Stage 5: The Journey

This was the turning point, where I decided that half-measures were no longer enough—I had to go all in. Despite my fused back, bad knees, multiple foot surgeries, terrible posture, and giant beer belly, I knew that joining the Navy would be an uphill battle. The officer recruiter tasked me with losing 60 pounds, and I started with the simplest thing I could do—walking. Every day, I walked more and more, gradually pushing my limits. After three weeks, I began jogging half a mile at a time. It was a grind, but I kept at it, determined to prove to myself that I could overcome the odds.

I started cooking my meals—healthy, tasteless dishes because I was still learning how to make nutritious food that I actually enjoyed. I tracked my calories religiously and tried just about every diet you can think of, falling into some traps along the way but always clawing my way out. I wasn’t perfect. I had cheat days and tough moments, but I never let myself skip twice. I knew that if I let one bad day turn into two, it would spiral into another bad habit, and I couldn’t afford that.

I lost 60 pounds in about six months, despite being injured much of the time. My body had been through hell, and I dealt with achilles issues, foot pain, and setbacks that made progress slow and painful. I sought help from various foot doctors and did extensive stretching and rehab, but I never let the pain stop me from moving forward. I trained with an Army Ranger friend, showing up every day, even when I was hurting, because I knew that quitting wasn’t an option.

It wasn’t just about losing weight. I had to change my entire mindset. I learned the truth about nutrition, understanding that real change came from consistency and pushing through discomfort. I went even further, realizing that challenging myself—both mentally and physically—was the only way to truly transform my life.

During this time, a woman kept mentioning a guy named David Goggins. She said I reminded her of him because of how crazy my efforts seemed. When I finally read his book, I felt a deep connection—here was someone else who had a traumatic childhood, who had every reason to give up but chose to go radical instead. It was like fuel to my fire. Knowing I wasn’t alone in this kind of transformation gave me the push I needed.

Eventually, the Navy said no. In fact, all branches said no due to my past, and I was devastated. But that rejection was the best thing that could’ve happened. They didn’t see the value I knew I had, but that’s just it—I finally saw it. I knew what I was worth, and what others failed to recognize was no longer a problem for me. So after feeling down for literally 30 minutes, I smiled and said, “fuck it, I welcome it.” It was the fuel I needed. I had gotten to a point where I loved hearing “no.” I loved working tirelessly on something and not obtaining it. At a subatomic level, I could see how these letdowns were making me stronger. Failure no longer existed in my world—I used every shitty moment as fuel instead of letting them hijack my progress or my will to carry on. Every setback became the energy I needed to keep crafting my masterpiece. I was addicted to challenging myself. I wanted more growth, more setbacks, more people to think I was crazy. It was all fuel for me.

So, I decided to move to Argentina, start an online business, and continue challenging myself in every way possible. I began running ultramarathons in the Andes Mountains—a far cry from the man who once couldn’t walk a mile without pain. The journey was brutal. My back was fused, and I was injured most of the time. I went through physical therapy with multiple specialists, battling complex injuries tied to years of neglect and obesity. Every time I faced a new setback, I fought harder.

I wasn’t able to lose the weight as fast as I wanted because of the constant pain and injuries, but I learned invaluable lessons along the way. Today, I am completely pain-free. The biggest lesson? You have to win the fight in your mind first. Your mind will lie to you, cheat you, and hold you back, especially when it’s conditioned by years of neglect and trauma. But if you push through, if you fight every day, you can break free from that mental prison.