the fitness industry is
too loud
I didn't set out to build a coaching method. I was just trying to learn how to lift.
I had no music. No hype. No coach in my ear. I'm Deaf, so I made my own system. I spelled words through reps — T-R-U-S-T or F-E-R-A-L on a five-rep set — to stay locked in. Painted my ring finger gold for what I called alpha energy. Matched workouts to my internal state instead of following a program. I was building the Silent Playlist Method years before I knew it had a name.
Then I got sober and the method got sharper. I lost my dad and it got deeper. I trained on a Marvel set, competed on American Ninja Warrior (tore something the night before, competed anyway, fell backwards on national TV — moved to Denver shortly after, unrelated but incredible timing), and coached people through every version of strong I've seen — clients who finally sprinted on the beach. Clients who hiked without knee pain. Clients who got their first push-ups. Clients who said yes to things they'd been saying no to for years.
Eventually, they all came back to the same thing: they trusted themselves again.
That's the method. That's the work.
What I believe
The body doesn't need more instruction. It needs more attention.
The rep is what you feel first — before the metric, before the playlist, before the program. The best coaching doesn't add noise to that. It removes it. It teaches you to show up, feel what's there, and trust what you hear. That's the method. Five stages of getting out of your own way.
Habits beat stacks. You don't need eleven supplements and a recovery sled. You need Bulgarian squats, basics done well, and the bandwidth to keep showing up.
Complicated isn't better, either. Complicated is the ego trip the industry keeps falling for. I've been lifting, jumping, and sprinting since I was 20 — no periodization drama, no tendonitis TED talks — and I'm in the best shape of my life. The math isn't complicated. The marketing is.
Effort is feral and amazing. Tending to your body isn't self-care — it's self-respect. You should be the creative director of your own fitness.
What exists in this world
If any of the above hit — if you're tired of being coached AT instead of coached, if you're built for big, exciting lives but your body hasn't caught up, if you're ready to try a different kind of strong — there are a few doors in.
1:1 coaching for the people who want a method built around their actual life, not a program built for someone else's. Still Feral — an immersive retreat series in Todos Santos, Baja California Sur, where the loudest thing is the Pacific (if you can hear!) — for the people who need to leave the noise behind to remember what their own signal sounds like. Respectfully, No. on Substack — one ritual, one rep, no BS, every week.
And what's coming next: teaching other coaches what it looks to coach with less noise.
A few things to know
I'm almost 37. I drink my coffee with creamer within thirty minutes of waking up. I make tiny watercolors nobody's asked to see. I'm an amateur birdwatcher and a decent golfer. I'm five years sober. I drink Topo Chico like it's my job. I'm relocating from Denver to Todos Santos with my partner Aaron and we're going to be insufferable about how good the weather and food is in Baja. I'm writing about it on Substack & posting on Instagram.
My work has been featured in Women's Health. They ran a music edition and brought in the Deaf trainer to talk about autonomy. Read that sentence again.
NASM-certified trainer speciality in functional strength, kettlebells. BioForce conditioning certified. Currently completing a Health & Mindset Coaching Certification (HMCC) in behavior change rooted in neuroscience. Ten-plus years of coaching, from Equinox floors to Marvel sets to Baja beaches.
If you're done with louder, harder, more — good.
This is your exit plan.
I've never heard a single playlist. I still coach better without one.
