The ripped abs. (Don’t have)

 

The fancy gym videos. (I go to PF)

 

The fancy athletic gear and brand partnerships. (My shorts are $19 from Academy, bro)

 

But I would feel stifled and I also wouldn’t feel like myself. Because I don’t think those things have anything to do with fitness, honestly. It’s cute and all and sure at the end of the day that’s what may sell but I’m not really interested in selling a product. I never have been which is why it’s always taken me so long to get to this point. To get to a place where I could bet on myself. 

 

In 2018 I was 27. I still wasn’t out though I’ve known since a kid that I was, you know (bends wrist). 

 

I became a christian when I was 16 and drank the Koolaid because I found family in the church, I found community, and I found a hope that maybe I could find a love I was always looking for. As you follow my journey and story you’ll learn more about all that but (TW) an exorcism and some conversion therapies later and well, I couldn’t take it anymore. 

 

For 27 years I held my breath. I despised looking in the mirror and I couldn’t stand any season other than winter because I could hide behind hoodies and big clothes without having to worry about anyone seeing my body. Texas summers aren’t made for hoodies so summers were always my most stressful seasons. 

 

Look I spent a lot of years trying to understand what the bible said, do everything my pastors told me to do to “heal” my sins and it just felt like no matter what I did nothing would change. 

 

Nothing could change the feeling I felt inside that I’ve had since I could breathe. When you know, when it’s in your bones, there’s just no escaping it somehow or another it’s gonna show up. 

 

For some it shows up in secret affairs. Hook up apps for the “discreet”.

For some it shows up in ending it all. 

 

If you look at the guy in the picture, the one smiling all the time, well, it wasn’t real. 

 

For me the way my pain showed up was in my body, how I ate.

I was depressed and hiding and being beyond encouraged to “die to myself” so

that god could get the glory and in doing that I lost who I was.

I didn’t have a thought that felt like my own and

sometimes I still struggle with that as I heal from the church shit. 

 

But the pain continued and the weight kept up. 

 

To me the idea of ending my life wasn’t just an idea,

it became the only way I felt like I would ever find freedom or escape. 

 

I got to the point where I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I told god through tears that felt like they weighed heavier than me that if I was wrong,

if my life was wrong well then I was sorry that he ever made something wrong.

(I see god and all that shit very differently now but that’s for another day)

 

I got on social media I wrote out my feels and I told the world, my less than one thousand Facebook friends, that I was gay. 

 

If you’ve ever had to do this you know the immense weight lifted off your shoulders when you let people in to see who you really are. And I felt that a hundred fold. 

 

I could breathe. 

 

Well now the real work begins. I started going to therapy, I started allowing myself to figure out who I really was and I did something I never imagined I’d ever do. 

 

For the first time in my 27 years, I stepped foot in a gym. 

 

I had no idea what to do. I felt stuck. It’s like my mind knew I needed something but I didnt know how to get there. And definitely not on my own. 

 

And this is where I come back to the beginning of the story. Sometimes we don’t do because we don’t know where to start. Much like me writing this post saying “I just need to start writing and the rest will come,” so I did that with the gym. I didnt know what would come I just knew I needed to start. 

 

I’m not gonna lie it was hard as fuck. I mean there are literal models walking around the gym and here I come in as this 320 pound teddy bear just reading the machines to see how they work. 

 

I did the only thing I knew how to do. I reached out to friends. Teachers. I asked for help. 

 

Some would give me tips, some even would FaceTime me for a workout in exchange for grocery money and wine. 

 

Literally it was a smorgasbord of people giving me what they can and me going to google for the rest. 

 

I started weighing my food. I started counting calories. I started not just learning how to ask for help but learning how to help myself. And in 8 months I had dropped 70 pounds. (Maybe more I cant remember) 

 

Look I’m not looking to be an influencer, I cry too much for that shit. 

 

I never set out to become a personal trainer but life is a fucking funny little bitch and you just have no way of knowing what is coming your way and how. Originally I only pursed my CPT because I wanted to learn more about fitness but I found something else. I found that the more I learned, the more when people would ask me about things, that I actually found I didn’t just like talking with them about my learnings, I loved it. I loved being able to give tips and knowledge because of my studies and because of my experience. 

 

And look I’m still a baby trainer, but I don’t really see this as training, I barely see it as coaching. I see this as one dude helping another. Another human, another whoever the fuck you are or however you identify and wherever you are. The ones who have been doing this for decades, they’re not gonna come to me and if they did I’ll probably point them to the trainers I know who can meet them where THEY are at. 

 

And that’s the beauty of life. We are all at different places, different stages in our life and we all have different needs. 

 

I’m here because of the underdogs, the ones chosen last or not at all in gym class, the ones who have no fucking idea what to do and just need help getting out of the mind fuck and having someone hold their hand through the process. 

 

I don’t know when we as humans decided that holding someone’s hand or walking alongside them was a sign of weakness because I only know it as a sign of strength. And that’s what I want to redefine in our culture. 

 

Strength is not the ripped abs, the perfectly shot TikTok videos, strength is not how thicc you look in those Lulu Lemon shorts, and it sure as hell is not the weight you lift in the gym. 

 

Nah. Strength is that guy who didn’t know what to do and did something anyway. 

 

Strength is those who haven’t been given a seat at the table and aren’t satisfied with the crumbs from someone else’s meal. 

 

Strength is crying in the car before you even walk to the gym because you’re going through a breakup and you’re dealing with family traumas. 

 

Strength is fucking up and doing it again. 

 

Strength is fucking up and getting up again. 

 

Strength is me and strength is you. 

 

I was 320 pounds when I first set foot in the gym. And I would not be where I’m at without that guy. What I do now is the easy part. It’s the maintaining. I have 8 years of learning, progress, and failure under my belt. 

 

But that guy, he’s the strongest one here. 

 

And that’s what I want you to hear from me. 

 

You. Right now. Whatever stage. Whatever place. 

 

You recognizing you’re in a road block and you’re stuck and don’t know what to do but want to do something. 

 

Taking that step will in fact be the strongest you will ever be and from here on out, it’s just reminding ourselves and learning who the fuck we really are or whatever Mufasa said. 

 

I am 320 Strong. 

 

Understanding. 

Empathy. 

Results. 

 

Let’s cry in the car together.

 

Love you bitch,

Coach Rich