The birth of a rebellion. Where wellness is unfiltered, goals are big, joy is essential, and the only things we take seriously are snacks. And maybe deadlifts. And maps. Priorities, right?
Hey, hey—how are my best Thrivers?
I’m Jess—the occasionally functional brain behind Thrive, B!tch.
What are we? F*cking tired, that’s what. We’re young(-ish) professionals, striving to achieve our goals, grow continuously, and collect moments of joy in this often absurd and beautiful life. In short, we want to thrive and delight in the world around us, for however much time we have.
Not Your Average Wellness Community
What sets us apart? We’re not like a regular community, we’re a “cool” community. 😉
We’re over the extreme wellness bandwagon—with influencers biohacking their coffee colonic bowel movements while touting a 20-supplement stack that costs more than rent. We’re “adults,” and we don’t have the time, energy, resources, or f*cks to give to overly pretentious and capitalistic wellness rituals. We strive for a high-performance lifestyle—but we’re done self-flagellating over missed macros, unfinished book goals, or the fact that our resting heart rate isn’t 30 bpm (yet).
Please Allow Me to (Re)Introduce Myself
And me? Aside from pretending to be an aspiring, modern Lady Whistledown of Wellness (business cards incoming), I’m a long-time strength and conditioning coach, constant adventure-seeker, sometimes writer, proud Millennial, and Chief Sass Officer—with conflicting left and right brain interests. I started this community because of a midlife crisis. Just kidding. (Only kind of. But I didn’t buy a Cybertruck, so clearly, I’m winning.)
I began my coaching career in 2011 with a top-shelf internship mentored by one of the greatest sports performance experts in the industry. At 5’3 ½” and a buck twenty (and female! gasp), I wasn’t exactly the stereotypical strength coach. But I was motivated and studious AF. When I wasn’t actively observing or asking questions, I was scribbling notes in my red spiral notebook, full-on Hermione without the “levi-o-SAH” energy.
As a former dancer, I had killer kinesthetic awareness (and pointed toes) and an eye for movement deviations (once I knew what I was looking for). I spent my free time crushing textbooks and practicing complex lifts and drills (in private, of course, because public embarrassment is ICK). I knew I wasn’t the obvious choice, so I did what any underdog would do: studied harder, played to my strengths, and earned my credibility one rep at a time. I worked smarter AND harder, leaning into that progressive overload, until I carved out my own path.
Meanwhile, recent D1 football grads with Comms degrees? Strolling onto NCAA coaching staffs, landing $50-60k straight out of college. Credentials? Optional.
Criteria: former D1 football player, liked by the staff, able to dry swallow multiple scoops of pre-workout without blinking. Bonus points if they used buzzy terms like “glute activation” and “triple extension.”
My criteria: bachelor’s degree, master’s degree, multiple coaching certifications + years of experience. To gain the experience necessary to get an entry-level position, I balanced a full-time job with two part-time jobs until I finally scored a 30k/year offer as a full-time D1 assistant strength and conditioning coach (at 30 years old).
Was it my dream job? At the time, absolutely. Dream salary? Hahahahahaha. (Sorry, I’m still laughing.)
Once I earned my spot, I was all-in. I tasted the entire performance buffet (not in an OnlyFans way, chill). I coached NCAA D1 athletes, transitioned to tactical strength and conditioning to bring the high-performance model to the fire service, I worked with professional and Olympic athletes, and I explored the corporate wellness landscape. Eventually, I was adopted by the endurance community (primarily cycling and triathlon), and I launched my own business to continue what I loved most without all of the red tape.
From Heavy Lifts to Long Runs: The Pivot
But over the last few years, the dream fell out of alignment. The world changed. The coaching and wellness landscape changed. Social media changed. I changed. TL:DR - there was a lot of f*cking change. Case in point: During the pandemic, I became a runner. And then, I decided to punish myself even more and become an ultrarunner (who TF saw that coming?!). Because apparently, regular suffering for 13.1 miles on unforgiving pavement wasn’t enough, I needed to (more than) double the distance and throw in obstacles like rattlesnakes, tree roots, and the not-zero chance of a cougar attack. But the snacks and views are way better, so it's a net gain.
But just as I was starting to find my stride as a born-again runner (pun partially intended), I experienced my first overuse injury in May 2024. Tendonitis of my f*cking distal sartorius. Seriously, the most difficult muscle to isolate enough to move the needle. The chronic injury forced me to (eventually) slow down and ask myself—if I wasn’t running, lifting, or coaching, what was I doing? At this point, my business was already on the back-burner—like on the stove in the basement kitchen kind of back-burner. The injury just reinforced that decision. I needed to focus on myself. I knew wellness and performance remained core parts of my personal “brand,” but I didn’t feel like I fit into any of the existing fitness camps. And the injury heightened my sense of disconnect.
Fitness Influencers, Elite Athletes, & Feeling Stuck
In the current age of creators and influencers, qualifications have lost their power. People don’t want an impressive resume, they want to be entertained or inspired by TikTok videos. A large following means more than extensive experience. As we say in marketing, attention is currency. And barely-clothed “fitness influencers” with minimal body fat and a reasonable level of attractiveness get attention. Especially when they make us laugh or turn us on, and throw in relatable quote or fitness tip for good measure. And that wasn’t the right path for me. I have a full-time career. I don’t want to post “entertaining” videos of myself to the masses for attention—and hopefully, a steady flow of coaching clients. I’m not “Miss Look-at-Me, Look-at-Me.” I’m happy to give a presentation or coaching demonstration to a crowd, but to flaunt myself on video for public consumption? Oh hell no. My personal IG had enough sugar daddy solicitations—how TF that's possible, I don't even know. I post pictures of mountains and lakes. Honestly, even this venture is pushing my limits of vulnerability to the max. But at least, it’s fully me (not half-naked me)—irreverent humor and all.
In addition to the scantily clad fit-fluencers, there’s the truly elite performance crowd. These are the professionals at the top of their game, competing professionally, publishing books and research papers, and/or out-lifting most athletes WHILE rocking a PhD in biomechanics, physiology, or neuroscience (but usually, all of the above). Impressive? AF! But I just want to be me. I want to be real. And my real doesn’t always come with a doctorate and year-round shredded abs.
Sidebar: Thought about a PhD. And an MD—orthopedic surgeon, no less. But have you seen tuition prices? Education in ‘Merica, y’all.
So here I am: one Master’s degree, an above-average deadlift, and no “doctor” title of any persuasion. Close, but no flex. With only a Master’s degree and an above average deadlift, I clearly didn’t clear this "elite doc" hurdle. And while I am an avid follower of their content, it’s not the right vibe for me to personify. It fits a part of me, but not all of me. It’s all just a little too much, too extreme, too far outside of my student loan budget.
What Was Missing?
So where does that leave someone like me? Was I just another coach with war stories from my early days? A walking resumé with nowhere to go? The thought's been gnawing at me for over a year—until I realized I was asking the wrong question. Years of podcast wisdom, audiobooks, and NPR’s How I Built This finally kicked in. I stopped contemplating where I fit into the current system, and I asked myself: what do I want most? Not what job do I want, but what is missing in my life?
Community. Specifically, a tribe centered around wellness and performance but made up of real f*cking people.
I knew I didn’t fit the current or overly-optimized mold. So maybe, it was time to shatter it. I didn’t want an OF account in disguise or an overachieving, overpriced wellness cult. I wanted a wellness rebellion—with sass, snacks, and strong-as-hell, real AF humans.
Enter: Thrive, B!tch.
Stay tuned for more.
Stay thriving, stay rebellious—J.
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