I was the fat kid. Picked last, picked on, picked apart. Long before I understood what a "coping mechanism" was, food had already become mine; a pattern that kept me physically unhealthy, mentally unstable, and emotionally weak for far longer than I'd like to admit.

Wrestling was the first crack of light. For the first time, my body was a tool instead of a target. That spark turned into an obsession with training, and eventually into competitive bodybuilding, but the road there was messy. I chased every "answer" — intermittent fasting, keto, CrossFit, powerlifting, supplement gimmicks. None of it stuck, because I wasn't trying to get better. I was trying to outrun who I used to be.

Bodybuilding is what finally gave me structure, identity, and purpose. Then I was diagnosed with epilepsy, and health stopped being optional — it became survival. I made a decision early on that epilepsy doesn't get to run the show. That decision became the core of what I believe — you should never let your struggle become your identity.

This is where my mission was born.

Today I'm married, running my own coaching business, and quietly building what's next behind the scenes. I'm not telling you this because I've got it all figured out; I'm telling you because I don't, and I still show up anyway. I'm not a finished product. I'm proof you don't have to be one to start.

That's the whole reason I coach.

I've stood on both sides of the mirror — the version of me that hid, and the version that finally showed up. My mission is to help people get to that second version faster than I did so I can stop people from chasing quick fixes. To prepare them to build something real. Not just a physique — a foundation. The body, the mindset, and the identity underneath it all.