The fire service teaches us many things, such as discipline, resilience, and how to perform under pressure. It also teaches us something else: to carry weight without showing it. Like many in this profession, I took pride in being dependable, strong, and someone others could count on. However, over the last two years, I discovered that strength doesn’t always look the way we think it should.
Dec. 28, 2022
My wife and I faced our hardest challenges when an ectopic pregnancy led to an emergency surgery. It was the most difficult experience of our lives. This led to further infertility issues and additional stress.
I did what I thought I was supposed to do in this situation: focus on being strong for my wife, keep my emotions in check, avoid talking about my own struggles, and convince myself that my role was to hold everything together as the main provider of the household.
That approach came at a cost. I fell slowly into a hole I didn’t recognize, which was depression. I struggled internally, but didn’t have the courage to express it. I didn’t talk about it with my wife, and wouldn’t ask for help while support was what I needed more than anything. I was taught that carrying the burden silently was part of the job. Most firefighters can attest to that statement.
January 2025
And then … something shifted. My mindset. It went from simply getting through each day to intentionally building a version of myself that could handle whatever came next. If I wanted to be both a physically and mentally strong husband and a soon-to-be father, then I needed to start holding myself to a higher standard. That meant choosing discomfort purposely and putting myself in situations that demanded growth versus comfort.
This was also while recognizing my career wasn’t just about doing the job well, but about making the people around me better, including my crew. The passion pushed me to lead by example, not just with words, but through action and consistency. What started as a personal commitment quickly became a responsibility to show others what’s possible when you commit to the process. I made the decision to challenge myself physically and try to put myself through as much physical exertion as my body and mind would allow.
Every single month in 2025, I committed to doing something difficult, something that could push me to want to quit. One goal after another, that I never knew was possible, became another “impossible accomplishment,” a box that was checked off.
The domino effect began. I took a step that turned into running my first half marathon. Then I completed the Fit to Fight Fire Crucible Assessment in full gear and SCBA, which was 1,200 reps. From there, I stepped onto the mat and wrestled at 200 pounds bodyweight in a masters tournament which then led to me competing in the Firefighter Challenge, which I completed. Alongside my teammate, I broke a state record. There were many others along the way, but these are just a few.
When I began the health and wellness journey, I thought I was doing these things to prove I can power through any form of pain, but as the time went on, I realized I wasn’t punishing myself. I was rebuilding myself.
These challenges became a way to process emotions I was unable to express out loud because “this is how it’s always been.” These accomplishments gave me structure, purpose, and an outlet. The lesson that surfaced itself was growth happens when we willingly step into discomfort.
That revelation changed everything.
What started as a personal journey turned into something bigger. I began to share what I was learning with others in my department. We introduced weekly workouts. I worked with my peers to build fitness plans to fit their needs. We talked about better eating habits in practical and sustainable ways. We trained not just for the job, but for longevity in the job and after.
More than anything, we built camaraderie through shared suffering, through sweating together, and pushing each other to improve. Firefighters now show up at the station asking, “Are we working out?” and “Are we training tonight?” That’s the real reward, the buy-in. Health and wellness became more than just a “topic” we talked about once a year, it became a gateway to connection, accountability, and support.
I didn’t build this alone. I owe a great deal to my friend Blake Christenson, who is the owner of Iron Maltese Athletics. He helped guide and challenge me along the way. His presence in the fire service as a health and wellness advocate is top level, and the dedication he puts into his work is next level.
A firefighter’s journey into health and wellness
The fire service teaches us many things, such as discipline, resilience, and how to perform under pressure.
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