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kootenaygoon · 4 years ago

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So,

I didn’t have to drive anymore.

With my clammy forehead pressed to the moist glass of my RAV’s passenger window, I felt like a dying star sucking back black energy in preparation for going supernova. As Mika motored along the undulating lakeshore across the Big Orange Bridge, worriedly drumming her elaborately painted nails on the steering wheel, I compiled a mental inventory of everyone I’d alienated, everyone I’d hurt and embarrassed and infuriated, all the names of people who I’d lost because of my berserk antics and toxic personality.

It wasn’t just the staff of the Star, Ed and Kai and all the rest of them. There was Blayne, and Becca, then Chelsea and now Natalya — plus Snapper and Niles, and a bunch of my co-workers at Tony’s. The list continued. Last of all I thought of Paisley, nearly two years gone now, along with our canine progeny and our dreams of a future together. I’d moved to Nelson with Muppet in my passenger seat four years earlier, and now I was leaving town completely alone.

It was around lunch-time and we were on our way to the Cranbrook Airport, which meant taking a ferry in Balfour. My parents had forwarded some money for gas and an overnight hotel stay for Mika and her two friends, who were chattering in the backseat. I wondered if she’d brought them because she was scared to be alone with me, if they were supposed to act as a social buffer so I didn’t overwhelm her with my manic ramblings. The last few days had been a torrent — I’d lost so many people already, was I going to lose Mika too?

I thought about the final montage of Six Feet Under, with all the different characters experiencing their ultimate fates while Sia sings. I wondered if I fast-forwarded to my death, would it actually be that far away? Would my departure be as incendiary as Ryan Tapp’s, as soul-shredding as Kessa’s, as Shakespearean as Bodie’s? I was 33, like Jesus when he was crucified, so any extra time was gravy. Right? I pulled out my phone and scrolled through Twitter, where opposing factions of the UBC Accountable conversation were flaming each other over new Galloway news. I continued to retweet and comment indiscriminately, relieved to have CanLit drama to think about rather than spectral Kessa and her dancing army of roller-skating women.

I could hear them singing.

“Oh-oh, I’m a rebel just for kicks now,” Laela sang in my brainspace, as a dude in white overalls danced through Sofiella Watt’s junkyard out in Blewett. “Let me kick it like it’s 1986, now.”

“Might be over now, but I feel it still,” I whispered under my breath, pulling up the YouTube video on my phone.

Then there was that scene in Mad Men where Don Draper fires Lane Pryce, who proceeds to commit suicide in his office. This was an experience plenty of other people had gone through, right? Losing your job, social exile. This shit was temporary. My mind was a hellscape at the moment, but that didn’t mean it would be forever. I watched the clouds dance above the surface of Kootenay Lake through the trees, replaying the events of the past few weeks like a newsreel. I thought of Face Tatooo in the rain, about my multiple visits to the hospital, the two police officers who showed up at my door after some of my more alarming social media posts. One of them was mohawked and heavily tattooed, named Armstrong.

“I’m just trying to find the truth,” I told him. “The real truth.”

“There’s not a whole lot of truth in this world,” he said, grim, sitting backwards on a fold-out chair in the middle of my living room. I’d just taken him on a tour around my house to look at all my latest paintings. One of them was for my CrossFit gym, and showed me overwhelmed in glittery rainbow paint drooling down the canvas like blood. I asked him whether we could take a selfie together, just to show everyone I was safe.

“I don’t see why not,” he said.

With my black toque pulled low over my eyes, I had posed with my arm around Armstrong’s back in solidarity. I could imagine the conversations on the other side of the screen: Why was there a cop in Will’s living room? And what’s all this nonsense about having a list of names, about fighting a kamikaze war against rape culture? I had thoroughly and completely lost track of reality, I understood that and I wasn’t shy about letting people know. But would they reject me now, exile me, ridicule me? Now that I’d been thrown from my journalistic plinth, did I even matter? I was just some dude playing at being a reporter. I could be replaced, forgotten about, made irrelevant.

“I did that job better than it’s even meant to be done,” I said, more to myself than anything else. “I gave that newspaper my soul.”

