Cold Plunges and Pushups Became Part of Trey Lewis’ 100‑Pound Platinum Country Comeback
Life keeps moving at a swift, solid pace for singer Trey Lewis. The good news is he’s finally built up enough stamina to keep up with all the success that keeps piling on.
When Lewis runs the stage this weekend in Bristol, TN, fans might even catch him banging out a few pushups or dropping into an impromptu legday routine between guitar riffs.
While not a permanent part of his setlist—yet—old-school exercise has become a new wrinkle in Lewis’ newfound commitment to fitness, an impressive physical and mental transformation for the once self‑described high school “fat kid” who could only manage to walk around the track while classmates lapped him during gym‑class miles.
“I was out there one time squatting onstage and jumping all around,” he recalls. “Now I can hit all my notes and still jump around. It’s pretty amazing.”
Now, not only is Lewis running several miles a day as part of his workouts, he’s also running his own show—and never intends to look back. In June, the Alabama‑raised artist celebrated his 19th year of sobriety, and in the same stretch he finally gained control of an even longer‑running food addiction that forced him to lose more than 100 pounds on two separate occasions.
Those life‑changing wins allowed the rest of Lewis’ life—and his now‑blossoming music career—to fall into place. Growing up in Alabama on a continually looping playlist of Hank Williams Jr. and Lynyrd Skynyrd, Lewis didn’t even pick up a guitar until he put down booze for good. For a new artist whose music experience was performing karaoke with his mom and singing with his uncles on family outings, songwriting became a positive addiction and outlet Lewis needed badly.
“I didn’t write songs when I was out there drinking and doing all that stuff,” he says. “I didn’t get a guitar until I got sober. So music, in a way, became my new addiction and kind of my drug of choice.”
Since then, Lewis has quietly stacked a steady stream of small victories into creating big waves in country music. Years of grinding in Nashville led to his raunchy 2020 breakup tune “Di**ed Down in Dallas,” which went viral and put him on the road full‑time. He went on to sign a Sony Music Publishing deal, landed cuts with top artists Tracy Lawrence and Cole Swindell, and launched a second, more introspective project under the name Thomason. He’s also got new music, including his most recent single, 2 Inches” and tour dates on the way.
During his performance at June’s CMA Fest, Lewis was presented with a plaque for “DDID” turning double platinum. The song became so popular, Lewis added two additional version, including a cleaner remix.
It’s a milestone that arrived alongside a new outlook on his health. While career accolades will always be special, the ability to nail every note of every song without having to stop and catch his breath may be his favorite achievement. With the help of a Nashville‑based performance coach, Lewis has turned a literal cold‑plunge obsession into a full‑throttle strength and conditioning routine that has finally kept the pounds off while adding real strength and conditioning to his day‑to‑day life.
“I’m 38 so it’s about feeling good,” he says. “You know, it’s not about, like, how much weight can I lift, or, you know, how many miles can I run? It’s about feeling good and just waking up and every day and getting some movement in.”
How Trey Lewis Lost 100 Pounds The First Time—And Why It Didn’t Last
Now 19 years sober, Lewis has built a catalog of songs over this time period inspired by the struggles that followed him during addiction. Tracks like 2020’s “Whole Lotta Nothin’,” 2021’s “Little Tired,” and last year’s “Ain’t Sober” highlight different chapters of that fight. An older song, “AA,” came from his initial reluctance to seek help—something he now sees as a blessing in disguise.
“It turns out, it ain’t such a bad thing I ended up in AA,” he says. “I always say that when I got there, I thought that place was for losers and people that lived under a bridge. And it turns out that that wasn’t the case at all. And it changed my life forever.”
Today, he says the temptation no longer exists, which makes performing in alcohol‑serving venues a non‑factor. “I don’t ever think about drinking and using drugs anymore,” he says proudly. “I play in bars all the time, and it never even crosses my mind as a good idea.”
However, a second battle to longer to conquer. For a while, though, Lewis swapped booze for burgers, pizza, and whatever food could derail a well-intentioned wellness plan—choices that became especially consistent once he began performing regularly. He eventually ballooned more than 100 pounds above where he wanted to be. “I’ve always kind of struggled with food, just having an unhealthy relationship with it,” he says. “I think my first addiction was food as a kid.”
Since a 12‑step program worked for his alcohol struggles, he gave Overeaters Anonymous a shot. And for a while, the accountability regimen worked—until it didn’t. Lewis lost over 100 pounds, but without a real long‑term plan beyond not eating, the stress of maintaining his life while living in a permanent calorie deficit became impossible.
“I ate the same thing every day for three years,” he says. “And then I just went through some life stuff. And I was like, I’m either gonna get drunk or eat a cheeseburger.”
When “Di**ed Down in Dallas” broke through in 2020, it quickly sent him on a U.S. tour in support of his music. It also presented another problem: Lewis would have to manage his strict nutrition routine while his life and career became a bit more chaotic. Soon, the old habits crept back—he tipped the scales at over 320 pounds.“I was on the road just eating pizza and chicken fingers, acting like I was 20 years old, so it was really easy to put the weight back on.”
From Ice Baths to 100-Pound Comeback
Other than some games of backyard football, sports never played a major role in Lewis’ youth—which could be part of the reason it took him longer to fully buy into a fitness routine.
It also helps explain why the catalyst for his second weight-loss run was, of all things, a cold plunge. Overweight again, out of shape, and coming off a breakup, Lewis—while hosting a side‑gig podcast chronicling other people’s battles with substance abuse—found refuge in a friend’s cold tub. At some point, he realized the irony.
