I’m deeply philosophical, a little ethereal, and very grounded in the body.

That tension has shaped most of my life.

I’ve always been drawn to the deeper questions:
Who are we?
How do we change?
What does it mean to live well?
How do we return to ourselves after life breaks us open?

For me, those questions stopped being abstract after Hurricane Katrina.

I’m originally from New Orleans. When Katrina hit, my entire world was swept away — literally. My family and I evacuated just before the storm because of a dream my grandfather had the night before.

That dream saved our lives.

We ended up in Austin, Texas, watching on a hotel TV as everything we knew disappeared.

It was the end of one life and the beginning of another.

At the time, I was 230 pounds, struggling in school, and feeling lost. But that year, something shifted. My uncle, someone I deeply looked up to, helped me start eating differently and taking care of myself.

That was the first time I really understood discipline.

I lost 82 pounds, going from 230 to 148.

But more than the weight, I learned something that stayed with me:

Discipline is not just about forcing yourself to do hard things.

It’s about having a reason strong enough to choose yourself.

That reason keeps changing as life changes. But the practice remains.

Then I lost my best friend.

His name was Nemr. We were a duo. He played bass, I played drums. He was one of the first people who really understood me. He brought philosophy into my life through music, laughter, and deep conversations.

When I found out he had taken his own life, it shattered me.

That grief still lives in me.

But so does the quote he left behind:

“The current struggle in today’s intellectual is whether to act on or what ought to be.”

That sentence changed the course of my life.

It became a compass.

Not just for what I thought, but for how I wanted to live.

I went on to study Philosophy at Texas State University, where I learned how to think more clearly, feel more honestly, and connect the two. Philosophy helped me understand that life’s biggest questions are not just ideas we debate.

They are questions we live through the body, through our choices, through our habits, through the way we show up each day.

After college, I worked in long-term care, helping elderly adults transition into rehab facilities.

That work changed me.

I saw what happens when the body is ignored for too long. I saw people lose strength, balance, independence, confidence, and connection. I saw how many people were carrying pain they had nowhere to put.

Food. Alcohol. Medication. Isolation. Numbness.

Not because they were weak.

Because they were human.

And I kept coming back to the same thought:

We’ve forgotten the basics.

Eat well.
Sleep well.
Move.
Connect.
Give.
Heal.

We all need practices that bring us back to ourselves.

For me, that practice became movement.

And eventually, it became jump rope.

I started going to the gym after work to avoid traffic. One day, I picked up a rope and something clicked.

I couldn’t put it down.

It felt like the rope chose me.

I jumped for nearly 500 days straight. I started smiling more. Sleeping better. Feeling lighter. Feeling more connected to my body.

Jump rope became more than exercise.

It became therapy.
Meditation.
Discipline.
Play.
A way home.

That experience became the seed for Jump Theory.

I created Jump Theory to share movement as more than a workout. To share it as a tool for strength, rhythm, confidence, healing, and self-discovery.

Later, while living in Germany, I found language for something deeper:

Flowlosophy.

Flowlosophy is my way of bridging the mental and physical planes of existence.

It comes from years of studying philosophy, training the body, and learning that movement is not separate from life.

The way we move reflects the way we live.

We rush.
We hesitate.
We grip.
We avoid.
We compensate.
We adapt.
We return.

Training gives us a way to see those patterns and reshape them.

To me, movement is meditation. Jumping is alchemy. Healing is a daily practice.

Now, I coach people through strength, movement, rhythm, and flow.

My goal is not to fix you.

It is to help you remember that you were never broken.

You may be disconnected.
You may be discouraged.
You may be out of rhythm.
You may have forgotten what your body is capable of.

But you are not broken.

You do not find flow by chasing it.

You find it by returning to yourself — one breath, one rep, one jump, one beat at a time.

This is my Jump Theory.

I invite you to discover yours.

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Education & Credentials

My coaching is shaped by both formal education and lived experience.

I am a NASM Certified Personal Trainer, a NASM Corrective Exercise Specialist, and an AFAA Group Fitness Instructor.

I also hold a Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy with a minor in Leadership Studies from Texas State University.

That combination matters to me.

The training side helps me understand the body: strength, movement, progression, safety, adaptation, corrective exercise, and confidence.

The philosophy side helps me understand the person: identity, discipline, motivation, meaning, and the deeper reasons people struggle to stay connected to themselves.

The leadership side helps me coach with clarity, communication, and care — not just give instructions.

My work brings those worlds together.

You are not just getting workouts.

You are getting coaching that considers your goals, injury history, movement patterns, confidence, habits, and real life.

The aim is simple:

Look better. Move better. Feel more confident.