Body Systems Coaching

Let’s be honest; wedding cake sucks.

We had a make-your-own ice cream sundae bar instead.

19 years married.

3 incredible children…

Apparently the universe was conspiring in our favor that fateful night in Las Vegas, 23 years ago.

Countless moments of bliss and some pretty frickin hard ones, experienced together.

An evolution of beliefs, values, and who we are as people.

I couldn’t possibly put into words the magnitude of emotions I feel when I think about you, our love, and the life we’ve created together, but I’ll try:

2 weeks ago today, I woke up from surgery in a sterile outpatient room, in mind-numbing pain, shivering, disoriented, and wondering what the hell just happened.

Amongst the blur of the fading anesthesia, the only thing I wanted, or could think about, was having you there with me, in that room, by my side…

As you’ve been every day for the past 19+ years.

We’re both pretty independent people.

I don’t need you…

I WANT YOU.

My life is better in every way with you than I could ever imagine without you.

It’s funny, marriage…

We’re teammates and partners.

Sometimes we’re crushing it, stacking wins. Nothing will stand in our way.

Sometimes we’re getting crushed, and all we can do is huddle up, take a deep breath, laugh it off, and keep moving forward.

Sometimes we’re taking different routes, albeit toward the same destination…some drive slower than others 👀

And sometimes we’re taking turns leading the charge, pulling each other through the inevitable hard seasons that come with building a life together.

There really is no finish line in sight…yet.

We just keep choosing each other, every day.

Keep building, pivoting, and growing.

Keep relentlessly and unapologetically figuring s**t out as we go.

And as long as I have you, and we continue sharing a vision for the life we want to create together, intentionally, I’m pretty damn confident we can’t lose…

Unless, of course, you start liking wedding cake. 😘

Happy anniversary, babe.

I love you.

Wow, this was 12 years ago. Thx for the reminder, FB.

Back around 2012-2014, I wrote articles for Scottsdale Health Magazine on nutrition, training, fat loss, supplements…all the stuff I was obsessed with then (and apparently still am).

One day the editor asked if I wanted to be on the cover.

Obviously, hell yes.

Then she told me the shoot was in two weeks.

Fortunately, I was already in pretty good shape, but two weeks doesn’t leave much room to f**k around, so I tightened up my diet and employed some hefty water manipulation strategies (def. not recommended).

Funny enough, that’s also where the signature apple pic came from (pics 3 and 9). 🍎

Looking back now is pretty wild.

I’ve changed how I eat.

I’ve changed how I train.

And I’ve DEFINITELY changed how I coach.

But one thing hasn’t changed:

I still give a s**t.

Probably more now than I did back then.

I’m just far more intentional about HOW I coach and WHO I coach.

I want to work with people who genuinely want more for themselves and are willing to take responsibility for creating it.

Because after 20+ years, I’ve learned I can’t possibly care more about your progress than YOU do.

Most people already know a lot of what they need to do.

The harder question is why aren’t they doing it?

That’s where real coaching happens.

How committed are you, really?

What choices are you making every day?

Who are you surrounding yourself with?

I can give you the strategy, ask better questions, hold up the mirror and tell you the truth.

But I can’t want it more than you do.

Another diet or workout isn’t going to change your life.

YOU deciding something needs to change, then consistently making choices that support that decision, is what changes your life.

My job is to help you see that clearly and hold you to the standard you said you wanted.

Your job is to decide how badly you want it and go after it unapologetically.

12 years after these pics and 20+ as a coach; I still absolutely love this work.

Maybe even more now because I’ve seen the impact these changes have on the people I coach AND the people who rely on them.

I just understand the assignment a whole lot better now.

Much love,

Ben

I don’t watch much football anymore, but after my recent surgery, I watched Case Keenum ball out for the Bears on Monday night.

He’s 38, has spent the last several years as a backup QB, and suddenly found himself starting with his two young kids watching him play for the first time.

Man, was it fun to watch.

What struck me most wasn’t how well he played.

It was what he talked about afterward.

