This spring, I lost a Marine brother.
He was 39. Same as me. Two kids. Same as me. Our lives ran side by side, except he was the healthier one. BJJ black belt. Law enforcement. More active than me. Maybe more alive than me.
He died on a plane, on his way overseas to see his kids.
I kept replaying it. If it could happen to him, the guy who did everything right, what exactly was I waiting for?
The mirror didn’t lie
On June 30, I took the photo on the left. 242 pounds.
I’d been telling myself the same story a lot of guys tell themselves: I’m busy. I’m tired. I’ll start Monday. I was a Marine. I knew exactly what discipline looked like. I’d just stopped pointing it at myself.
That day, I stopped negotiating.
What I actually did
I pulled out all the guns. Here’s the whole playbook, nothing hidden:
- Cut alcohol completely. No more daily happy hour. Those one, two, three beers after work have a funny way of sneaking up on you. After a year, they’re jacking you in the back. I said no at parties too.
- Hired a trainer, once. One payment for a macro plan and a workout program built around my goals. Best money I’ve spent. I’ll use it for the rest of my life.
- Weighed my food. Every meal, every day. Guessing is how you stay stuck.
- Started fasting. It gave my eating a structure and killed the mindless snacking.
- Tracked everything. I log it all in the Lose It app. Record, measure, track. What gets measured gets done.
- Meal prepped. Not the same chicken and rice all week, but a few days at a time. Yes, it eats up my evenings. Getting my life back is worth a few evenings.
- 0345 wake-ups. I rip myself out of bed and I’m in the gym by 0400, one mile down the road. Every day.
- Earned the running. I didn’t run a single step until I was 20 pounds down from diet and cutting alcohol alone. After that first month, I added jogs three times a week.
Slow and steady wins the race. I made every one of these non-negotiable.
Most of it came down to showing up when I didn’t feel like it. Over and over.
October 7: 200 pounds
42 pounds gone. Knocking on the door of the 100s for the first time in years.
The photo on the right isn’t the finish line. It’s proof the work is working.
Next stop: 175 by February.
Why I’m sharing this
I don’t get to take tomorrow for granted. Neither do you.
My kids deserve a father who shows up, stays strong and sticks around. That’s the mission now.
If you’ve been waiting for a sign, this is it. Not Monday. Not after the holidays. Today. One workout. One weighed meal. One night without a drink.
Brother, this one’s for you. You weren’t a warning I’m going to ignore.
Semper Fi. 🇺🇸