Mika nodded. “I think everybody knows that. It was obvious you were so into it. But you gotta think ‘it’s just a job’ too, you know? You’re going to have lots of jobs.”

“How does it make sense that I have to leave town and fucking assholes like Snapper and Cam Carpenter and John fucking Dooley get to just continue on with their lives like nothing happened. I mean, I’m the good guy here. How the fuck does this make any sense? It’s not fair.”

Mika sighed. “It doesn’t need to make sense. You just need to get back to your family and get some sleep. This is all going to get sorted.”

I blinked back some more tears, fiddled with the radio some more, then took careful long inhales through my nose as I starred out at the frosted white tips of looming evergreens. We were almost at the terminal now. This is all a moment, I told myself, and moments end.

“Hey, what’s with all the police cars?”

There was no way to escape the moment. Every thought was uncomfortable, my body clenched and sweaty. Had that just happened, or was I just being dramatic? Had I really considered throwing myself off the back of the ferry? What the fuck was wrong with me?

After we reached the opposite shore, Mika pulled over to share a joint with me at a quiet boat launch alongside the road. We were shivering in the wind off the lake. Everything else seemed drained of colour, but her hair was a bombastic fire engine red. It reminded me of Mharianne’s pink hair, and Sierra’s hair as well. All these signs led back to Me Too, back to UBC Accountable and Steven Galloway and even my pastor Trent. I thought of my time in the subterranean tunnels below Nelson with Gordo, of the crypts waiting there. The whole town was built on a graveyard, the lake full of drowned souls, and ghosts swirled through the alleyways. Looming above it all was Elephant Mountain, rumbling to life like a buried diety returning to the light, throbbing with purple energy and ready for resurrection. His followers danced shoulder-to-shoulder on Baker Street in flamboyant Shambhala outfits, totems held aloft, while zig-zagging lights pulsed in time with their ecstatic ululations. Were they worshipping? Or praying? Or what?

“Can I have a hug?” I asked her.

She hesitated for a moment. Shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

It was a weak hug, without any warmth. I felt pathetic and needy as I sucked back the last few hoots on the joint. I owed this girl a lot, but I couldn’t expect our friendship to survive long past this. She was just my latest casualty.

“I really appreciate you driving me, and everything. You didn’t ask to be a crazy person’s roommate.”

She grimaced, shrugged against the wind. “You’re not crazy. But you should’ve worn a condom, and you shouldn’t have taken those fucking pills while you were at work. I know you’re going through a lot, but these were bad choices. Do you understand that?”

I blinked for a long moment, surprised. It was like being lectured by a younger sibling. “I hate myself every day. I’m doing this whole mental inventory thing and I know I’m an asshole, okay? I really fucked up, I get that.”

She squinted suspiciously. “Do you?”

A while later, as the evening sky turned the colour of milky coffee, we pulled into the airport parking lot. I’d already left my cell phone and computer behind, and just had a simple carry-on. I tightened my tie and checked my reflection in the glass, jutting out my chin dramatically. I’m dressing up for my breakdown. I didn’t know what was going to happen on the other side of this flight, but I was going to face it in bouncer black. I pushed my pink anti-bullying glasses into place, the last piece of my uniform. I thought of that elementary school flash mob, of the pink shirt I’d worn for years. Bully Free Zone. I thought of my Power by You canvas, about doing hand-stand push-ups and burpees until I left a sweat angel on the ground. I was an intelligent, passionate and talented motherfucker and this wasn’t the end of me. No way.

“Your plane’s not for a few hours, are you sure you’ll be okay?” Mika asked, pulling her coat tight against the wind. It was starting to rain a bit.

“You should go ahead and get checked into your hotel. I’ll get a magazine or something. And I’ll let you know when I get to Vancouver. You don’t have to worry about me, okay? You did what you had to do.”

She bit her lip. “I want you to be okay.”

“I will be.”

This time we didn’t bother with a hug. She climbed back into the driver’s seat and pulled away, illuminating red rain puddles all around the RAV. She was safe now, and so was I. Lugging my bag over one shoulder, I headed to the ticket booth to arrange my way home. The Cranbrook landscape was strangely flat and barren, stretching out on all sides around me. There was a plane taxiing down the runway, its engine roar filling my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut against the rain, which was beginning to spray, and suddenly I was the narrator from Fight Club on the day his condominium was blown up by Tyler Durden. Staring at the smoking wreckage of my refrigerator, sifting through the blackened detritus of my life, his words echoed back to me: It’s only when we lose everything that we’re free to do anything.

