Diet starts Monday.

Cut weight, move freight.

We move freight for a living. We lift crates, we dodge forklifts, and we eat like hell when the day’s done. You’d think that’d keep us in shape—but the truth is, it doesn’t. At least not anymore.

So this is Week 1.

And this one’s personal.

I’m not starting this journey to impress anyone. I’m doing it because my health has been the lowest thing on my priority list for too long. And I’ve got four mouths at home that count on me being around—not just working, but present. I’ve got an entire branch that rides on my energy, decisions, and stamina. And some weeks, that weight feels heavier than anything we load on a dock.

The truth is, weekends aren’t rest days for guys like me. They’re just more chaos, more catch-up, more caffeine. I haven’t had a Saturday morning sleep-in since Obama was in office. Being in leadership doesn’t mean a bigger office—it means your whole family sacrifices. It’s missed meals, calls from the show floor at dinner, and trying to be Superman when you’re running on fumes.

That’s why I’m taking this seriously.

I’ve started training at a boxing gym. Not because I think I’m gonna go pro, but because I need to fight something that won’t call me at midnight. I need a space where it’s just me and the work. I’m not worried about six-packs or macros. I’m just trying to outlast the guy I was last week.

Diet? It’s hard. Real hard. Fast food wrappers in the floorboard and 12-hour show days don’t leave room for kale. But I’m starting small: more water, less Zaxby’s, and making sure at least one thing on the plate didn’t come out of a deep fryer.

We’ve got a gym at HQ, and that’s in play too. But the fight gym—that’s where the soul work happens.

Now listen—I was once ready to jump in Rough N’ Rowdy just for fun. I thought I’d get in, piece up an enemy or two, and put on a show for charity. My guy Large at Barstool even said he’d help set it up. But these days, I’m not chasing that. This ain’t about clout. It’s about survival. It’s about longevity. It’s about being here for the long haul—for my people, for my family, and for myself.

This blog is about accountability. Writing it down. Posting it publicly. Holding my own feet to the fire.

This isn’t some fitspo fantasy. This is for freight men, tired dads, road dogs, and anyone carrying too much but still showing up.

See you in Week 2. I’ll either be lighter, meaner, or more sore than before. But I’ll be here. Btw check out the biscuit blog.