This adventure started with the simple idea to help people get better at things.

Since I’m a cognitive narcissist,  I figured I should help myself too.

Way Back. 

Outside the bar, I was flipping the lucky from my second pack that night. Thinking I have a lot of luck coming if I’m smoking 2 packs a day. I tilt my head, cup the flame, and light what would be the last cigarette I ever had. How would I had known? I was often the chain smoker that accepted these things would kill me one day. I eventually went back in the bar, and if you knew me, eventually I needed a ride home. Suddenly, it’s 3 days later and suddenly I can’t stand the smoke anymore. My stomach would simply churn like a warmed cement mixers (baileys and lime). Turns out the nicotine patches can grant vivid lucent dreams at night. Armed with a McDonald’s straw cut to cigarette length and some new found luck, I decide to take advantage of an opportunity.

Rising Like A Phoenix,

It’s a year later and I still hadn’t had a cigarette or even think about them anymore. I realized how awesome breathing is. Sounds dumb, but the simplest things can devolve into complexities by thought. Now I'm standing cold AF, with a stupid fake beard that I definitely ate fibers from. I blow hot air over my gloves, which did nothing. I click play on my trusty iPod cuffed to me, and I start the first race of my life.  I run my first 5k! That Santa Hustle was a pivotal day. It marked my change.  Sub 30 minutes, I never walked, but it was mine. I earned it. I did a thing.

There are weird emotional moments when you are proud of what you become. Like genuine excitement. Like that person in the mirror smiles at you. I felt amazing. I could breathe again. I was unstoppable. Then I was hooked and ran the following.

Rave Run/Color Run/Shamrock Shuffle/Muddy Buddy/Solider Field 10 mile (I cried here)/Urbanathon (Goal 2 hour— 1:58)/Tough Mudder/Ragnor (twice)

[I was last leg once and finished in my Spider-Man shirt. Went to get a beer and no id. Had to walk 2 miles and back for that damn beer!]
But then planters fasciitis, knees not great, tight hips.  I was falling apart and starting to hate running.  I took extra days off. Kept getting worried I was going to get hurt again or get worse.

The Unexpected Step

A friend pointed me to her escape place. Corepower Yoga. I thought fine. I’m just about running 5ks as a warmup and erratically lifting weights at Planet Fitness. How hard could it be? It's yoga. A hot room full of limber people and we breathe.  I'm good at breathing. I spoke about it a little up the page… at lengthen before.

I’m dumb. And I don't breathe so well.

Sculpt destroyed me! I had 5s and 8s. Higher than other 3s and 5s. I’m a man and do manly things like running and yoga. I left the room twice because I was so tired and literally could not take the heat. I felt like such a blowhard failure.  Talk all this game and couldn't even get close to what I saw. I wanted to get better. I need to learn how to breathe again.

Membership was expensive. Though a fair amount of white men from the suburbs would think otherwise, this white man from the burbs can’t afford it. I cleaned… a lot. Went to any and every class I could. I fell on my face so much, I’m convinced it’s flatter. I fought for 6months to hold Flying Frog for 60 seconds. Years later, I won a happy hour bet on that. It was an amazing time. Moving the best I could. Hips weren’t as tight. Balance was topple-less. I was there almost everyday.  I stopped running because my focus was different.  I evolved to a new person. So much studio time, a friend recruited me into instructor training.  Figured I could make a little money since I was there so much.

It didn't stop at on training. Went on to get.

Yoga Sculpt/Spin/Spinterval (ask me about this one)/200 hour yoga cert (RYT)/Restorative

Then taught at:

Corepower (if it wasn’t implied)/Yoga by Degrees/SPENGA

Beer Yoga (Not a place. Just a reminder I teach beer yoga)

Cut to COVID. 

Now a decade since my last cigarette. Getting big as a house and still thinking I was 20% body fat. More like close to 30%. Ate poorly. Moved well from yoga training and ensured I moved the way I wanted to move.  I had a little power because mass moves mass. I watched a lot of tv. I taught, but didn’t have a drop of  motivation. Then COVID-19 started.

COVID taught me that there is time to get better. Want to write better? Write more. Wish you read more. Then read. The excuse I didn’t have time was not an excuse anymore. Don't let yourself think the world is shit. Go do some good. Get better.

I got fat and I had no excuse anymore. (voice in my head: “WTF happened! You were running borderline half marathons. You were the man. What are you trying to become now?) I had worked out in the past and needed a diet. Never ran a program. Leg day was cardio day. Just moving weights for 3 sets of 10 regardless of the exercise. I never added any real muscle from it. But I wanted to feel stronger. I wanted to get better. I watched videos or read blogs. Days/weeks of YouTube content. Powerlifters, bodybuilders, fitness influencers, nutrition content, diets, etc. I watched them all. I started to plan a progression program. Aligned my goals. Tried, failed and realigned my goals to something realistic. Wanted in on the 1000’s club. Practiced bench, squat, and deadlift. Found my problem and worked though it. Studied more. I wanted to get better. I made the time. I wanted to learn. (I need 10 pounds 250 BP/450 DL/335 S [145 OHP this don’t count])

So I went out and did something

Certified Personal Trainer with NASM.

Time for business. How could people of my past not get me on this sooner? It’s a weird thought that I wouldn’t own a business at this point in life. Took me long enough to find the pieces. I wanted a job that I would love to do even after I retire. Help others. Learn new things. Get better at something. Let's get better together!