Last February, on one of those gray, soul-crushing days where the cold seeps into your bones and hope feels optional, I flipped on YouTube looking for anything to pull me out of the hole. That’s when I found Truett—some absolute madman attacking the world pull-up record. Set after set, rep after rep, he just kept climbing. Something cracked open in me while I watched.
I wasn’t in a good place. Daycare was chaos, my gym had zero heat and eventually shut its doors, and with it went the one thing that kept my head clear and my heart steady. I lost my sanctuary. But watching Truett refuse to quit lit a fire I didn’t know was still there.
I made a decision right then: If he can own the pull-up bar, I’m going to own the floor.
Push-ups. No gym required. No babysitter needed. No excuses left. Just me, the ground, and a promise to show up every single day and get stronger—physically and mentally.
One year later, I’m closing in on 25,000 push-ups. Twenty-five thousand times I’ve told weakness, doubt, and every lazy voice in my head to shut up and watch me work.
I’m not at 100 a day yet. Some days life hits hard and I “only” get 50. But every single rep is a vote for the person I’m becoming. Every set is proof that consistency beats talent, that discipline beats mood, and that a regular human being—with kids, bills, bad days, and zero perfect conditions—can still do something extraordinary if they simply refuse to quit.
25K is close now. I can feel it. And when I hit it, I’m not stopping—because this isn’t about a number anymore.
It’s about who I’ve become in the process: unbreakable, focused, and living proof that when life takes the gym away, you don’t get weaker—you get creative, you get tougher, and you rise.
Keep going. The floor is always there.
The only question is: how many times are you willing to come back down and push back up?
You already know the answer.
Now go prove it—again and again and again.