He got emotional about his family, but kept coming back to the guys in that locker room and what those men meant to him.

I couldn’t stop thinking about that.

I think a lot of men lose this as we get older.

We have friends. Work buddies. Guys we golf with.

But that’s different from having men who really KNOW you.

Guys who have your back when s**t gets hard, but will also tell you when you’re full of s**t.

Guys who care about their health, families and businesses.

The people around you influence what you consider normal.

If your buddies drink four nights a week, that feels normal.

If nobody trains, skipping workouts feels normal.

If everyone is stressed, tired and bitching about their wives, eventually that’s just what life in your 40s looks like.

But the opposite is true too.

Get around men who take this life seriously and your reference point changes.

You see what’s possible. You get challenged. You expect more from yourself.

And when s**t gets hard, they remind you what you said you wanted.

This is a big part of True North™.

The workouts, competition, recovery, nutrition and conversations matter.

But I’m convinced the ROOM matters even more.

Ten guys who want more and help each other get there.

No dick-measuring. No tearing each other down.

Challenge when needed. Support when needed.

Calling each other UP, not out.

So think about the men you spend the most time with.

Are they making it easier to become the man you say you want to be?

Or easier to stay exactly where you are?

Monday night was a pretty damn good reminder:

Just because we’re not playing team sports anymore doesn’t mean we stop needing a team.

Worth considering.

Much love,

Ben

P.S. If this hits home, commen “TRUE NORTH.” I’ll tell you more about what we’re doing in Scottsdale.

This isn’t a sympathy post.

I have dear friends dealing with things far worse.

If this is one of the biggest problems life is handing me right now, I’m incredibly fortunate.

But I believe in being honest about the lessons life hands us.

Later today, I’m having surgery to reattach a pec muscle I tore working out.

Am I happy about it? Absolutely not.

A friend recently told me:

“Maybe you need to stop lifting so heavy.”

I vehemently disagree.

Could I have made a better exercise selection? Absolutely.

Could this have been avoided? Perhaps.

Will I learn from it? You’re goddamn right.

But I refuse to make the lesson: stop pushing yourself.

I’m 47.

There are things I can’t do today that I could 10 or 20 years ago.

That doesn’t mean I should ask less of myself.

It means I need to get smarter about how I ask for more.

The mistake wasn’t pushing myself. The mistake may have been HOW I pushed myself.

There’s a difference.

Because I can’t think of anything worse than spending the second half of my life constructing a narrative that celebrates mediocrity and calling it “maturity.”

“Be careful.”
“Take it easy.”
“Act your age.”

F-that.

The world already gives men plenty of permission to stop testing themselves.

Nobody will pull you aside because you’ve gotten a little softer, safer, more comfortable and less ambitious every year.

In fact, they’ll probably tell you you’re doing great.

That’s what scares me.

Somewhere along the way, a lot of men stop asking what they’re capable of and start asking what they can get away with.

And they get really good at explaining why.

I’m not advocating recklessness.

Wisdom SHOULD change how we operate.

But wisdom should make us more capable.

Not more timid.

So I’ll recover.
I’ll learn.
I’ll adapt.

And eventually, I’ll pick up something heavy again.

I’d rather learn to pursue greatness more intelligently than find increasingly sophisticated reasons to stop pursuing it.

Life will humble you.

Good.

Pay attention.
Learn the lesson.
Then keep going.

I see you. I believe in you.

Much Love,

Ben

Tomorrow night marks the end of Yom Kippur.

And Tuesday morning, I’ll be heading into surgery to have my pec reattached after completely tearing it off the bone.

Hell of a way to start the Jewish New Year.

But the timing has had me thinking.

One of the interesting things about getting older is that the lessons don’t necessarily change…

They just get harder to ignore.

When you’re younger, you can get away with a lot.

Sleep like s**t and still perform.

Drink too much and bounce right back.

Train recklessly and somehow survive it.

Neglect relationships and assume there will always be time to repair them.

Ignore the little voice telling you something needs to change because…

Nothing is that bad yet.