Right during that moment, as I contemplated the fact that Brad Pitt plays both Tyler Durden and Lt. Aldo Raine from Inglourious Basterds, a cherry red convertible pulled up to the curb. Andrew Stevenson was sprawled across the backseat with his shotgun, smoking a cigarette, Ryan Tapp dangled his arm from the passenger side window and Kessa was driving in her bare feet. She had the radio on high, playing Tove Lo.

“Imaginary friend, stay with me to the end now,” she sang, but it was Laela’s voice I heard. “Keeping me dreaming.”

I opened the passenger door for Ryan, and he bounded out of the seat with a theatrical flourish. He threw open his arms crucifixion-style, rolled his head around a few times, then took a long drag from his vape. Andrew passed him his bag, and he hooked it over his arm.

“I’m a rebel just for kicks now. I don’t know if you heard,” I said.

“Man, I’ve been following it all. You’re a fucking legend, man. Fuck that town, right? You went out Cobain-style, with a shotgun, you burned that shit down. You’re a magical soul. You’re a light.”

I blushed. “I didn’t get any of the answers, though.”

He pondered this for a moment, while Andrew climbed into the passenger seat behind him and pulled the door closed. Kessa put on her blinker and began to pull away, leaving me, just like Paisley and Blayne and Chelsea and every other fucking woman in my life. How many divorces did I have to go through? How many times would my heart be broken? I didn’t know how much more pain I could take, all my empathy for strangers.

“Look at you, giving a fuck when it’s not your turn to give a fuck,” Ryan said, doing his best impression of Bunk from The Wire.

I channeled McNulty. “What the fuck did I do?”

If on some level I was aware that I was standing in public, talking to myself, then this other part of me didn’t care anymore. I was like a character from a Denis Johnson short story, like a drug-addled Hunter S. Thompson mixed with Chuck Klosterman, maybe. I was capable of so much. I could make all of these inner minions dance on cue; my life was performance art. Nobody understood me, really, or what I was trying to accomplish. Not Spencer, not my parents, not Brendan or anyone. The only one who understood was Ryan Tapp. His bum-chin wagging joyously, I admired his close-fitting blue suit and his skinny tie. He was dressed like he was attending the opening night of some film festival, like he was ready to hit the red carpet. He took a lengthy, mischievous pull on his vape and smiled seductively.

“Where we headed next, Goon?”

The Kootenay Goon

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oovitus · 7 years ago

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I want to be ‘That Guy’. How you can successfully turn body envy into action.

You know “That Guy”. He’s confident, his cholesterol’s in check, he’s not embarrassed to take his shirt off in public, and he doesn’t get winded playing with his kids (or grandkids).

After coaching thousands of clients, I can confidently say: Wanting to be ‘That Guy’ can either propel you toward your goal… or completely paralyze you. Here’s what to do about it.

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You know “That Guy?” The one who looks good, seems effortlessly fit, exudes confidence, and just seems to have it all together?

Ever wished (maybe secretly) that you could be more like him?

Turns out most guys are (also secretly) wishing the same thing.

In this article, I’m going to tell you the truth about That Guy, and what it takes to live a “That Guy” kind of life.

(Hint: it’s not what you think.)

I’ll also show you how to use this kind of comparison to work for you, instead of against you.

++++

Before digging in, however, I wanted to let you know that soon we’ll be opening up spots in our Precision Nutrition Coaching program.

You see, twice a year we work with small groups of men and women hoping to look better, feel better, and gain control over their health and fitness.

Over the course of 12 months together, we help them get into the best shape of their lives… and stay that way for good.

For a sneak peek at the amazing things we’ve helped our clients accomplish, check out this short video:

vimeo

Meet some of the people whose bodies — and lives — have been changed by Precision Nutrition Coaching.

Want to learn even more? Join the Presale List Today.