“We were talking about recovery topics and mental health,” he recalls, “but the whole time I’m sitting there thinking that while I’m talking about mental health, sobriety, and spirituality, look at me. I’m not taking care of myself physically.”
During his podcast run, he connected with Justin Todd, a Nashville-based performance specialist who’s worked with pro athletes and musicians, including singer Kameron Marlowe. The two shared more than gym time—Todd is also deep into his own sobriety journey. In a back-and-forth about what they’d both overcome, Lewis tossed out a half‑joking offer: “If you get a cold plunge, I’ll start working out in here.”
Todd heard an opening.
Lewis, at this point around 292 pounds, agreed to come three days a week for a month. If he hated it, he emphasized, he was done. Todd says his job became obvious: “I had to make sure he didn’t hate it.”
Since Lewis’ fitness experience was limited, Todd’s first priority was to build a strong foundation while keeping the singer engaged. He started with a full‑body movement assessment, checking mobility and smaller muscles from ankles to shoulders—essential for a touring artist who spends hours hunched over a guitar on a bus. Early sessions emphasized efficient movement patterns, joint health, and correcting physical weak links. He initially used bands and light weights as prep for the heavier work to come. “We weren’t concerned with throwing a bunch of weight on the bar. We weren’t going to find our success in that with Trey.”
To keep it fun, Todd used the gym’s pickleball and basketball courts. Missed free throws meant extra reps; a made three‑pointer could knock off a set or two. Fridays were reserved for one of Lewis’ favorite activities, disc golf. The two would jog a three‑hole loop—a sneak preview of the running to come. None of this was designed to change Lewis’ physique overnight, but it did help him keep showing up.
“One thing Justin would always say that stuck with me was, no matter what, he was going to the gym,” Lewis says. “That’s the attitude that I adopted from him.”
The gains followed the consistent work Lewis was putting in. With Todd, his weight dropped from 292 into the 240s relatively quickly. Then they worked to chip it slowly but steadily toward the low 230s and beyond. His “beginner gains” came fast—he added noticeable strength, going from learning how to press just the bar to benching 135 for high reps, which feeds his backstage ritual of banging out pushups in front of the band.
“I think my bench is like, 165, I’m not really sure,” Lewis says, proud but matter‑of‑fact. “I just go in there and put the weights on that he tells me. But I do know that I have gotten the big wheels on the side because everyone at the gym gives me a hard time about that.”
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A New Routine Worth Maintaining
Today, Lewis’ showtime weight is holding steady around 225 pounds. He’d still like to peel off another 10 or so, but he insists the number on the scale is no longer the goal. “Now it’s not really about what my weight is,” he says. “It’s about, how am I feeling and how am I performing.”
A lot of other things have changed, too. He’s taken cold tubs—the chilling catalyst to his fitness journey—out of the schedule and replaced them with 20 minutes of heat. “I’m a sauna guy now,” he says. “I love the sauna every day, 20 minutes, 200 degrees.” =
His day-to-day schedule has been overhauled as well. Once a chronic night owl, the 2 a.m. bedtimes are gone. Now, when he’s not performing, it’s lights out around 9 p.m., sometimes even earlier. “I get up at 6 a.m., and I go to the gym, work out, then I go home,” he says. “I’ll get in the sauna for 20 minutes, then shower, do my prayer, meditation, eat breakfast, then I go write a song.”
According to Todd, one big reason this weight‑loss sequel has stuck is Lewis’ stronger mindset, especially once the early gains slowed. The first phase came quickly—he dropped more than 50 pounds in a few months by training and cutting processed foods—but the back half of the weight loss is what really tests a person’s resolve. “That’s when people throw in the towel,” Todd says. “A lot of weight loss is about proper goal setting and taking the focus off the number on the scale and placing it on how well we feel, how our clothes fit, what’s our body fat percentage. Those outcomes are way more tangible and realistic than the scale.”
The upside was that his performance in the weight room kept climbing, which carried over to better performances onstage. “When I started, I couldn’t even do a pushup,” Lewis says. “Now I can pump off like 20, no problem.”
If his former classmates could see him on the track now. What started as Todd having him do 20–30 minutes of 30‑second jogging bursts with rest intervals eventually grew into solid one-mile jogs. Now, Lewis breezes through several easy runs a week, adding another layer to his stamina. “And now, now I can go out and rip three, four miles like it’s nothing, you know, and it’s just awesome, man.”
The stamina doesn’t stop on the track. Even fishing trips are easier thanks to a stronger cardio and conditioning base. “We just went and canoed down a river and fished for seven hours,” he says. “My friend was a lot younger than me, and he was dying. I woke up the next day and I was barely even sore.”
In Todd’s assessment, Lewis’ physical transformation followed a mental one. The consistency of his workouts, combined with the camaraderie he built at the gym, made it hard for him to slip back into old habits. “Trey never missed a workout, I don’t think ever, unless he was very sick,” Todd says. “Oftentimes he would still come when he was very sick—and I’ve got three kids under 3—and I’m telling him, ‘No, please don’t come.’”
Lewis’ all‑in approach to his health has translated into a more focused artist as well. With new music coming soon, he says he hopes a stronger, healthier Trey Lewis eventually leads to another platinum plaque in Nashville. Hopefully he’s not too fast to outrun the inevitable next wave of accolades approaching.
“It’s the same thing with songwriting or any of this other stuff,” he says. “You just have to show up. That’s more than half the battle. Then you do the work.”
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