Kayla Stomberg

I started martial arts when I was 4 because I was completely obsessed with Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. I wanted to be just like Kimberly, the Pink Ranger. That was the whole reason. What’s ironic is that I’ve always been much more of an introvert than an extrovert.

‍

I hated being “front and center.” Standing in front of people felt uncomfortable, which is funny considering I now coach for a living.
‍

For the first four years training under Charlie McShane and Josh Hesser, I barely spoke. I basically only said “yes sir” or “no sir.” My nickname was “FritzBot” — robotic, quiet, no visible personality, zero self-confidence.

‍

Then one day after I got my license I walked up to Coach McShane and asked for a job. He said, “Come back Tuesday.” And that was it.

I’ve kind of morphed from that shy, quiet kid into a school owner who now works to build up other quiet introverts — the ones who don’t naturally demand attention but have so much potential.

‍

I also joke (but not really) that martial arts was the only sport I was good at, so I stuck with it. I’m 5’2” and wildly unathletic by most standards. But something about martial arts just clicked for me.

‍

Movement makes sense to me in the context of kickboxing and self-defense. If I can relate something back to how I move there, I can usually figure it out. I’m also a mom of two stubborn, driven, amazing kids who will probably both be taller than me by the time they’re 10 — thanks to my 6’6” husband.

For a long time, I was my own worst enemy. I believed everything had to be “all in” all the time — building our home, opening a business, raising two kids, training, teaching.

‍

If I wasn’t exhausted, I felt like I wasn’t doing enough. That mindset eventually led to burnout, chronic migraines, fibromyalgia, and mental health struggles.

The turning point came during my first time presenting at Transcend Fest, a yoga and wellness festival. Being surrounded by mindfulness and balance forced me to confront how I was living.

‍

I realized strength doesn’t have to mean constant intensity, and slowing down isn’t weakness. Since then, I’ve learned to lead and train from a place of balance and self-compassion instead of depletion — and my physical and mental health are better because of it.

I coach because I know what it feels like to be the quiet one in the room. I’m especially passionate about serving the kids and adults who don’t see themselves as naturally athletic, loud, or dominant — the ones who might stand in the back at first.

‍

I understand them because I was them. My purpose is to help people build real, practical self-defense skills while developing steady confidence — not ego, not intimidation, but the kind of confidence that carries into school, work, and everyday life.

I’m motivated by growth. Watching someone who once doubted themselves move with certainty, use their voice, or step forward when they would have previously stepped back — that’s why I coach.

‍

If you’re looking for a coach who values discipline, grit, and technical skill — but also balance, sustainability, and mental resilience — then I’m the right fit for you.