Mandy Williams on Stimming, Sport, and Smashing Age Stereotypes
Introduction
“I don’t like to go by age,” says Mandy Williams with a smile, “but I think it’s quite important for the conversation.” At 48, Mandy is training to break a world record in Hyrox when she turns 50. Diagnosed Autistic three years ago, she’s not just redefining what’s possible for late-blooming athletes—she’s rewriting the playbook on neurodivergent strength, energy, and joy.
In this open and empowering conversation, Mandy reflects on being a “Joy Warrior,” on reclaiming her childhood self, and on building a life—and a sporting identity—on her terms. We talk about everything from Ghostbusters posters and stimming in the gym to imposter syndrome, running backwards on the track, and the barriers that keep many Autistic athletes from stepping foot into clubs and competitions.
Mandy isn’t here to impress anyone. She’s here to show up, show joy, and show others what’s possible.
Finding Sport Later, Finding Self Sooner
For Mandy, sport arrived late—but when it did, it hit like a freight train.
“I didn’t grow up doing sport,” she admits. “I was sub on the B team at school, which was as low as it gets. I couldn’t hit a ball, couldn’t catch, and I was bullied. Team sports were a nightmare.”
It wasn’t until adulthood, after learning to fly planes during a special interest phase, that she began to run—first to pass an RAF medical, and later, after having children, to keep active. One marathon led to another.
“It became a rabbit hole,” Mandy smiles. “Running, pacing, eating, breathing—I wanted to know it all. I don’t like the word obsession, but it became my world.”
She didn’t even start racing on a track until she was 45.
“And I got a silver medal in my first track race,” she says, still amused. “Though I did line up the wrong way around, so that shows you how green I was.”
Stimming and Joy: Emotions in Motion
One of the most powerful parts of our conversation with Mandy was her openness about stimming—an often misunderstood behaviour that is rarely discussed in sports.
“For me, it’s an expression of joy. A huge rush. I’ll hold my hand up and tense it without even knowing I’m doing it. It’s not a choice, and it’s not a habit. I was told to sit on my hands as a kid. Now I’m like—no. I’m not hiding that anymore.”
She describes how sport magnifies these emotions.
“When I’ve nailed a pull-up or done a great sled push, I stim with pride. Sometimes I dance on the spot in the gym or get that weird face when I watch myself back on video. But I’m not stopping. Why should I?”
Mandy’s take on stimming highlights its emotional complexity:
“It’s not just anxiety. For me, it’s almost always pride. It’s my default setting—joy.”
The Masked Years: From Hiding to Healing
Mandy was diagnosed autistic at 45, after recognising traits in her son.
“I didn’t understand why I was still stimming or having meltdowns. My GP said, ‘I’ve known all along.’ I was like—why didn’t you tell me?!”
Her diagnosis unlocked a cascade of understanding.
“It didn’t create joy in me—I’ve always had that—but it allowed me to stop feeling like something was wrong with it. People used to call me eccentric, cheeky Mandy, always bouncing off the walls. Now I know: I’m not broken. I was just masking.”
This masking extended deep into her life.
“I wouldn’t even tell people I ran marathons or flew planes. I was afraid they’d laugh or not believe me. I had so much imposter syndrome.”
It’s a sentiment echoed by many late-diagnosed neurodivergent adults, particularly women.
“You’re living a half-truth. And those microaggressions add up. You carry them in your body.”
When Coaching Goes Wrong—and Right
Support systems are tricky for Mandy.
“I’m uncoachable. Well, sort of,” she laughs. “My partner’s a high-level runner. Tried to coach me once. Didn’t end well.”
What she needs, she says, is autonomy and clarity.
“My coach is online, and he’s brilliant. I get my plan every Sunday for the week. No surprises. If I want to change something, I can. But I need to know what’s coming.”
It’s a theme that runs through much of Mandy’s sport life: tell me why, show me how, don’t spring it on me.
