Finding those abs, better late than never

Unfortunately, mine is a sad tale.. I lost my 19-year-old son, Alfie, to a tragic misadventure with a lethal cocktail of drugs.

I will never truly get over it, but working out has always been my sanctuary in times of need. It helped me quit drinking and drugs, and I’ve been proudly sober for over five years now. When Alfie died, I feared I might rebound into old habits. Instead, I went full Forrest Gump mode—I kept running.

My beautiful son is now my energy, my drive. I feel him flowing through me every day. Just the other day, I caught myself laughing, realizing how much of his quirky mannerisms and ways live on in me.

Rather than run from the awful reality of his death, I run toward it—pounding the pavement, throwing kicks and punches at the bag, and pumping iron with Alfie right by my side, my own personal trainer.

Fitness has always been a dream for me. Growing up, I idolized Sly, Arnie, Bruce Lee, and Van Damme. I trained in martial arts from the age of five, earned a black belt in Karate, and started a promising kickboxing career. But at 17, I found drink and drugs more appealing. By 19, partying was my only desire.

I never became the man I dreamed of as a child. The aspiration to be fit and aesthetic came back in waves over the years, especially as the partying slowed down. But inconsistency trapped me in a cycle—overweight to fit (ish), back to overweight again.

At 35, I made better progress. I quit drinking and drugs completely, partly to show Alfie that life without them was not only better but awesome.

Since Alfie’s passing, I’ve found a deeper reason to show up for myself and his memory every single day. He’s my guiding light, influencing every decision I make.

We all need a “why”—a reason to start, or to stay on track. Find yours. Write it down. Hold onto it.