During the Precision Nutrition Coaching program we’ll guide you through important, permanent improvements in your eating, exercise, body, and health.

The results?

You’ll lose the weight (and body fat) you haven’t been able to shed for years. You’ll build physical strength and gain confidence. And you’ll end up feeling like the healthiest, strongest, fittest version of yourself.

In other words, we’ll help you become your own version of “That Guy”.

Which brings us back to today’s article…

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I want to be That Guy.

For 25 years, I’ve been coaching people on how to improve their bodies, their health, and their lifestyles.

(First on my own, and then as the creator of Precision Nutrition Coaching.)

I’ve coached people from all over the world with different backgrounds, cultures, professions, and family situations.

Interestingly, they’ve all had one thought in common:

I want to be That Guy.

We all know That Guy.

He’s awesome. Inspiring, even.

That Guy maybe has ripped abs, ripped arms, ripped everything. He doesn’t get winded playing with his kids (or grandkids), and isn’t embarrassed to take his shirt off in public.

That Guy might be 30 or 40 or 50 or 60. Regardless of age, he exudes youthfulness, ease, and freedom. He just throws on a t-shirt and looks like a million bucks.

That Guy doesn’t say “uff” when he bends over to tie his shoes. His doctor isn’t telling him his rotator cuff is messed up, or that his blood cholesterol is too high. Heck, he’s probably a doctor himself, like a neurosurgeon or something.

That Guy isn’t arguing with his wife about who should pick up the dry cleaning. He doesn’t have to clean out eavestroughs, or slog through freeway traffic.

And he’s definitely not suffering anxiety about work or helping his parents move into assisted living. He’s not having thoughts like, I need more time to focus on myself.

That Guy doesn’t have bad knees or get heartburn after eating a chili dog. When you have life figured out like he does, like Rocky’s trainer Mickey says, he can eat lightning and crap thunder.

That Guy gets romance and adventure, kicks life in the ass, and rides off into the sunset. Because he totally, completely, has his shit together.

“Make me look like That Guy.”

Twenty years ago, That Guy was Brad Pitt in Fight Club. Clients begged, “Make me look like Tyler Durden.”

These days, That Guy is Chris Hemsworth or Zac Efron or Michael B. Jordan on Instagram. Pick up any men’s fitness magazine, or scroll through any social media feed, and you’ll see That Guy staring back at you.

And on the subway, at work, or at the pool with your kids, there are local versions of That Guy. Call him That Guy Lite — the more attainable but still envy-inspiring version of That Guy. He’s got his shit together. A well-defined jawline. And biceps.

Let’s be honest. I know you’re sometimes down on yourself for not being That Guy. You can’t help but think…

Why does he have it all together, when I so clearly do not?

Actually, here’s the thing. As a coach, I’ve helped create countless That Guys.

And — newsflash — That Guy doesn’t have it all together either.

Before he was That Guy, he was where you are right now. His life was busier than ever with:

chores at home; plus

stress at work; and frankly

just trying to hold it all together; which meant

no time to focus on (and take care of) himself.

And his life wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.

Sure, his social media feed painted a well-curated, living-the-goodlife picture. (Despite his avoidance of “shirt-off” pictures.) However, he was struggling, feeling incompetent, and ready to give up on health, fitness, and vitality.

Now, this might sound weird, but after 25 years of coaching I’ve seen a lot of guys in their underwear. Literally and metaphorically.

Their tailored suits (or baggy sweatshirts) have to come off. Measurements must be taken, progress evaluated, challenges highlighted, obstacles dealt with.

That’s when everyone realizes…

“That Guy” doesn’t exist.

It’s so easy to believe that Everyone Else is doing better than you.

Everyone Else is losing weight or gaining muscle or getting fitter so much faster and more effortlessly than you.

Everyone Else has their shit together. Everyone Else has everything you don’t. It feels like you’re the only person in the world with your problems. That it’s much harder for you than for everyone else.

The truth:

There is no Everyone Else.

You see…

No one can escape the reality of family and deadlines and the thermodynamic laws that govern metabolism.

Not Chris Hemsworth, not Zac Efron, not anyone.

That Guy doesn’t exist the way you think he does.

