With her pink spiky hair, bright nails, tattoos and fun, cheery accessories, Alice Douglas is an undeniably colourful character. The Wakefield-based business owner, mum, musician and athlete is an innate multitasker; she’s capable, engaging and energetic, and her confidence and drive is very inspiring. But just a few years ago, Alice’s world was in tatters.
Words: Catherine Milford | Photos: Tessa Claus
“I was never one of the cool kids at school – I was a pale-skinned redhead, and I wasn’t academic, sporty, musical or good-looking, so I never really knew where I ‘fit’, but I had a good, wholesome childhood,” says Alice, 40, who grew up in Christchurch with her parents and three brothers, Jeremy, Matthew and Hayden. “We went to church every Sunday, had lots of family holidays. It was just a happy Kiwi childhood.”
Alice met her husband Jason, whom she married in 2009, and the pair began building their business. Life was rosy, safe… normal. But two weeks before Alice’s 30th birthday, one event set off a traumatic run of events that nearly destroyed her.
“In January 2016, our first son was nine months old, and my stepdaughter was eight. Jason and I had bought a third business, and I was trying to juggle semi-full-time work with breastfeeding, when I got a call from Matthew to say Hayden was in a bull-riding accident,” recalls Alice. “It was a practice training night – the bull reared, and Hayden’s head connected with the bull’s head. Matt saw it happen, and called me to say they were on their way to Christchurch Hospital, and could we tell Mum what had happened, and pack a bag as we were likely to be there for a while.” With doctors unsure if he’d survive the night, Hayden was put on life support.
Hayden underwent brain surgery, and although he survived, he had to relearn everything, including how to walk and talk. He had to start again,” Alice says tearfully. “It really shattered the family.”
But this was just the beginning. Six months later, Alice and Jason found themselves at the start of two stressful court cases over a business issue, and in September, Alice’s nana was diagnosed with cancer, passing away just two months later. “Between 2016 and 2022, four people in my life were diagnosed with cancer, and we went to seven funerals – an entire generation of the family was gone in just a few years,” Alice tells.
Then in October 2017 – 18 months after Hayden’s accident - Alice’s dad was injured at Matt’s sawmill. “Mum rang me to say Dad had had an accident. Nobody saw it so we don’t know exactly what happened, but when he was found, he couldn’t remember his own name, and then he collapsed, so Matt did another ambulance run, this time to take Dad to Rangiora Hospital,” she recalls shakily. “When Hayden had his accident I was running back and forth to the ICU with a new baby in a pram; when Dad had his, I was running back and forth to ICU again, with a second baby in a pram. It was like déjà vu – I felt I was reliving Hayden’s accident all over again.” At the same time, Alice and the family were still trying to care for Hayden, who was still in rehab.
The tears come frequently when Alice tells her story. “I’ve come to realise that crying is normal – it’s just my way of coping with grief,” she explains. “You just live with it. For a long time I thought there might be a day it wouldn’t bother me, but it always does. I’ve learned to talk through it.”
Juggling small babies and business issues that Alice describes as ‘horrific’ at the same time as such major family crises soon took their toll. “Dad started having seizures – he had nine in total, so I’d always be packing up the kids and rushing to catch a flight, or going on long car trips.
“Looking back, I know now I was in survival mode. I kept telling myself to box on – just chuck on your lipstick and pearls and keep moving,” she says. “There was no self-care – I was eating bad food and relying heavily on caffeine and alcohol – but I didn’t really realise I was cracking.” In 2019, she and Jason also took in a troubled foster child, a decision she says in hindsight was “the straw that broke the camel’s back”.
Alice admits there were moments over the next few years she struggles to talk about. “There were some dark times. I’d be at my desk at work, not actually crying but with tears rolling down my face. I’d pull into the driveway of my beautiful, 10-acre property after work with the sun shining, and I literally wouldn’t know what to do.
“I became a monster; I’d yell, swear and scream at the kids and Jason – I was awful. I even got to the point of thinking of ways I could end it, but I knew I couldn’t ever do that to my kids – I never wanted them to have to deal with their mother doing something like that for the rest of their lives.”
It was only when a friend mentioned she’d been seeing a psychiatrist that Alice accepted she needed help. “It had never occurred to me before, but for some reason, on that day in 2020, I thought – there’s a good idea!” she laughs. “The counsellor was perfect – I sat down with her, and I completely and animalistically lost it. I was completely broken.”
After several sessions, the counsellor put Alice on medication, which she reluctantly took. “I didn’t want to be numb, but I wasn’t functioning without it so I thought I’d give it a try.” Two weeks later, she had her first breakthrough.
Alice had been loud and rebellious when she was younger – “I’d actually been suspended twice from school, and the third time I left of my own accord so I wouldn’t have an expulsion on my record,” she remembers. “But counselling and medication changed everything.
