The Coaching Years

I never planned to be a coach. Not really. For years, I was just the bloke who trained, read too much about nutrition, and bored his mates with gym talk over a pint. But somewhere along the way, helping people became more than a side thing. It became the only thing that made real sense.

When I started university in 2019, I already had that dream buried in my head — to become a health coach. (Fun fact: “dreamt” is the only word in the English language that ends with “mt.” I had to learn that somewhere along the way.) Back then, it felt more like a fantasy than a plan. I was still a carpenter, still yo-yoing up and down in weight, still figuring myself out. But the seed was planted.

Most health coaches you see online are the polished type. Shredded, disciplined, never missing a workout, always eating clean. They tell you to “just eat sensibly” or “just stick to the plan.” And maybe that works for them.

But that’s not me.

I’ve lost 100 pounds. I’ve gained 60 back. I’ve starved myself, binged myself sick, and tried every diet under the sun. I even did the infamous Carnivore Diet for three months straight — and yes, it worked (controversial to admit, but it did). I’ve obsessed, I’ve failed, I’ve rebounded, I’ve fought.

And yet, here I am. Still training. Still learning. Still showing up.

That’s why coaching made sense. Because I know what it feels like to want health so badly and still sabotage yourself. I know the rush of eating a whole pizza and dessert while you’re still chewing the last bite. I know the shame the next morning. And I know how to live with it, not hide it.

I can’t relate to the picture-perfect coaches. And if I can’t relate to them, maybe you can’t either.

Here’s the truth: I love food. Always have, always will. Pizza Hut Cheesy Bites Meat Feast with a dessert and full-fat Coke? That’s an emotional high that’s hard to beat. And yet, even while eating it, the lows start creeping in.

That cycle doesn’t magically vanish just because I’ve got a degree. I’m always going to binge from time to time. That’s my reality. But I’ve learned how to live with it — and still be healthy.

That’s the message I bring as a coach. Not perfection. Not some illusion of “balance” where cravings disappear forever. But acceptance. Self-awareness. Strategies that work in the real world.

Because telling someone with BED to “just eat sensibly” is about as helpful as telling an alcoholic to “just stop drinking.” My way is about finding a path forward even when the cravings hit, even when the binges happen, even when life gets messy.

Even after uni, I didn’t suddenly “fix” myself.

• June 2023: Graduated at 217 lbs after an extreme cut so I could look good in photos.
• December 2023: Hit possibly my best shape ever, around 195 lbs, right before a trip to Australia. Felt incredible.
• January 2024: Tried a “lean bulk.” Disaster. Slid back up to 215 lbs by April. Then I met my girlfriend. We bonded over food and comfort. I still trained hard, but the weight piled back on.
• December 2024: Back at 240 lbs. Again. Another painful “oh shit” moment.
• February 2025: A big post-Christmas push took me back to 220.
• June 2025: Hovering, frustrated. I’d promised myself I’d never yo-yo again, but junk food in the house made it harder than ever.
• August 2025 (now): 210 lbs. The lightest I’ve been since early 2024. And this time, I’m drawing a line in the sand. No more yo-yo.
   

That’s where the accountability of being a coach comes in. I can’t just hide anymore. I’ve set myself a public challenge: 1000 days of showing up, posting daily, proving that health isn’t about being perfect — it’s about being consistent.

So here’s what The Coaching Years are about:

• Helping real people. The ones who feel stuck, ashamed, or like they’ll never get it right.
• Cutting through the bullshit. No fads, no quick fixes, no magic powders. Just practical strategies.
• Living with flaws. Because binge eating might never fully leave me — and that’s okay. I can still live a fit, healthy, happy life.
• Building trust. I’m not some guru shouting from the top of the mountain. I’m down here in the trenches with you.
   

I’m not chasing six-pack glory shots. I’m chasing something better: showing people that health is possible even when you’re imperfect. Especially when you’re imperfect.

Why should anyone trust me as a coach? Because I’ve lived it. I’ve been 280 lbs and miserable. I’ve been 179 lbs and equally miserable. I’ve stood on every rung of the ladder in between. I’ve made the mistakes. I’ve tried the diets. I’ve failed, succeeded, failed again, and come back.

I’ve learned that the battle is never just food or exercise — it’s mental, emotional, environmental. And I’ve learned to fight those battles in ways that work in the real world.

That’s why I coach. Not because I’m perfect, but because I’m not.