“If I show up and don’t know the plan—or worse, have to stand around chatting for 20 minutes—it’s already game over.”
Solo Over Social: Rethinking the Club Model
Mandy joined a running club once. Once.
“I’d sit in the car, crying,” she admits. “Twenty minutes of standing around talking before we even started? No thanks. I was caffeinated and ready to go!”
She’s not anti-social—she’s anti compulsory socialising.
“I train alone or with my dogs. I love people. But training time is for training. Social time can be separate.”
It’s an important distinction that many coaches miss. Neurodivergent athletes often want connection—but on their own terms.
“Some of us learn best 1:1. Some of us get overstimulated in groups. It doesn’t mean we’re antisocial. It means we’re neurologically different.”
Environment > Cure
We touch on a contentious topic: the idea of curing autism.
“I love my brain,” Mandy says unequivocally. “I have anxiety, I have meltdowns—but I wouldn’t change who I am. The problem isn’t me—it’s the environment.”
She shares the simple equation she lives by: Autism + environment = anxiety.
“So change the environment,” she insists. “Not the person. Build systems that allow us to thrive.”
That includes things like scheduling, autonomy, and understanding the why.
“When I started a walking group with Swan (Scottish Women’s Autism Network), people joined because they knew what to expect. But nobody wanted to do running. Why? Because people worry they’ll get laughed at. That they’ll be judged.”
Menopause, Ageing, and Missing Role Models
Another topic close to Mandy’s heart is age.
“I’m nearly 50. Fittest I’ve ever been. Got a six-pack for the first time in my life,” she grins. “But there’s no visibility of older autistic women in sport. We talk about kids. But what about us?”
She advocates for more research into autism and menopause, especially in athletic populations.
“There’s so much benefit to strength training in this stage of life. But no one talks about our sensory needs, our barriers, our bodies.”
And then there’s the issue of role models.
“I’ve never had one,” Mandy says simply. “No one ever took me aside and said, ‘I believe in you.’ That’s why I’m doing this. Because someone out there needs to see me and know they can do it too.”
She pauses, then adds:
“I shouldn’t be the role model. I want someone older and even more badass to look up to! But if that’s not available yet, I’ll stand in until they arrive.”
Final Thoughts
Mandy is not asking for a spotlight—she’s creating one. For herself. For others. For autistic joy in sport.
“Don’t think you’re too old. Don’t think you can’t start. I’ve never been fitter in my life. I’ve never been more joyful. Just don’t come near me in the Hyrox 50+ category—I’m going for that title.”
Joy warrior. Stim queen. Reluctant role model. Mandy Williams is all of it—and proof that it’s never too late to become who you really are.
Follow Mandy on Instagram @mandywilliamsjw to see what she’s up to in the world of Hyrox!
Key Takeaways for Neurodivergent Individuals
You don’t need to follow the mainstream route
→ Success in sport doesn’t have to look the same for everyone. Your unique path is just as valid.
Structure your environment to suit you
→ Shape routines and spaces around your needs rather than forcing yourself to fit rigid systems.
It’s never too late
→ Starting or returning later in life can bring resilience, perspective, and strength.
Key Takeaways for Peers, Supporters, and Parents
Encourage, don’t control
→ Support works best when it builds confidence and independence, not when it dictates choices.
Respect unmasking
→ Hiding differences is exhausting; creating safety for someone to unmask is a huge act of support.
Withdrawn ≠ antisocial
→ Stepping back often means regulating overstimulation, not rejecting others.
Key Takeaways for Coaches, Leaders, and Organisations
Separate social from training
→ Not everyone thrives when focus and socialising are combined; keep them distinct where possible.
Show pathways for older athletes
→ Visible opportunities, especially for women, help break the myth that sport is only for the young.
Train staff on neurodivergence
→ Awareness of stimming, masking, and sensory needs makes coaching more effective and inclusive.
Originally a recorded interview, this blog post was written by Caragh McMurtry. Subheadings were added by the Neurodiverse Sport team to support readability.