We are all imperfect, striving, struggling, very-much-human beings with hopes and fears and desires and neuroses and jobs and lives and kids and dogs or cats and family demands and toilets that need unclogging and lines-becoming-wrinkles and hangnails and alarms that go off too early and a love of chocolate-chip cookies… and all the rest of reality.

None of it gets easier with make-believe.

It’s only once we’re able to be honest about what’s going on in our lives — to stop worrying about being the only person who isn’t fit enough, smart enough, together enough, getting enough things done in a day, isn’t a good enough father / husband / worker, whatever — that we can start becoming our own versions of That Guy.

Want to know how it’s done? Check out these 6 steps.

Step 1. Reconsider your expectations.

Here’s the good news: You can get into That-Guy-in-Men’s-Health shape. As in, it is physically possible for your torso to look like that.

The question is: Can you afford to make nutrition and fitness your number one priority — above not just dessert, but also your partner, your kids, your job… all of it?

As we explored in our article The Cost of Getting Lean, getting into magazine-cover shape is intense. You have to give up some part of your life to accomplish this.

You eat out of Tupperware. You measure everything that goes into your mouth. Your entire routine revolves around eating (or not eating), working out, and sleeping so you have enough energy to work out again.

This is reserved for people who get paid a lot to have that body. (Actors have a staff of professionals making sure they roll into shoots looking ab-tastic, and then of course there’s the magic of post-production digital editing.)

But, even then, That Guy doesn’t look like you think he does all the time. He only looks like that sometimes.

And when he does look like that, his life is much less awesome than you think. He ate three ounces of plain cold chicken out of a Ziploc bag at last weekend’s family barbecue and then went back to the gym for his second workout of the day.

But that’s not to say getting in shape isn’t worth it. Even more, getting into reasonable, moderate shape isn’t too complicated.

All you need are small consistent changes here and there. Walking the dog after dinner, perhaps a couple weekly lifting sessions at the gym, and including an apple in your lunch is a good start.

Getting into pretty good shape is trickier, but can be done if you’re committed. You might need to focus more on food quality and portion sizes, working out a bit more, and being more careful with your indulgences. Still doable if you’re so inclined.

When Precision Nutrition Coaching clients are finally able to recognize and internalize all this, a major breakthrough usually follows.

Because they’re finally able to see the really great, totally attainable versions of That Guy they can become. They can quit spinning their wheels for a goal that’s actually, it turns out, pretty undesirable. They start focusing on healthy habits that can be squared with the rest of their life’s priorities.

Step 2. Look for real-life role models.

When we see someone in a magazine (or on Instagram) we don’t know who they are, how they feel, or what their life is really like.

If you’re data-driven like me, that’s useless. Especially since real-life role models are around us all the time — and they can give us data to work with.

Think about the grandfather who always has energy to joyfully play with his grandkids. How did he stay fit as he aged?

Or your colleague who sneaks off during lunch to take a yoga class. He’s a little sheepish about it, but he still goes. (And he’s always so calm afterwards.) How does he find the motivation?

Or the neighborhood dad who teaches the kids baseball. (And miraculously never loses his patience.) What does he do to get out of work early?

Small moments of health, fitness, and wellness are everywhere. If you take them you’ll be surprised at how quickly you’re playing the role of That Guy.

Step 3. Apply fitness minimalism.

Small steps… they don’t come with much fanfare, do they? But this is the unsexy truth of how we get things done.

Don’t have time to exercise? Some push-ups and air squats before you leave the house in the morning. A 10-minute walk at lunch. A few sets of sprints while dinner’s in the oven. Or a game of “crawl on Daddy’s back while he tries to plank”.

Do what you can, when you can, with what you can.

Think your diet sucks? Just pick one thing about the way you eat — the thing you think will make the biggest improvement to your nutrition — and focus on it exclusively for a couple of weeks.

Want to drink one fewer beer per night? Eat a salad once a day? Skip dessert or replace it with something healthier?

Pick one thing and practice it each day. Forget about everything else. Then, when you’ve got it down, add a new thing.

Maybe you think the effort is so small that it doesn’t “count”. But that’s not true. Success is almost always built from putting small things on top of small things on top of small things… until they’re transformed into big things.

