#so instead I committed to the bit and suffered for baseball. it was however very fun

[crossbackpoke-check]

back above the dugout 🧢

[kakusu-shipping]

Ah yes, Danganronpa self-inserts with wildly elaborate stories I made specifically so I can date an average of two characters per game. Exactly what everyone wanted to see at 3:30 on a Tuesday morning.

I am Emile and I know the people. Here’s the stories I spent way too long a time on:

The Ultimate Collector V1

In Universe Name: Ryuji Nosuke

Game: DR Trigger Happy Havoc

Ships with Hifumi Yamada + Monokuma

Ryuji and his younger brother, Jiro, spent their lives collecting anything and everything they ever found interesting. All of their money went to their collection. When Hope’s Peak went scouting for The Ultimate Collector, a choice had to be made between the two boys.

The school ultimately went with the older, more out going of the twins, Ryuji.

Ryuji spent much of his time in school listening in on other’s conversations, collecting information and secrets. He only trusted this collection to a fellow collector, his classmate Hifumi Yamada. He and Hifumi got along great, they spent hours talking about only the things that interested them, mostly anime and collectable figures, and the importance of a clean display case.

During the killing game, Ryuji became enamored with the walking, talking teddy bear Monokuma, and as the ultimate collector does, made it his life mission to add the toy to his collection. He’d do anything Monokuma asked of him, even commit murder.

The Ultimate Collector V2

In Universe Name: Jiro Nosuke

Game: Super DR2 (Island Life only)

Ships with Teruteru Hanamura + The Ultimate Imposter

Jiro and his older brother, Ryuji, spent their lives collecting anything and everything they ever found interesting. All of their money went to their collection. When Hope’s Peak went scouting for The Ultimate Collector, a choice had to be made between the two boys.

The school ultimately went with the younger, more reserves of the twins, Jiro.

During Island Life, Jiro found it difficult to collect friendship fragments, or get close to anyone. He was always quiet, preferred objects over real people most the time. However, due to his picky eating habits, he was forced to speak to at least one person on the Island, Teruteru.

Jiro spent much of his free time in the kitchen of the restaurant. He’d sit curled in a corner, quietly waiting for a special meal made just for him. Teruteru would typically carry the conversations during these times together. Jiro enjoyed listening to the chef, especially when his real accent would slip out.

Eventually, Jiro was sent out on a scouting mission to find flowers deep in the island’s forest, alone. Questionable judgment on Hajime’s part, as Jiro tended to get lost when left on his own. Which is exactly what happened. Twogami, being the only one to so far explore the forest, went out on a rescue mission for Jiro, and eventually returned with the smaller boy in their arms.

This is where Jiro was hit with the big old emotions truck. Not really sure how to handle them, he told the only person he considered a friend, Teruteru, what was happening. Teru was, surprisingly, a little heart broken, as he’d come to form a real crush on his silent kitchen lurker.

Of course, being the real friend Teruteru was, he encouraged Jiro to go after his crush. And he did. Jiro began to spend free times out of the kitchen, and around Twogami, learning about them bit by bit until he eventually discovered who they really were.

The Ultimate Collector V3

In universe name: Jiro Nosuke

Game: Ultra Despair Girls (only if Ultimate collector V1 exists)

Ships with Toko Fukawa

Ryuji and his younger brother, Jiro, spent their lives collecting anything and everything they ever found interesting. All of their money went to their collection. When Hope’s Peak went scouting for The Ultimate Collector, a choice had to be made between the two boys.

The school ultimately went with the older, more out going of the twins, Ryuji.

Jiro wasn’t really sure how he came to live in an apartment by himself. Living in it wasn’t exactly the right wording, more like... cadged in it.

Not that it was all bad. Other than his older brother, Jiro didn’t have any real friends or connections outside of the house, so living bared in an apartment building where a mysterious person brings him top of the line meals daily wasn’t that big a deal.

The biggest deal was that he didn’t have any of his stuff.

(This is basically UDG only I, Jiro, take the place of Komaru. The only difference is none of the kids die because I, with Toko’s help, manage to save them from their execution and slowly gain their trust)

The Ultimate Softball Pro V1

In Universe Name: Hibiki Imai (Nicknamed Biki)

Game: DRv3 (In mention only)

Ships with Ryoma Hoshi

Biki didn’t really like Softball, he preferred Baseball. But not every school would be as Trans-inclusive as Hope’s Peak, so Hibiki played Softball. It really turned out to be a good thing, as Hope’s Peak already HAD an Ultimate Baseball Pro.

At Hope’s Peak, Biki kept mostly to himself, gently throwing a ball up and catching it during class. And despite his amazing arm, and typically solid catch, everyone slips up some times. Luckily, the ultimate tennis pro, Ryoma Hoshi, happened to sit next to Hibiki, and caught the ball just in time to keep Biki out of trouble with the teacher.

The two sports pros started hanging out, tossing a baseball back and forth as the wandered the school grounds. Neither of them had much to do, it’s not like they played on sports teams, despite their titles.

