for once. The difference between the before and after still surprises me. The energy to train is the thing that changed everything for me.

Twenty-five years old and I looked forty. Now I've got abs for the first time in my life and I'm actually excited to train instead of talking myself out of it. Same bloke, ten months apart. That's it, that's the review.

If you'd shown me the 'after' photo a few months ago I'd have laughed - that was never happening for me. I'd always been the big lad, carrying weight I couldn't shift no matter what I tried. This changed the whole game. The energy and drive it gave me meant I actually trained hard and stuck to it, and the fat just kept coming off. I've gone from hiding under my t-shirt to a six-pack I never thought I'd see. Family First is inked on my chest, and now I'm the dad who can actually keep up with the kids. Completely life-changing, no exaggeration.

Been carrying that belly for the best part of twenty years and I'd made peace with it. Nine months on these and most of it has gone. Getting off the sofa doesn't involve a groan anymore.

The love handles were the one thing I could never shift - you can see them in the before shot. A few months on and my waist's tighter, my back's wider and more defined, and I'm a hundred times more confident with my top off. Chuffed to bits.

Side-on was always the worst angle for me, proper overhang. Took one every morning since March last year, walked more, cut the beer back. Same shorts in both photos and I stand up straighter in them.

Sceptical is putting it mildly, I've wasted money on this sort of thing before. Seven months in and I'm the smallest I've been in years. Nothing dramatic week to week, it just kept going.

Fifty years old and I'd made my peace with it. That's what they tell you, isn't it — this is just what happens, slow down, accept it. I was tired by two in the afternoon every single day, I'd put a stone around my middle in three years without changing anything, and I'd genuinely stopped expecting to feel good. My wife will tell you I was becoming a miserable old man. I started on these more out of stubbornness than hope. The energy came back first and that alone would have been worth it — no more sitting in the car park after work gathering myself before going in the house. Then over about eight months the weight came off my stomach and, to my complete surprise, muscle came back. Not twenty-year-old muscle, but the arms and chest in that second picture belong to a man who is not finished. I'm lifting weights I couldn't lift at thirty-five. I sleep properly. I'm good company again. If you're my age and you've been told this is just how it goes now, I'd have a very hard think about that.

This is the one I never thought I'd write. I was a big, bearded bloke pushing seventeen stone, knackered all the time and pretty low with it. The photo on the right is me a few months later and I still can't quite believe it - the belly's gone, I've got a six-pack, my face has leaned right out, and I feel about ten years younger. The energy and drive it gave me is what got me off the sofa and into the gym in the first place. My wife says she's got a new husband. It's turned my whole life around.

Spent good money on the ink and then spent five years covering it with a belly. That's the joke I make now anyway. The real story is that I was training hard and getting nowhere, and I was so sore between sessions that I was basically training once and then recovering for four days. That changed within about a month on these. Less soreness, more sessions, and the strength went up quickly after that. Everything tightened up over the year. The tattoos sit on something now instead of just sitting there.

My lad asked why I was out of breath kicking a ball about with him. That was the push I needed. Coming up ten months of these and the gut that used to sit over my jeans has gone.

Same mirror, same wardrobe, eleven months apart. What the pictures don't show is that in the first one I was avoiding every mirror in the house and in the second one I stopped to take a photo on purpose. Big change in the body, bigger change in the head.

I asked for the side-on shot because that was always the angle I couldn't lie to myself about. Front on I could suck it in. From the side it was just there. Hitting forty was the wake-up, but wanting to change and having the drive to actually do it are two very different things and I was short on the second one. That's what these gave me back more than anything. The motivation stopped being something I had to manufacture every morning. Twelve months later here's the same angle. I don't need to suck anything in.

44 and I'd resigned myself to the dad bod. Not anymore. The photo on the right is a few months on - leaner, abs coming through, chest more defined, and a good bit more confident in the mirror of a morning. The steady energy all day is what kept me consistent. Really pleased I gave it a go.

Look where those two pictures were taken and you'll understand the whole thing. The first one is me at home against a blank wall because there was no chance I was letting anyone see me. I'd joined three different gyms over the years and quit all three within a fortnight, not because it was hard but because I felt like everyone was looking at me. The second one is on the gym floor on a Saturday morning with the place full. I didn't even think about it until afterwards. What actually got me there was the energy, honestly. I stopped feeling wiped out at four in the afternoon, started walking more, then started going in at seven before work and by the time the weight was coming off I'd stopped caring who was watching. Down just over three stone. But the bit I'd tell anyone about is that I go to the gym now the way you'd go to the shop. It's just a thing I do. Fifteen years of that being impossible and now it's nothing.

Heavily tattooed and I'd let a gut creep in that was ruining the ink, if I'm honest. A few months on this and the midsection's tightened right up, the belly's down, and the tattoos look how they should again. Feel so much better for it.

My missus took the first picture and I made her delete it off her phone. Glad I kept a copy now. I was heavy, I was irritable, and I was snapping at people who didn't deserve it — that was the part that bothered me most. The mood lifted before the weight did, which I wasn't expecting at all, and once I wasn't dragging myself around all day the training and the food sorted themselves out. Two and a half stone down and my chest and arms actually look like I lift. My kids have got a different dad now, and I mean that in a good way.

I was never the big lad. That's what made it so frustrating — on paper I was fine, normal weight, nobody would have called me overweight, but I had that soft middle that no amount of gym work would shift and I'd been chasing it for years. Same mirror in both these, about ten months apart. I didn't lose much weight at all, that's the thing. The scale barely moved. What changed is what the weight is made of. The gummies were the first thing that made my training actually build something instead of just maintaining me, and once that clicked the middle sorted itself out on its own. I got the sleeve finished last spring and for once I was happy to have my top off to show it.

Two photos, same spot in my front room, fourteen months between them. If you look above my head in the second one you'll see the bar I put up, and that little detail is the whole story really. When the first picture was taken I had a gym membership I'd used four times in a year and a backpack by the door I kept meaning to fill. It wasn't that I didn't want it. I was forty-two, I had two kids under ten, and by the time the house was quiet I had absolutely nothing left in me. I'd sit down at half nine and that was the day gone. What the gummies gave me first was that hour back. I started using it, badly at first, just pressups and a few dumbbells, and once I could feel myself getting stronger I put the bar up and it turned into a proper habit. Four stone off over the year and a good bit of muscle on with it — look at my shoulders and legs in the second one compared to the first, that's not just the weight coming off. I'm forty-two and I'm in better shape than I was at twenty-five, and I got there in my front room after the kids went down. No excuses left for anyone.

I was already big. That was never the problem. The problem was I'd been big and covered up for about six years and I'd started to think the abs underneath were a myth. Turns out they were there the whole time. Same size, completely different body.

53, big round belly, tired all the time. Now I'm flexing in the photo like an idiot, because I've got arms worth flexing for the first time in thirty years. Chest is solid, stomach is flat, and I'm lifting weights I couldn't touch at 25. The drive is what changed first, though — I've got that itch to get up and do something again. My lads can't believe it. Neither can I, some mornings.