Step 4. Get help to find your work-arounds.

It’s not all-or-nothing. If you can’t do an exercise or eat a certain healthy food, don’t let it be a reason to do nothing. Find a work-around. Get help if you need it.

No, I’m serious.

Do you ask for what you need? Is your pride in the way? Don’t let it be. Figure out what kind of support you require. Ask for it. Then accept the help.

If your knees aren’t as sturdy as they used to be, think about branching out from your usual running routine. Or ask a coach how an exercise can be modified.

Hate working out alone? Join a local running or cycling group, or arrange a workout with a workout partner.

Having trouble “finding time” for things? Get out a calendar and start planning. Book appointments with yourself. Track your time so you spot inefficiencies. Set alarms and reminders, stick Post-it notes, do whatever it takes.

Everyone has to work at it, even That Guy. Especially at the beginning.

People hate the feeling of exercise when they’re out of shape. People suck when they start a new sport. No one deadlifts 500 pounds on the first try.

Funny thing: we don’t really start getting better until we face up to our own limitations.

We have to ask for help (and accept it). We have to embrace small improvements that add up over time. We have to evolve past an “all or nothing” attitude.

We have to pick ourselves up after we fall down, and make course corrections.

Ironically, realizing you can’t do everything yourself, and allowing yourself to ask for help, is what takes real courage. Shaking hands firmly with reality and looking it in the eye is a much manlier approach than living in la-la land.

Step 5. Heed your dashboard indicator lights.

It’s OK to need a little help. But, sometimes, we need more than a little help. Like when we’re experiencing:

chronic insomnia or poor quality sleep

chronic pain or lack of mobility

frequent injuries and/or illnesses

chronic and debilitating depression, anxiety, or other mental health concerns

chronic social isolation and relationship difficulties

chronic lethargy and lack of energy

feeling like you need alcohol or recreational drugs to function

concerns with food, eating, and/or exercise that seem to be taking over your life and/or harming your health

Of course, a blinking indicator light — perhaps triggered by a debilitating gym injury, getting a scary medical diagnosis, or ending a relationship — can end up being exactly the wake-up call we needed to start working on ourselves.

But get real with yourself for a second: Is fitness distracting you from a more serious problem that seems too heavy to think about?

If so, try talking to a doctor, trained coach, counselor, or other health care professional.

Step 6. Embrace the struggle.

It’s not going anywhere. Grappling with pain — whether that’s actual pain and suffering, or just small daily annoyances — is part of being human.

As adults, we recognize life’s complexity and richness. Wanting to “be perfect” or “have it all” is not an adult wish. It’s a child wish: to have all the toys, all the time, even your brother’s.

Everyone has a struggle, even That Guy. You might just not see it. For instance:

33% of our male clients take prescription medication.

Of those taking meds, 24% take antidepressant or anti-anxiety medication.

36% of our clients have injuries. And many struggle with chronic pain.

17% of our male clients are over 50. (Even if you’re healthy, aging brings its own challenges.)

In addition, many clients in our men’s coaching program tell us they feel like their schedule has taken over their health. They’re too busy and too stressed.

Plus, many challenges are invisible. You often can’t see pain or disability. You often can’t see psychological distress. Unless you see someone pop a pill, you don’t know what they’re taking.

And guess what — the PN staff struggle with the exact same things.

We have injuries. Or had them. Or will have them.

We’ve struggled with mental and emotional health sometimes. Or often.

We’ve struggled with addictions — whether that’s to work, or exercise, or food, or alcohol, or anything else that someone could get hooked on.

We’ve gained too much weight, or been scrawny, or gone weeks or months without working out.

And we’ve definitely had times where we struggled to “get it all done”.

No matter what the challenge is, at least a few of us have faced it.

And remember, That Guy, who looks so fit and healthy, may be in the middle of a long and difficult journey.

Like the cancer survivors whom we coached through post-treatment rehab.

Like people who are coming back from an injury or illness.

Like people who just have so much on their metaphorical plate, and feel every emotion — stress, happiness, sadness, you name it — as hunger.

No matter how someone looks, you don’t know what it’s taken to get where they are today. We’re all out here in the field together. Trying our best under imperfect circumstances.

