Hey Everyone,

You don’t want to miss today’s installment of how I defeated obesity.

Never forget, when life has you down in the dumps, things can always get worse.

But until you’ve really hit your rock bottom, can you begin to affect change – your mindset will begin to shift, in order to never have to experience rock bottom again.

Let me tell you about my rock bottom.

It was no picnic.

No siree.

To recap, I had lost both of my parents before my 30th birthday and I am an only child who sadly wasn’t that close to my extended family.

My parents weren’t the best with finances or paperwork, so I was left with debts, obligations, and financial entanglements spanning three countries – and I couldn’t do anything about them since the pandemic prevented international travel and my wages took a massive hit.

ANYWAY

When I thought things couldn’t get any worse…

They did.

_________

Powerlifting was an outlet for me.

A way to vent.

My iron therapy.

Getting stronger, adding weight to the bar, and leaving all my frustrations at the gym was everything to me.

Became almost intertwined with my identity.

Six weeks after my mother died, I lost powerlifting too.

While attempting a barbell row rep PR with 180kg, I felt a pinch in my lower back.

Nothing too severe, I had suffered from pinched nerves before.

So I rested.

When the pain left, I continued training, but the back pain was worse.

So I rested.

When the pain left, I continued training, but the back pain was worse.

So I rested.

And you get the picture.

The pain in my back got so bad that I was almost bedridden for several months.

I finally saw a doctor who advised me to get an MRI.

And this is where the bad news was broken to me.

“You must give up lifting weights,” my disheveled doctor said.

My lower back was in a dreadful state.

Four bulging discs, degenerative disc disease, stenosis, and a fractured vertebra from way back when.

As it happened, I had been powerlifting on a severely compromised spine for years.

I broke my back as a child, but it was never treated.

I had seen various specialists growing up.

None of them gave an answer for my misshapen (broken) vertebra.

None of them were curious.

The only option was to quit powerlifting so I could live pain free.

Even though life f***ing sucked on paper, I laughed.

I was free.

The only way was up.

I could finally focus on losing the weight.

______________

Powerlifting had become an excuse for me to get yoked, strong, but never have to truly confront my dreadful eating habits.

Eating large quantities of food goes hand in hand with powerlifting and strength sports.

Powerlifting, in a way, for me at least, was a cope and to avoid holding myself accountable for overeating.

I could continue living in a state of denial.

“Oh, my gut isn’t getting bigger – it’s my abs.”

“I’m 290lb today – must be putting on a lot of mass.”

“My arms are 20” – this training cycle is working well.”

In actuality I had created a toxic three way relationship between my emotions, powerlifting, and eating.

I wanted my cake and to eat it too.

Once powerlifting was out of the picture, I had to face reality.

I was still obese.

I struggled with eating too much.

I was my own enabler.

But in confronting reality, the task ahead remained clear.

I had nothing more to lose – except the fat itself.

Stay tuned for the final part of this mini-series which should be out tomorrow.

Stay Strong,

Herculean Strength

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