One of the silver linings of the COVID-19 pandemic and the supply chain crisis that accompanied it was that it brought into focus how important truck drivers are. Many Americans realized for the first time in their lives that everything they see in a store, touch, smell, and eat was brought to them by a truck driver. And yet, according to the CDC, truckers are twice as likely to suffer from chronic illnesses than the rest of the working class population. The average age of retirement in the U.S. is 64—but the life expectancy of a trucker is 61. That's a daunting statistic if trucking runs in your blood, like it does in mine.
I always wanted to be a trucker because like many other truckers, it runs in the family. My great-great grandfather Nicky Lombard, and his brother John came to the United States at the turn of the 20th Century. What started as peddling ice from a horse drawn carriage, they incorporated as Lombard Bros. Inc in 1923. They became one of the largest motor carriers in the Northeast, with terminals from Maryland to Maine. My grandfather became an owner, and he also drove for Lombard for 30 years. Lombard became a victim of the Motor Carrier Act of 1980 and sold in 1984, but I got to spend 23 years of my life growing up with my grandfather and his stories.
But my grandfather was not immune to the hardships of the job. He had a heart attack before I was even born and ended up passing away from complications stemming from heart disease, and on top of it, his father also died of heart disease.
It has to do with the long hours behind the wheel, the fast food, and in general the lifestyle of being on the road and not having as much control over what you eat or when you can get up and walk around.
By the time I had started getting my CDL permit, I was thinking long and hard about how I could do this job without going down that path. It was the Summer of 2020, and I had recently relocated to Central Texas from Connecticut to start a new life. Having spent the previous few years working for a wholesaler, I got to drive a few of our delivery trucks, and the job itself involved interacting with truck drivers quite often. I was ready to become one myself, but I was not about to let my career choice risk my life, so I made a plan.
I took accountability of what I enjoyed eating and figured out how I would eat it over the road. I got an air fryer, food scale, and microwave. Sleeper cab trucks come equipped with a fridge, but I also bought a cooler. I stopped drinking my calories. I bought running shoes, and while in CDL school, I began walking and going for light jogs, even for just 30 minutes.
My first few weeks over the road were the biggest test, because I was with a trainer and couldn't bring anything I had prepared for. So instead I downloaded a health app to track my macros—the calories I consumed broken down into protein, carbs, and fats. And for those two weeks, I slashed calories, drinking a lot of black coffee and seltzer water to stay full. And I was able to find time for intentional daily movement almost every day for two weeks, either waiting for hours at a shipper or when we parked for a 10 hour break. I knew if I had to be off for 10 hours, I could use 30-45 minuted of them to jog, even in circles.
I was out for three weeks and when I got home, I finally loaded up my truck, and bought a copy of David Goggins' book Can't Hurt Me about maintaining self discipline, and it became my field manual for how I was going to progress in my new career and become the best possible version of myself, and not become another health statistic.
And I succeeded.
Here's how I did it:
You can pull into almost any Walmart with a truck and grocery shop at least once a week. My breakfast was an apple, a banana, and a protein bar. I would drive anywhere from four to six hours and then stop for my 30 minute break. As soon as I polled that yellow tab, I broke out my air fryer and would cook up some chicken breast or thighs, microwave veggies and rice, and while it cooked, I would run into the truck stop, take care of business, grab a diet coke, and get back to the truck with a cooked meal. I'd eat, then take off. Dinner would be chicken or ground beef with veggies or rice.
I can't stress a food tracking app enough; it's how I discovered low calorie hacks like keto bread.
Then there was the exercise. I would drive in the clothes I would work out in, and after driving for the day, I would park for my 10 hour break, and then get out and walk or run.
If I stopped at a shipper or receiver, instead of just standing around losing time and money, I would walk, swing a kettlebell, and do pushups.
The key is you have to use the small chunks of time you get. Truckers have time—I know because they have a lot of time to get into arguments on Tiktok.
Building the discipline around these habits got me fit enough to run five full marathons in three years of OTR driving, and the time I spent doing heavy haul, I called loading tractors a "free benefit."
Truckers deserve to be healthy, not come home for three to four days and sleep for two of them.
The reality is, no one is coming to save us, so we must self rescue.
It is not easy by any means, but if you can track your calories, drink water, get in 10,000 steps per day, and prioritize sleep, your life will improve while adding years back onto it.
Michael Lombard is a truck driver turned fitness coach and driver advocate. He is currently working as a Head Coach at OrangeTheory Fitness, and he owns Lombard Fit Motor Freight.
The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.
Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.
Newsweek is committed to challenging conventional wisdom and finding connections in the search for common ground.
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