Accepting imperfection and the reality of being human is your ticket to being your version of That Guy.

You don’t have to wait. Or wish you were someone else. Or both.

You can choose to embrace the struggle, accept your “not OK-ness”, and start to chase your awesome anyway.

Right here, right now.

What to do next

Most guys I’ve coached spend a lot of time thinking about That Guy. But instead of feeling inspired, they feel paralyzed. That’s when we focus on the following:

1. Don’t get hung up on failures.

Most people who enroll in Precision Nutrition Coaching have failed at losing weight and getting in shape before they finally reach out to us.

For guys, that can be tough to get over. They’ve been successful in other areas of their lives. Now they’re pissed.

However, it’s crucial to think of any failed weight loss attempts as feedback that’s going to inform how you’ll succeed this time.

What did you do last time and the time before? What worked and what didn’t?

We’re big on self exploration at PN (if you couldn’t already tell). Understanding what hasn’t worked for you is key to regaining ownership over your health (and your That Guy-ness).

2. Think about what success looks like for you.

Build your mental picture of That Guy. What’s he doing? What does he look like?

Is he killing it in a Spartan race? Surfing while on vacation?

Is he climbing trees with his kids? Playing touch football with his buddies — without getting winded?

All of the above?

That’s going to be you in a few months, if you approach your goal with the realities of your life in mind.

Keep your eyes trained on your version of That Guy.

3. Build workarounds and bridges on the path to That Guy.

You’re about to become an engineer of the health-focused strategies that work with your life. Start practicing.

Take one problem at a time — one barrier to eating well or working out, and experiment with different workarounds or bridges.

How can you overcome that one obstacle today? Can you do it again tomorrow?

4. Just start acting like That Guy.

Adopt his confidence. Assume you’re capable of the things he is. Find ways to relieve your stress so you can feel a little lighter and more free today.

No, you can’t lose 40 pounds or get ripped overnight. But if you just take on a few of That Guy’s habits, one at a time and little by little. It’ll jump-start your progress in a big way.

5. Start assembling your team.

Truth: Life is not a do-it-yourself project.

So, ask yourself:

Who do you need in your life to help you become the person you want to be?

What support systems will you need to become your own version of “That Guy”?

Consider who you can recruit to help you achieve your goals. A trusted buddy or family member, a coach, counselor, or other health care provider? If so, find them and share your vision with them. Ask for what you need. Let them help.

Change does not happen spontaneously. Along with helpers, you need systems. Things that remind you, guide you, help you, fill in the gaps for you, and generally help you stay more or less on track.

Start actively seeking out the support systems that will help you get to where you want to go.

Want help becoming the healthiest, fittest, strongest version of you?

Most people know that regular movement, eating well, sleep, and stress management are important for looking and feeling better. Yet they need help applying that knowledge in the context of their busy, sometimes stressful lives.

That’s why we work closely with Precision Nutrition Coaching clients to help them lose fat, get stronger, and improve their health… no matter what challenges they’re dealing with.

It’s also why we work with health, fitness and wellness professionals (through our Level 1 and Level 2 Certification programs) to teach them how to coach their own clients through the same challenges.

Interested in Precision Nutrition Coaching? Join the presale list; you’ll save up to 54% and secure a spot 24 hours early.

We’ll be opening up spots in our next Precision Nutrition Coaching on Wednesday, June 6th, 2018.

If you’re interested in coaching and want to find out more, I’d encourage you to join our presale list below. Being on the list gives you two special advantages.

You’ll pay less than everyone else. At Precision Nutrition we like to reward the most interested and motivated people because they always make the best clients. Join the presale list and you’ll save up to 54% off the general public price, which is the lowest price we’ve ever offered.

You’re more likely to get a spot. To give clients the personal care and attention they deserve, we only open up the program twice a year. Last time we opened registration, we sold out within minutes. By joining the presale list you’ll get the opportunity to register 24 hours before everyone else, increasing your chances of getting in.

If you’re ready to change your body, and your life, with help from the world’s best coaches, this is your chance.

[Note: If your health and fitness are already sorted out, but you’re interested in helping others, check out our Precision Nutrition Level 1 Certification program].

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