About Eastwood Strength

Like many during their college years, I was drinking too much, eating poorly, and not truly understanding how to fuel my body for performance.

In 2000, life took a new direction when I got married. My wife and I quickly started a family, and we are blessed with four amazing children. At the same time, my career in IT, which began in 1997, was beginning to take off. But in 2007, our lives were dramatically altered when she was diagnosed with Stage 4 Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Watching her go through treatment was a heart-wrenching experience, but it also sparked a shift in how we both viewed health and wellness. After she completed her treatment, we made significant changes to our lifestyle, prioritizing healthier choices and habits.

My wife’s personal journey became my inspiration. She ran her first 5K shortly after finishing treatment, and it was a defining moment for both of us. We began running together, and over time, we ran multiple 5Ks, 10Ks, and even half marathons.

In CrossFit the focus shifted from traditional bodybuilding-type exercises to powerlifting and weightlifting, which completely transformed my training. Motivated by my newfound passion, I earned my CrossFit certification and began coaching at a local CrossFit gym for several years. At the same time, I pursued weightlifting in greater depth, earning my USA Weightlifting Coach certification.

In the spring of 2023, I took another leap and opened Eastwood Strength. This was the culmination of years of training, certifications, and personal growth. I also began working out at Brick Bodies, which led to a personal training certification in the winter of 2023. I began coaching there as this allowed me to integrate my passion with my schedule and IT career. In the spring of 2025, I reached another milestone by becoming a Russian Kettlebell Certified Instructor, adding another layer of expertise to my coaching.

Now, my focus is on strength and conditioning, functional movement, corrective exercise, and mobility. Looking back, it’s incredible to see how far I’ve come—from the “husky” kid who didn’t understand the importance of discipline to a coach who helps others develop a strong, resilient body and mind. My journey has been AND is still being shaped by challenges, transformations, and a deep commitment to becoming better—not just for myself, but for those I have the privilege of coaching. Today, I’m here to help others tap into their own strength, embrace functional movement, and achieve lasting health and wellness.

My Search for Identity

I am a follower of Jesus, and I prefer this term over “Christian” because it more specifically reflects my spiritual intentions and relationship with God. I was raised Catholic, attending Catholic school from kindergarten through high school, and grew up in a religious home. At 13, I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior, but I didn’t fully understand what that truly meant at the time. I believed in God, but my spiritual life wasn’t something I actively nurtured.

For many years, I rebelled against God. I chased after fleeting pleasures—drinking, smoking weed, and pursuing relationships that weren’t rooted in anything meaningful.

In 1995, everything changed.

At Easter time, a girl I had been involved with suddenly vanished without a trace. She has never been found and is still an unsolved cold case. To say I wasn’t affected by her disappearance would be an understatement. It shook me deeply, forcing me to reflect on the choices I had been making and the life I was living.

I had driven home, drunk and lost in my own world, consumed by the thought that if I didn’t change, I was going to end up dead. As I stood outside my house, lost in the fog of my drunken thoughts, I suddenly heard someone call my name. It wasn’t just a passing thought or a vague feeling—it was a clear, unmistakable voice that pierced through the fog of my drunkenness. It was God, real and present. And in that instant, something inside me broke.

I fell to my knees, crying uncontrollably, and could only repeat “I’m sorry” over and over again. The weight of my rebellion, my shame, and all the confusion I had carried for years seemed to lift in an instant. When I stood up, I was stone-cold sober. It was as if the veil of darkness had been pulled away, and I was seeing life with new eyes.

That moment marked the beginning of a major shift in my life. God had reached out to me in a way I couldn’t ignore, and though I didn’t fully understand what it meant to follow Him, I knew in my heart that my life would never be the same. I felt a renewed sense of purpose, but I also knew the road ahead would be anything but easy. This encounter wasn’t just a wake-up call—it was the start of a journey that would force me to confront the choices I had made and the person I wanted to become.

The next years of my life unfolded with a mix of spiritual growth, personal milestones, and challenges:

• I served in youth ministry, trying to lead others while still figuring out my own path.
• I played in worship bands, seeking to express my faith through music.
• I got married and became a father, experiencing the joy and responsibility that comes with family life.
• I built a career and earned a solid reputation as a systems engineer—a “computer nerd” in many ways.
• I walked through the difficult and humbling journey of supporting my wife through her battle with cancer.

I just went about living, navigating these life events, trying to make sense of it all.

But by 2012, I found myself in the midst of a mid-life crisis, questioning everything. I felt stuck and restless. Despite everything I had accomplished—my family, career, faith—I was still searching for peace. There was no contentment in my life, and I kept asking myself, “Who am I really?”

After seven years of feeling lost and frustrated, in early 2019, a traumatic event shattered me. Broken trust and betrayal caused me severe mental and emotional pain which eventually was compounded by a serious back injury. I had always prided myself on being strong— physically and mentally. I was the guy who could hold his own in the gym, even in my mid-forties, but now I was dealing with a pain that I couldn’t simply lift my way out of. My physical strength, which had been the foundation of my identity, was no longer there, and it sent me into a deep, dark pit of despair.

In the spring of 2019, I attended a 3-day men’s retreat called Man Camp in Ohio. It was my second time attending, and I was hoping for some clarity. I was broken, both physically and emotionally, and I needed to step away from everything to find peace. At the retreat, there was a place called the MASH tent (Mobile Army Surgical Hospital) where men could go for prayer. I knew I needed something, but I wasn’t sure what.

On the last day of the retreat, the worship leader shared a story about how God had healed his knee over the weekend. Even though he was still struggling to believe it was real, he was filled with gratitude for God’s healing. His story stirred something in me, and I realized I needed to seek healing for my own pain. I went to the MASH tent, hoping for some physical relief.

That day, I found my true identity—not in my strength, my abilities, or anything temporary, but as His son. This new identity is something no one can take from me. It exists outside of and despite me. It has given me a renewed sense of purpose and direction. My focus has shifted from seeking fulfillment in fleeting things to moving forward each day with the awareness that I am part of something far greater than myself.

Why I Do It

Through everything I’ve experienced, my journey has led me to one clear purpose: to not just survive, but to thrive.

As a kid, I was called fat, and it stung deeply. Even now, I still struggle with weight gain and loss, although I’ve learned to combat much of that with muscle and the strength I’ve built from lifting heavy weights. Even though it’s something I continue to wrestle with, it’s also become a symbol of resilience—a reminder of the work I’ve put in, and the strength I’ve gained both physically and mentally.

I want to be healthy and functional as I get older. It’s more than just looking a certain way—it’s about being able to move, feel good, and live with the energy and vitality that allows me to enjoy life to its fullest.