I hear people often ask me, “how do you do what you do?” “how can I do this, I don’t have any time?”
Here is a quick reality check to them.
I don’t have time either, I fucking make time.
But before I go into that, I will back up some.
You know how I got started in the gym (if you follow my blog and bought my book), you know that I had some success in strongman and sports, you also know where I am now after having a bicep surgically repaired.
One of my biggest hurdles to overcome wasn’t injury, it wasn’t sickness, it was my own fat ass.
In 1998, after my football tryout, I became incredibly lazy.
I stopped lifting, I stopped running, I stopped everything related to getting stronger and faster.
I was burnt out. I blew my load mentally training for this shit and I needed a break. A short break turned into months and my body went to absolute hell.
I was in a 48 jean. No shit, a 48. My lifestyle was horrendous, I was a bartender at night paying for school and I lived on fried food, shitty bar burgers, Jagermeister, Vodka and mini tacos.
Yep, that was me.
One day at my mom’s house, in summer, we were out back doing some work on her landscaping. Nothing earth shattering, nothing that would require me to exert any major effort but I was sweating hard, breathing heavy and feeling like shit.
So, my mom AGAIN, put me on blast. She’s good for that, much like me she doesn’t mince words too often.
She looked at me and said very simply, “Jason (only a very few can call me that and you better either be family, old school friend or someone I care about a lot), you are sweating white, you need to eat better, you eat too much salty shit”
I wiped my brow with my hand and looked. She was 100% right. It looked whitish in color.
Now whether or not the salty food had a play in that, or my massive alcohol consumption; it doesn’t matter. I made a change starting that day.
I was a fat fuck, I was unhealthy and I had to do something about that fast.
I started going back to the gym. If you ever remember starting up with weights you will know how much you struggled to learn, to get form down and to not look like an idiot.
Imagine being a training veteran and having to start over.
Weights sucked. My cardio was horrendous. I could barely do 3 minutes on an elliptical machine.
I was embarrassing. I was seriously ashamed of myself more than most of you can imagine.
I went from being a great athlete to being a fat fuck and I was still young.
I forged on. I ate better, I suffered, I cut back on drinking. Those nighttime bar meals became chicken and chicken wraps. I got back into running again.
I saw the pounds come off steadily, I saw weights go up and I saw progress in conditioning.
That propelled me into rugby, that propelled me into the training business.
I developed a passion for this which grew as the years went on.
Sure, I had setbacks since then, but nothing ever came close to a size 48 waist and my own mother calling me on the carpet.
Seems she had a lot of say in my lifestyle, huh? Crazy how that works where one person can encourage you without making you do it.
As I write this, I remember those days so well.
XXXL tee shirts, my face was huge, I was fucking gross.
But then you have now… but I never let up, I never quit and I never will forget that at one point in my life I essentially gave up.
How does this apply to you?
Its pretty damn simple. I hear guys who tell me “my back always hurts”. I give them simple shit to do and they would rather tell me they don’t have time and then they sit on their half-crippled asses drinking beer every goddamn night they can. Its pathetic to quit on yourself, believe me I know.
I see women who are overweight bitch about being fat while shoveling food into their food chutes like its a last meal before they pull the switch. Pathetic. They are responsible for their own actions and I say fuck you to “fat acceptance”. Accepting your fat fate is accepting your demise. That obesity will most likely be a cause of some illness later in life and they are too damn lazy to change it because it requires WORK.
I see people who look at me like I am some sort of anomaly. To the general population I am because most people won’t do what I do to myself. That isn’t to say I am better than anyone, far from it, I may be worse than most of them in some ways, I just have control over one simple area of my life that I take a massive amount of pride in, that is my gym life. To me this is what I know and I recognize not everyone wants to live my lifestyle, but they sure as fuck can make changes to be healthier.
The onus is on them and there will either be a trigger point to make it happen or there won’t be.
Knowing what I know now and knowing how I was then, it makes me realize the error of my ways in letting myself go to the point of what I did.
I cannot change the world, even if I wish I could at times, but one person may read this and look in the mirror and say the exact same thing I said to myself in 1998: “Jesus Christ what did I do to myself”.
Its never too late, its never over and as cliche’ as this sounds its true; the next decision you make is the first one you make in a new life. You can choose to continue making excuses or you can reach and and take something new which WILL reap more benefits to your health, self-confidence, self-esteem and self-worth than any box of Twinkies will ever fucking do.
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