“I felt like the drapes had been pulled back on a sunny day in my mind. I was happy. I hadn’t felt like that in a long time – including before all the dramas started happening. I realised that this whole time, I’d always tried to please others, done what was expected of me, and been conservative and quiet. I’d been living in a box – and I didn’t belong in a box.”
The first external change came in the form of a few pink streaks in her hair. “I was ecstatic!” she laughs. “I’d always wanted pink hair as an adult, but as a child I’d never really worn pink at all.”
Soon, bits of pink clothing started to appear, and within six months, Alice was transformed. The long red hair was replaced with a pink, short, spiky cut, and she got her first tattoo, of a large tiger on the back of her shoulder. “I saw these amazing, edgy women in their 60s who are looking amazing and thought – I’m doing it. And I loved getting the tattoo - tattoos tell stories, they are part of you – I can’t wait to get more. I have a shopping list of them!”
Piercings came next, followed by bracelets. “Bracelets like these are made for kids, so I made them for myself and I wear them everywhere!” she laughs. Having previously only worn a plain wedding band, she began buying coloured rings from cheap jewellery shops and wore them on whatever finger they’d fit. “I got a lot of grief from family and friends at the start – they didn’t know what on earth I was doing – but they understand this is just who I am now,” she smiles.
Once Alice came out of her physical cocoon, the rest followed. “I wanted to get off the meds, so decided I needed to get fit. I hadn’t set foot in a gym for about 10 years, so one day, when Jason was away, I asked my mother-in-law to take the kids, threw on the only things in my wardrobe that would fit, and went to the gym at 6am.
“It was so scary – I didn’t know anyone, didn’t know how to warm up or anything. I was completely unaware of my body.” But the loud music and the positive atmosphere was a huge draw for Alice, and nine months later she felt confident enough to stop her medication.
She continued at the gym for three years. “I looked so good. I was so proud of my stomach!” she says. But in July 2024, the gym class that had served her so well closed down. “I was devastated - it was like closing the doors on an alcoholic’s pub!” she grins. “It had become my medication.”
Unwilling to give up now she’d got this far, Alice set up a home gym, and found inspiration in motivational US speaker, athlete and ultra-marathon runner David Goggins. “It just clicked for me – he, as a human, had made decisions to make himself that way, and I realised that I could do the same. I could be whoever I wanted.”
Three days later, Alice walked 16km for the first time. “It was crazy, walking from Wakefield to Brightwater and back, having never walked before,” she laughs. That was followed by a half-marathon, which she did with Jason. “I stayed up until midnight, absolutely pinging while Jason was asleep, looking on my phone for the next one!” she laughs. “I just felt – I had done something. I’m not dumb, I can be whoever I want to be. I finally did something.”
Running and trail walking became Alice’s escape. “2025 was another stressful year, and I felt on the verge of losing it a few times. Running is a nervous system strategy that quietens my mind,” she explains. She signed up for several events including the 2025 Nelson Marathon, and when that was cancelled, she set her sights on running 100km in the Nelson road and trail running event The Spectacle.
Alice’s training began in September - for a December event. “Way too late, of course, but trail runs are a head game and I knew I could do a head game,” she says. True to form, she began by completing a highly ill-advised 35km solo trail run, which took her 10 hours to complete. “Given I couldn’t read a map, it was a huge risk.”
Next up was a 65km all-night return trip between Wakefield and Atawhai. “It took me 15 hours, and I had an epic emotional breakdown when I did it, but I knew if I could do that, I could do The Spectacle,” she says.
And she did. “I wanted to quit within the first 55km!” she laughs. “But the only way out was through. I’d chosen to do it, paid to be here and bought all my gear – and there were people there, including Jason, who were there to support me. I wasn’t going to let anyone down.”
Despite all the setbacks and the emotional turmoil, Alice is still full-on. Alongside her business, she plans to run more events, including this year’s Spectacle 100 mile (161km). She’s built a home music studio, where she works on songs during evenings and weekends that she initially recorded in her darker days. “The songs I write are about going through difficult times, when everything felt insurmountable,” she says. She’s also building The Phoenix Code, a digital product designed to help people make real changes in their lives.
“It’s about being who you are on the outside, using fitness to get mentally strong, and learning how to never give up,” she says. “Changing the way I did things was very hard, as we are so trapped in conservatism – I never felt I had ‘permission’ to be different.
“I try to keep my look as feminine as possible because that’s what I like, but I reckon everyone should follow their own rules and wear what they like. The truth is, nobody gives you permission to change – it has to come from you. I’m sharing my story because I want people to know it’s OK to discover another side of yourself. You just have to keep moving, and keep trying.”
