The Bottom
In my teens through my mid-twenties, I was in a low place. Depressed, unmotivated, not driven toward anything. I felt lost. There wasn't a dramatic moment that flipped a switch — no rock bottom, no doctor's warning. I just remember thinking: I don't want to feel like this forever. I have so much life left.
At the time I was close to 300 pounds, but if I'm honest, that wasn't really the point. This didn't start about how I looked. It started because I felt terrible, and I wanted to feel like a person again.
The First Step
One day, in the middle of a July heatwave, I brought my running shoes to work and ran on my lunch break. That's it. That was the whole plan.
I kept doing it. A few weeks later, I started bringing oatmeal for breakfast instead of whatever I'd normally grab. Small shift by small shift, I kept adjusting my day to help me feel a little better than the day before.
Over about 18 months, I lost over 100 pounds.
The Part Nobody Sees
I felt victorious. I was thin, people kept complimenting how I looked, clothes fit differently — all the things that are supposed to feel like winning.
But what I was actually doing was aggressively under-eating, and I didn't know it. I'd become obsessed with a number on a scale, and that obsession did real damage on the inside that had nothing to do with how I looked on the outside. It led to doctor visits, bloodwork, procedures — trying to figure out what was going on in a body I thought was "healthy" simply because it was thin.
That was one of the most important lessons of my life: thin and healthy are not the same thing. I didn't know that then. I want the people I coach to know it from day one.
Rebuilding, the Right Way
That experience pushed me into the next chapter — going from just under 300 pounds down to around 170, and then deliberately building back up: more food, more protein, real training, real muscle. That's been the last 7 years of my life, through a lot of different phases, always refining the approach.
I've spent an enormous amount of time studying this — pro bodybuilders, athletes, sports scientists, coaches — because I never wanted to operate on guesswork again. I did this for myself first. Somewhere along the way, friends, family, and coworkers started asking for help, and I started coaching without ever meaning to become "a coach."
Learning My Body the Hard Way
Along the way, I didn't just deal with the mental side of this — my body pushed back too. I went through two serious back injuries, an annular tear and a disc herniation, plus a handful of smaller injuries in my knees, elbows, and hamstrings.
I did the physical therapy. But a lot of it felt cookie-cutter — the same generic exercises regardless of what my body actually needed — and it didn't leave me with much hope that I'd get back to real training. So I started doing the research myself, testing what actually helped versus what didn't, and slowly built an approach through real trial and error, specific to my own body.
I still have to stay on top of certain things today to keep my back and joints healthy. That's not a flaw in the story — it's part of it. I bring this up because I want people who've dealt with injuries, old or current, to know this isn't a dead end. With the right plan, careful progression, and paying attention to what your specific body needs, real progress is still absolutely possible.
While Life Kept Going
None of this happened in a bubble where fitness was my only priority. Through this entire journey I finished my degree, got accepted into a difficult certificate program, and have been promoted multiple times in my career. I'm not saying that to brag — I'm saying it because I know exactly what it's like to try to build a body and a life at the same time, with a full 9-to-5 in the middle of it.
It takes real effort. It's not easy. But if I could do it while working full-time and building a career, you can build this into your life too. I'm not built differently than you — I just made it a daily priority, one small choice at a time.
Why I Coach
This started as something about how I felt — the depression, the anxiety, the sense that something was missing — not about chasing abs or a number on a scale. That's the part I want people to really hear: the process of training and eating well isn't just about your body. Done right, it changes your mind too.
That's what I want to help you build. Not a crash, not an extreme — a version of this that actually fits your real life, and makes you feel like yourself again.