.

Welcome backstage.

This page isn’t supposed to exist. No branding, no SEO, not even a proper link. Completely off-script. And yeah, my web developer definitely doesn’t know this exists.

But since we’re already breaking rules, let’s drop the polish. This is just me—no filters, no marketing. Just the truth about why this place exists, and who it’s really for.

This is where I share the part of the story that doesn’t neatly fit into headlines or call-to-actions.

Either way, welcome to the most unpolished—and probably most important—page on this entire site.

Hi. I’m Amer.

You’ve probably seen the rest of our website by now—all the bold colors, the colorful language, the whole “we’re not like other gyms” thing. That’s all true, by the way. But it’s also not the whole story.

I wanted to create a space where I could just… talk. Without the sales copy or the marketing angles or any of that. Just me, explaining why this place actually exists.

So here we are. On a page that’s basically just black text on a white background because I have no idea how to make it look fancier.

I get up at 4 AM every day. Not because I’m some productivity guru or because I want to post about it on Instagram. I get up because those quiet hours before the world starts demanding things from me are when I remember what actually matters.

I have three kids—two boys and a daughter. They watch everything I do. How I treat people when I think no one’s looking. Whether I’m the same person at home that I pretend to be everywhere else.

That keeps me honest.

When I was designing this studio, I wasn’t thinking about target demographics or profit margins. I was thinking about my family.

What kind of place would I want my daughter to walk into when she’s older and some part of the world has made her feel like she’s not enough? Somewhere that would see her clearly. Treat her with respect. Never make her feel small.

What kind of trainer would I trust with my wife when she’s exhausted from giving everything to everyone else and finally decides to do something for herself? Someone patient. Someone who listens. Someone who understands that showing up is already brave.

What kind of environment would I want for my dad as he gets older and his body starts betraying him in small ways? A place that honors where he’s been while helping him stay strong for where he’s going.

That’s the standard I built this place around. Not what’s profitable. What’s right.

Look, the other pages on our website are loud and direct because sometimes that’s what people need to hear. But everything on those pages comes from the same place this does—I just used different words to say it.

This page is quieter because this is where I get to tell you what’s underneath all of that.

My faith isn’t something I advertise or use to sell anything. It’s just who I am. It’s why I can’t cut corners with people. Why I take it personally when someone trusts me with their goals. Why I believe every person who walks through that door deserves to be treated with dignity, regardless of where they’re starting from.

Christian values aren’t a business strategy here. They’re the foundation. They’re why Turbo exist.

I’ve worked with thousands of people over the years. Doctors who spend all day taking care of everyone else and forgot they’re allowed to struggle too. Parents who haven’t felt strong in their own bodies for years. Teenagers who hate mirrors. Professionals who traded their health for their career and want it back.

Every single person carries something when they walk in here. Hope, fear, frustration, determination—usually all at once.

My job isn’t to fix them. It’s to see them. To create a space where they can do the work that matters to them without anyone making them feel foolish for trying.

There are no cameras here. No one’s posting your workout for content. No one’s going to push supplements or programs you don’t need.

Just you, showing up. Me, showing up. And the quiet, consistent work of becoming who you’re meant to be.

Here’s what I know about myself: I’m flawed. I mess up. There are days I’m short with people, distracted, or running late. I’m not some perfect trainer with everything figured out.

But when you walk through that door, you won’t be judged—not for where you’re starting, what you can’t do, or why you stopped taking care of yourself.

Because honestly, we’re all carrying something. We all have stories we’re not proud of, days we feel behind or not enough, or just… tired.

You’re not broken. I’m not here to fix you. I’m here to show up consistently while you do the work that matters most to you.

If you’ve read this far, maybe you’re looking for a place where you can just be human. No performing, no pretending, no apologies.

If that sounds like you, I’d love to meet you.

— Amer