Burning ambition

Was my dream career going up in smoke?

2020-07-30 - Abi Hollyoake, 33, Camborne, Cornwall

s I heard the door close and the smoky smell hit the air, I knew it could only mean one thing. ‘Dad’s home!’ I grinned as he came in and sat down to take off his heavy shoes.

His face was smudged with soot, and he looked absolutely exhausted.

‘Hi, love,’ he smiled, and I scurried over to hear all about his shift.

It was the summer of 1997, and I was 10.

For as long as I could remember, my dad Steve, then 35, had been a firefighter.

I never got bored of his stories about brave rescue missions and huge flames. He was my hero.

‘Can girls be firefighters?’ I’d ask him when I visited the station and he helped me up in the fire engine. ‘Of course,’ he smiled. I decided, there and then, that I’d be one.

Only, as the years went by, my dream of following in my dad’s footsteps fell away. See, I’d always been curvy. But in my late teens my weight crept up.

I knew I’d need to get much fitter before I stood a chance of passing the gruelling fitness tests.

So instead, when I left school, I took a job as a support worker.

I met Todd, we married

Aat 21, and we had a son Mason in September 2007.

By now, my weight had crept up to 16st and I was a size 22.

Too big for my 5ft 8in frame.

Tired, I’d snack during the day on packets of biscuits and slices of toast.

I hated cooking and opted for ready meals from the freezer. Or we’d order a pizza or grab fish and chips.

I’d treat myself to a tub of ice cream, too.

Totally consumed with being a mum, there wasn’t much

‘me time’.

Especially when, in November 2011, our girl Evie arrived.

Life was busy.

Only, as much as I enjoyed my job, I yearned for my childhood dream.

‘Look into it,’ Todd encouraged.

‘Don’t be daft, I can’t even run for a bus,’ I scoffed.

As well as an interview, I’d need to take a bleep test, which measured my fitness and lung capacity. It involved running back and forth over a 20-metre stretch for 11 minutes before someone would press a bleeper. Only, the speed would increase until I’d have to run at full speed.

Breathless just walking up a flight of stairs, I knew I didn’t stand a chance.

I put all thoughts of ever joining the fire service out of my mind.

But I knew that I still needed to lose weight.

So, in the summer of 2015 I downloaded the ‘Couch to 5k’ app on my phone.

Nipping out when the kids were in bed, I walked for a minute, ran for a minute.

Each night, I went out for longer and ignored the voice in my head telling me people were watching.

After two months, I was enjoying it and had lost 2st.

Slowly, I started making diet changes, too. Swapped takeaways for chicken with vegetables.

By October 2017, I was running three times a week and I’d lost 5st.

Down to 11st and a size 12, I felt like a new woman. Then...

‘They’re recruiting for firefighters,’ Todd told me one night.

I was about to laugh, dismiss it entirely.

Only, I was much fitter now...

Was it worth a shot?

No chance! I was breathless just walking upstairs

alking into the local fire station, I could feel my hands grow clammy. ‘Ready?’ the firefighter asked as I took my place against the wall.

It was time for the dreaded bleep test.

My heart thumped as he held his stopwatch up. Bleep!

I raced as fast as I could to the other side of the room.

One lap, two, three...

As the beeps got quicker and quicker, I felt my legs tremble.

Running as fast as I could to reach the other side, I struggled to catch my breath.

Finally, the fireman said the test was over.

Panting, dripping with sweat, I lent over with my hands on my knees.

‘I didn’t pass, did I?’ I wheezed, looking up.

‘Afraid not, you’d need to go twice as fast,’ he said.

I’d given it my all, but it wasn’t good enough.

‘It’s something to work towards,’ Todd encouraged on the way home.

I couldn’t give up now. I had to wait three months

Wbefore I could take the test again. In the meantime, I stepped up my training. Did hill sprints on my evening runs, joined a gym.

In January 2018, when I took the test again, my time was only slightly faster.

‘Don’t give up,’

Dad soothed.

But by March 2019, I’d taken the test six times and still hadn’t passed. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do if I fail again,’ I gulped to Todd before my seventh test.

It was déjà vu, standing up against the wall, waiting for the sound of the stopwatch. Only, this time, after 10 minutes of running, my legs still felt strong. And I wasn’t struggling for breath.

As it came up to the 11th minute, I realised I’d been keeping up with the bleep.

‘Have I done it?’ I cried, dropping to the floor.

‘You certainly have,’ grinned the firefighter. I couldn’t believe it. Finally, after two years of hard work, I’d passed.

Only, that was just the first hurdle.

To be a firefighter, I had

more gruelling tests ahead.

Problemsolving, carrying heavy equipment, climbing a ladder...

But thanks to my training,

I passed everything.

Now it was time for the ‘rat run’.

Climbing into a metal container, blindfolded, I had to find my way out via tunnels and traps.

But, adrenaline pumping, I passed first time.