Over the course of October, I posted stories, listed highlights and shared throwback photos of my time as a trainer over on @punkrockandpreworkout. As cliché as it sounds, it’s incredibly bittersweet. These were intended to be my final posts on those accounts and while it’s a giant weight off my shoulders, it’s also leaving an even bigger hole in my heart. It’s a necessary step forward as I try to navigate this very strange chapter of my life. Let’s dig in.

How It Started:

I spent my college years (2003-2007) following a very strict diet of Taco Bell and Red Bull paired with a lot of desk-sitting and very little physical activity. Back then, $5 could get me a beef-and-cheddar sandwich, curly fries, mozzarella sticks, potato cakes and a cherry turnover at Arby’s and I ate that as my dinner frequently. My habits didn’t change after college and by 2009 my diet primarily consisted of Hardee’s doubles that were 2-for-$4 and cheesesteak burritos from this hole-in-the-wall Mexican joint in North Carolina called Habañeros. I had also ballooned up to 305 pounds, had no beard and my hair style was atrocious. I was a hideous creature from Planet 9.

By 2013, I had moved to Knoxville and had continued to not change much. I wasn’t over 300 pounds anymore but each attempt to get fit (including following Couch-to-5K and doing EA Active for the Nintendo Wii) failed. This was due mostly to me lacking the determination to do something for myself but also because my nutrition was still so out of whack that no workout plan could save me. On Sundays, I would sit and watch NFL football in my apartment and eat half a platter of fried chicken sliders from Wishbones that were intended to cater a party. I’d then polish off half a pint of banana pudding and wonder why I was still fat. 

Early that year, I was given a very rude awakening. While receiving my blood work results from my yearly physical, my doctor expressed grave concern over my health. My blood pressure indicated I was in a constant state of hypertensive crisis, my liver was so fatty that I was on the verge of non-alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver, my cholesterol was off the charts and I was pre-diabetic. I was an overqualified candidate for a good old-fashioned stroke at the age of 29. I was told that unless I made some drastic changes, I would forever live in the shadow of heart disease, would have to take a laundry list of pills every day to stay alive and my sex drive would be zero in the next couple of years. It was time to make a change.

Making Change: The Early Days

My doctor suggested I go on the Mediterranean Diet so I bought a cookbook and hated everything I saw inside. I never cooked anything out of it. I then briefly went on a juice cleanse (which I do NOT recommend for anyone under any circumstances) after watching a very convincing documentary. I shit myself to death for five days before quitting and deciding I would follow a Paleo-style diet since it seemed to be the easiest philosophy for me to stick to. I began learning how to cook a variety of vegetables, started consuming more fruit and began loading up on protein.

I also set a goal for myself: to be able to run a 5K before I turned 30. I had started and failed Couch-to-5K three or four times in the past and never got beyond the first week or two. I now had more drive and had invested in a decent pair of running shoes for my journey. I took those shoes and my RunTastic app to Carl Cowan Park in West Knoxville and I stuck with it. I ran three days a week for nine weeks, being fully trained about a week before the Hot-to-Trot Thanksgiving Day 5K in Turkey Creek. When I crossed the finish line, I was down 27 pounds, had lost two belt notches and was basking in the reality that I was 5K capable a full two weeks before my 30th birthday. It was one of the biggest wins of my life. I celebrated with pancakes at Cracker Barrel and made a Paleo pumpkin pie when I got home.

Life: Forever Changed, Part 1

Toward the end of my training program, something even bigger happened to me. While walking through a shopping center parking lot on my way to look at fabric at JoAnn, I discovered TITLE Boxing Club. The doors were wide open and the music was blasting. I just wanted to have a look. I had been doing some shadowboxing in my basement as a form of cross-training so I was familiar with boxing but hadn’t actually learned anything. The former owner of the establishment was there and he explained to me that the first class was free, no strings attached, and I should come by. I laughed it off because there’s always a string somewhere, but I couldn’t focus on fabric or crafts the entire afternoon because all I could think about were jabs, crosses, hooks and uppercuts. I swung back by on my way out and signed up to take my first class the Monday after Thanksgiving at 5:45am. The front desk worker who scheduled me was Kimber and she said it was her class. I was hyped because I already had a little crush on her. I could not be late for this.

At this point, the 5:45 class was a no-brainer for me because I had already been getting up super early to run. I had learned early on that running in the heat of the day is the worst idea ever so I forced myself to become a morning person as though my life depended on it … because it did. Those first few boxing classes nearly killed me but I was immediately hooked (pardon the pun). Kimber, Aaron and PJ were incredible trainers and they not only taught me the Sweet Science but they made it fun and engaging. 

Over the course of the next year, I never missed a 5:45 class and I still ran three times a week. I ran the New Year’s Day 5K in Turkey Creek, the ZenEvo Valentine’s Day 5K in North Knoxville, The Barley’s St. Patrick’s Day 5K in the Old City, the Covenant Health 5K downtown and the Fireball 5K on UT’s campus. At this point, I had been killing it in life, had completely gotten my health in order and had lost around 75 pounds. 