Then you get older.

And life starts sending invoices.

Sometimes physically.

Sometimes professionally.

Sometimes in your marriage or relationship with your kids.

And sometimes while lying face down in an MRI machine wondering how the hell your pec tendon ended up six centimeters away from where it’s supposed to be.

Yom Kippur is traditionally a day of reflection, repentance, and taking an honest inventory:

Where did I fall short?

Who did I hurt?

What did I neglect?

Where did I know better…and still choose otherwise?

But there’s an important second half:

What am I going to do differently now?

Because awareness without action doesn’t change much.

Maybe that’s one of the great lessons of getting older.

We don’t need to become perfect.

We do need to become more honest.

About our bodies.
Our habits.
Our marriages.
Our parenting.
Our work.
Our priorities.

And the increasingly finite amount of time we have to do something about all of it.

Tuesday, a surgeon gets to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.

Then I get to practice a few things I’m admittedly not great at:

Slowing down.
Being patient.
Accepting help.
Respecting the recovery process instead of trying to outwork it.

Apparently life still has a few lessons left for me too.

I suspect it always will.

The question isn’t whether life will keep teaching us.

It’s whether we’re paying enough attention to learn.

Much love,

Ben

Life looks and feels very different at 45 than it did at 25.

That’s not a bad thing.

Stable relationships, family, career, more financial stability...

But also more perceived challenge with responsibilities, stress, aging, joint health, and hormone decline.

That’s also why what worked for you in your 20s and 30s stopped working...

And some of it may have actually contributed to the problems you’re dealing with now.

I realize it all can feel confusing and contradictory, which is why I’m excited to share my recent podcast interview on Coming Up Clutch with J.R.™

During our conversation, we talked about…

➡️ Why fat loss and muscle gain after 40 isn’t a physiology problem

➡️ How to stop the all-or-nothing cycle that’s keeping high-capacity men stuck

➡️Why living in the gray isn’t weakness, it’s actually a strategy

➡️The truth about GLP drugs and peptides (this might surprise you)

➡️The 85% weight regain stat that should make every driven man think twice

➡️Why your bloodwork saying “you’re normal” doesn’t mean you’re healthy

➡️Why the most successful men don’t rely on more discipline

If you’re a high-capacity man who’s elite in your career, but knows your body isn’t matching your ambition, then click the link below to tune in.

You’ll LOVE it!

Link in bio

Enjoy the episode!

Ben

There were more nights between the ages of 20 and 40 that I drank alcohol than nights I didn’t.

And for a long time, I had plenty of reasons to tell myself it was fine.

I was in good shape.
I ate healthy.
I exercised every day.
I was a good husband and father.

Alcohol was just my one vice.

But deep down, I knew better.

I knew it in the way I slept.
I knew it in my mood.
In those moments when I’d snap at my kids for the smallest thing.

And mostly, when I’d look back at family pictures and feel shame because of what I saw under the surface.

The hardest part was that nothing was falling apart.

My life was pretty good.

And for a lot of men, that’s exactly where they get stuck.

But I knew:

Pretty good and great are worlds apart.

When I turned 40, I found myself standing at a precipice…

Between the life I had become comfortable accepting...
And the man I was capable of becoming.

So I made The Choice.

I went 30 days without alcohol.

And almost immediately, things changed.

I slept better.
I felt better.
I looked better.
I was more present.

And no, I didn’t swear off alcohol forever.

But the more I committed to myself…
The easier it became.

Now, at 47, sure, I’ll have a couple of cocktails here and there.

But alcohol doesn’t control me.

Because I made The Choice.

And that’s what I teach the men I coach.

The Choice isn’t about alcohol.

It’s about refusing to listen to that little bitch voice that keeps giving you permission to stay where you are.

That voice is dangerous because sometimes nothing is really wrong.

Yet you know you’re capable of more.

Sometimes The Choice comes simply because you recognize that “pretty good” is no longer good enough.

Because you’re committed to finding out what’s possible…

PS. This is the exact work we’ll be doing at my upcoming men’s retreat in Scottsdale, AZ.