As I continued on with my lifestyle changes in 2015, another life-changing opportunity presented itself. Kimber had gotten another job and was no longer a trainer at TITLE. Demarcus came on board as a morning guy but he wasn’t the most reliable and didn’t like being up so early. Also, PJ’s availability was about to change. They needed trainers with 5:45am availability that were experienced boxers and were at the right fitness level. I had been wanting to become a trainer for the last year but when this opportunity came up, I kept it a secret because I didn’t want anyone to make fun of me. I wasn’t confident I was fit enough to be the person they wanted.

I awkwardly mentioned it to both Demarcus and Aaron, and both of them said the same thing: I was an idiot if I thought I wasn’t a good fit. They encouraged me to apply and go through the training process, so I did; and on November 2, 2015, I led my first class. It was a noon class and there weren’t many people there. I don’t even remember how it went but I do remember I was wearing a black t-shirt with a ribcage on it. Regardless of how good the class actually was, I brought the energy and feigned enough confidence to convince the members I was meant to be there. I had done it – I was officially a group class trainer.

I led 1-2 classes per week and attended those I didn’t lead. It was during this first year as a trainer that two more big things happened: I officially hit 100 pounds lost and I was starting to become interested in getting certified as a personal trainer. Aaron (one of our only board-certified trainers at the time) encouraged me to do it, so I did. I spent six months studying my ass off to become a NASM-certified trainer and on the very last possible day, I took what was the single hardest test I’ve ever taken in my life. To this day I don’t know how I passed, but I did. By the end of 2016, I was officially board-certified and shortly after I had my first two clients: Danielle and Raul. I couldn’t believe it.

As my skills as a trainer improved, so did my reputation. I started leading afternoon and evening classes, my client roster was steadily growing and I was quickly becoming “everybody’s favorite” trainer. I was even at a point where I’d just swing by the gym for a little bit every single day even if I didn’t have anything scheduled just to check in. It had become my life and was giving me a sense of fulfillment like I’d never received before.

Over the next few years I grew even more attached to the place. At one point I had so many clients they couldn’t afford to pay me for them (to this day they still owe me close to $500 that I’ll never get), I had worked my way up to not only being the Head Trainer but eventually became the Director of Operations. I trained our staff, I did countless hours of customer service, I sold merch and I managed the club’s social media. It was still a part-time job but I was easily putting in 30-35 hours of work there each week.

During this time, I was named the club’s “resident Viking” due largely to my size, my beard and my pursuit of Norse-inspired paganism. It wasn’t long after that, my followers dubbed themselves JTF’s Viking Army, a title which eventually became my personal brand. TITLE corporate had been pushing for their trainers to pursuit individual celebrity statuses and this title not only gave me a platform from which I could build my notoriety but it also gave everyone who followed me a flag to fly that represented them as well.

Undoubtedly, the single greatest thing that TITLE Boxing Club ever did for me was give me a wife. Katie had been coming to workout there for about three years and we saw each other somewhat regularly. She usually came to the latest class we had available, which I didn’t teach often. And even though I spoke to her as much as I could, I didn’t know much about her aside from: tall, blonde, sexy and owns a Pantera tank top. Our conversations were usually brief, which I assumed meant she was trying to get away from me — she is out of my league, after all.

But after three years of her seeing me date bimbos and me seeing her date potatoes, our stars finally aligned. I’d find out that the reason she would always run away from me was due to her being nervous because she had the hots for me. When I had an opportunity to ask her out, I was all over it and the rest, as they say, is history.

But just like anything else good in this world, this fabulous experience of being an all-star trainer had to come to an end. I won’t use this space to gripe or complain about the circumstances surrounding my departure from the boxing gym but just know that in August of 2021, I lost respect for a large number of people. A great number of lies were spread about me and it all had to do with ownership refusing to acknowledge they weren’t right about something astonishingly trivial. It didn’t have to be this way but that’s the route they chose to take. I was given the option to finish up the week and then be fired, or just be fired immediately. I told them to kiss my ass, that if I was just going to be let go after all the love, passion and support I’d put into that place, then they weren’t my classes anymore. I was fired by one of my best friends and we haven’t spoken since.

My heart was in a billion pieces. I’ve gone through losing my father (he didn’t die, he just didn’t want me anymore), I’ve gone through a divorce, I’ve gone through calling the police on my alcoholic ex-girlfriend … but losing my job at the boxing gym was the single hardest thing I’ve ever had to reconcile. I had to face a question for which I simply didn’t have an answer: If I’m not the head trainer at TITLE Boxing Club, then who the fuck even am I?