Getting brutally honest about what’s running your decisions, and having the guts to change what needs to change, even when life looks pretty good from the outside.

2.5 days. 10 men. 6 spots remaining.

If this feels like the conversation you’ve been avoiding with yourself, comment “TELL ME MORE”, or DM me, and I’ll send you the details.

One question turned a group of perennial losers into Olympic gold medalists.

In 1998, the British men’s rowing team had had enough. Years of failing to make the Olympic final.

With two years until Sydney 2000, they set one goal: win gold.

The problem? They couldn’t control how fast the Americans rowed. Or the Russians. Or the Germans.

They could only control one thing. How fast their boat went.

So they started asking a brutally simple question about everything.

“Will it make the boat go faster?”

Training? Will it make the boat go faster?

Sleep? Will it make the boat go faster?

Arguments and petty behavior? Will it make the boat go faster?

Going out drinking? Will it make the boat go faster?

It became their filter.

Because they realized something most people never do:

You don’t get the life you say you want. You get the life your decisions produce.

A lot of men get stuck here…

They say they want to be a stronger man.
A better father.
More disciplined.

But they make decisions based on what feels good right now. What will keep everyone happy. What’s easiest.

Then they wonder why nothing changes.

You need your own version of “will it make the boat go faster?”

Ask the same question about your own life.

Will this make me a better man?
A better father?
A stronger leader?

If the answer is no, then you’re choosing a life you say you don’t want.

You don’t need more information…You need a higher standard for the decisions you make.

The British rowing team wasn’t the most talented, funded, or favored. They were obsessed with doing the things that moved them toward the goal, and unapologetically eliminating what didn’t.

That’s what commitment looks like.

So here’s the question:

What’s the “boat” you’re trying to make go faster?

And how many of your daily decisions are actually moving you towards it?

Your Coach,

Ben
PS. This is a big part of what we’ll be working on at my upcoming men’s retreat in Scottsdale, AZ.

Getting brutally clear on what matters most, and having the courage to align your decisions around it. 2.5 days.

Just 10 men. 6 spots remaining.

DM me or comment “TELL ME MORE” below and I’ll send you the details.

Funny times we’re living in...

More info at our fingertips than we could have ever hoped for, and not a clue what to do with it.

More privilege, more possessions, more possibility for the future than one could have ever dreamed...

And yet, we’re more depressed, anxious, insecure, and lonelier than we’ve ever been.

Men, especially.

So many expectations:

Be strong, but sensitive
Be a provider, but also be present
Be proud and masculine, but not toxic
Be stoic, but also share your feelings.
Be driven, but humble

We often lean into material possessions to fulfill our need for status and respect - the watch, the car, the trips, the country club.

We try to build the body to create significance - the strength, the abs, the races and ribbons for our imaginary trophy wall.

We overcommit to the kids teams, the boards, the volunteer committees, the side hustles that just adds to the “busyness” of life....

Because it’s better to be needed everywhere than not be needed at all.

But none of it works for very long if we don’t have clarity on what we’re working for.

And after 20 years of coaching men, I’ve realized that expensive toys, or six-pack abs, or superficial commitments will never take the place of feeling supported, connected, and understood by other men who share the same values and aspirations.

Respect, belonging, and proof that you’re part of something bigger...and you’re not alone.

You can’t find it in AI.
You can’t find it doomscrolling on social.
You can’t find it in weekend rec leagues or random dad-groups.
You can’t find it in your run club or 5am workouts.
You can’t find it in conferences or business meet-ups.

You build it face to face, shoulder to shoulder, with other men who viscerally understand the rigors that come with the “mid-life” chaos that has descended upon us:

Young kids, aging parents, work stress, relationship challenges, financial responsibilities, breaking down joints, and a “WTF happened to me” freight train that we collided head-on with once we hit 40.

If this is you...you’re not alone.

We’re opening the doors on something special for a few dangerously good men this fall.

Comment “me” if you want details 👊