The Next Episode

I had a pity party for about a week. I was in a deep depression and I was full of both fear and regret. My fear came from a place of figuring out what I was going to do since I had grown so dependent on my side-gig income. Not only that, I still had active clients I owed sessions to but had no place to take them. My regret came from the same place it grew from the Saturday Night Grindhouse fiasco in that this could have all been avoided if I had just stopped listening to my heart and fell in line, something I’m not very good at.

Toward the end of that shitty week, however, I decided that I could either feel sorry for myself or I could make things right – or maybe even better. I started calling local gyms to see if they partnered with independent trainers and eventually found Exclusive Fitness in Rocky Hill. Over the weekend, I applied and was approved for trainer insurance and met with Wade at Exclusive on Monday. By Tuesday morning, I was back in business and ready to take clients.

I spent the next year working out of Exclusive Fitness as an independent contractor and during this time I saw an enormous amount of growth. My client list was already established but I had also picked up several members who left TITLE to follow me as well as brand new clients who were just now finding out about me. I owed the gym a fee for every session I held there but at the end of the day, I was bringing home more money as a trainer than I ever had. I spent one week in the dumps but made sure I could carry myself into the next chapter, just like I always have.

2022 was the best year ever for me. Not only had I saved my training business and made it profitable again, I got married to my best friend in the world and got a killer promotion at my full-time job. The promotion meant more financial stability and professional growth but it also meant, unfortunately, that I could no longer sustain a side business. I simply wouldn’t have the time anymore. I made the very, very difficult decision to retire from the personal training business in December 2022, and spent the next month knocking out the final sessions I owed my existing clients.

This was pretty cool, because I had a feeling that after I left TITLE, their days would be numbered. I knew that I was going to retire from personal training at some point but my goal was to take clients one day longer than TITLE Knoxville stayed open, no matter how long that took. They went out of business in December 2022, and I still had active clients in January 2023.

So … What Now?

Shortly after this, life was very good. Sure, I missed being a trainer but I suddenly had my evenings free every day. And my mornings would be spent working out for myself, not because I had to lead class or be a role model. The amount of stress I was feeling at this point in my life was merely a fraction of what it was during my last few months at TITLE, and I was grateful.

Lately, however, I’ve been in a really dark place mentally. Being a trainer was never going to pay me enough to allow me to take it full time and still have the lifestyle I wanted, but it gave me purpose. What I did mattered. I helped people change their lives and made an impact every single day. Presently, I don’t feel like I have that anymore. I had such a firm grasp on my identity as Justin Firefly, the trainer, that I lost all sight of what makes me valuable or interesting without it. 

I told Katie that I feel like I’m in the bottom of a well. I have developed a series of passions and interests that make it nearly impossible to connect with anyone who reaches my standard for being in my life. Try being a straight, adult male in East Tennessee who isn’t religious, hates UT football, isn’t into sports, isn’t into objectifying women, is a raging feminist, doesn’t drink much, hates drugs (even weed) and is by all measures a progressive. I like shopping and drinking water and listening to punk rock and I’m resolute on all of these characteristics. It’s created a lonely life where it appears the only way to feel any kind of “normal” is to compromise my values and I won’t do it. I make myself feel this way, then bitch about feeling this way. This is my world; this is my reality.

I’ve also noticed lately that many of the friends who held onto me after leaving the boxing gym seemed to slowly scurry after my departure from that world. It’s like when you decide to stop partying and realize the only thing you had in common with your “ride-or-die” besties is the party and without it, you have nothing. So many of my connections from over the years loved Justin Firefly, personal trainer extraordinaire, not just Justin.

One way I plan to help myself out of this hole is to finally cut the last few strands of my life as the trainer. It served its purpose, it gave me a handful of friends and the most perfect wife a man could ever ask for. But now that part of my story is over. There’s no going back. And the only way to truly move forward is to remove every last iron I had left in that fire.

That last iron is my trainer social media profiles.

I started my social accounts on August 9, 2017, with a post that read, “Need a Personal Trainer?” Over the next six years, I’ve shared way too many selfies, class schedules, instructional videos, recipe videos, food photos, flex photos, motivational videos, coaching videos, videos of my clients lifting weights, videos of my clients boxing, pictures of my weekly meal prep and a variety of custom workouts I built for myself.

I’ve connected with so many people through my social network over the years and I’ve loved hearing from every single one of them. It hurts to think about losing that outlet from which I could still coach and inspire my followers but at this point, every positive interaction is followed by the dreadful reminder that this isn’t my world anymore. It’s like a billboard that shows me how fulfilled I used to be in my hobby-turned-passion and that the thing that gave me life no longer exists.

So I’m turning off the lights on Punk Rock and Preworkout indefinitely. The final step out of that world. I’m still going to work out and talk about gym stuff, of course, but it’s time that I put my whole heart into finding out what it means to be me during this era of my life. And then I’ll create a whole social media persona around it, too, and be a crybaby later when things change again. Who knows.

It is done. Thanks for the memories. Please try the fish.

-JS