Eventually, Biki learned or Ryoma’s past, his trauma and the loss he suffered. In return, Ryoma learned of the struggled Biki faced, and the very similar trauma he went though involving his sport as well. The only difference was Biki didn’t serve time for his mistakes.

They bonded over this almost exact past, and built each other back up from their guilt and grief.

During the killing game, Ryoma is not only given his own Kubz pad, but one with the wrong recording on it. He is reminded of Hibiki though the Kubz Pad flashback light properties, and is filled of the will to live on to one day see Biki again.

The Ultimate Softball Pro V2

In universe name: Hibiki Imai (Nicknamed Biki)

Game: DRv3

Ships with Gonta Gokuhara

In an alternate universe where Biki did end up in the killing game, he is completely unaware of his relationship with Ryoma until he receives his Kubz pad. And while Ryoma got his own motive as well, he was not given the recording with Hibiki in it, and is instead told he has no one.

Biki kept the relationship with Ryoma to himself, figuring Ryoma may not know and wanting to talk about it when they had a moment to themselves. You can imagine his despair when Ryoma was dropped into the piranha tank.

Gonta, already being on top of the tank, was the one to stop Hibiki from jumping in after Ryoma. He kept the Softball Pro restrained as the tank was broken and the water was drained. His explanation for his relationship with Ryoma came out after everyone else saw Ryoma’s motive video.

After the trial, Hibiki fell into despair. He stopped coming to breakfast, and barely left his room. Gonta was the one to bring him food and continuously check up on him, like a true gentleman.

Hibiki only really started to liven back up after chapter 3′s trial, and starts coming out of his room more. He remained close to Gonta during these times, however, and continued to rely on him for support.

This just added to the fuel for Gonta in chapter 4, as what Kochichi said, that knowing the truth would just push everyone into Despair, hit even harder for Gonta, having been so close to Biki during his struggle to get over loosing Ryoma.

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 102 Thoughts

Any of you ever watch Imagine Me & You?

In it, some small child whose name I can’t remember asks what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. The answer given by one of the romantic leads whose name I remember slightly better but am pretending not to is that they can’t both exist.

Taking all bets, folks.

First thing’s first, and oh my gosh, it actually comes first in the chapter! What witchcraft is this!

That’s way more visually appealing in the manga, but. ...I mean, looking at it, all of my reasons seem very silly, because that is horrible and I could probably be spending this time making it better, but I’m not going to, so now we’re all sad.

It’s a metaphor.

(it wasn’t supposed to be)

Anyway, the in-universe confirmation that wow, this is all a bit much, are you sure any of this was a good idea? is greatly appreciated. Expected, on some level, but when the story starts going dark places, it’s easy to distrust the motivation. So I remain a mostly unhappy camper at this getaway, but canon taking a moment to pause and wonder why someone thought this was a good plan is nice.

I’m going to get lost in questions and character stuff very quickly, so for the sake of making sense of what is going on in The Plan, bullet points are my new friends.

Jaws and Cartman are were contained

Scouts are closing off the streets and killing enemy combatants

Civilian casualties are considered un-ideal--officially

Lamps are being positioned on high buildings

The plan is contingent on disabling the War Hammer Titan ‘in time’

Eren nomming the War Hammer is in his book as a Good End

Survival is emphasized over everything else

My guess is that no one wanted this (whatever it is) to turn into a Titan brawl. If everything had gone according to plan and stayed that way, Pieck and Galliard would be imprisoned, no Marlyean soldiers would be left alive within the internment zone, and the War Hammer and an impressive number of prominent government officials would be dead.

Currently, the Panzer Unit is live, Galliard’s running about, War Hammer is not contained, and the Beast Titan is here.

The Beast Titan would have appeared either way (like the lamps, which have me wondering if Armin is showing up), because no steps were taken to contain him. Both sides have been counting on the Beast Titan to be available in the coming something or other.

Zeke has been kept in the shadows as far as a lot of his feelings on things. He disdains war and copes by treating it as a game, and he loves his family. The inner workings of all of that isn’t readily available, making him a potential wildcard. Since Eren’s taken up baseball, the thought of something being up with him has been a topic of active discussion.

If things went as planned, the Survey Corps + Eren would have unfettered access to Zeke. Titan holder, primary instrument of the most vile Marley offenses, and someone with royal blood. Only two people alive can say that last one, and one of them is presumably still an ally to her military.

Confronting Zeke is a reasonable plan in most every category you could ask for. Wanting to face him in isolation makes perfect sense, and you can’t say that about many of the known quantities here. My questions are if what he knew what he would be walking into, if Eren wants something different from what the Scouts want out of him, and if Zeke’s commitment to Marley’s side is as plain as it looks.

Since the Yeager boys have been so hush hush about what they’re up to lately, I’m not very interested in speculating (Zeke’s face has Isayama lines, but to be fair, a lot of people just died, and he does dislike war), but I am looking forward to the answers.

...Well, I say that. However

If nothing comes of Galliard trusting Zeke’s presence to be a good thing while his frame emphasizes light next to Pieck’s silent shadow... I will be disappointed. If anyone’s keeping score, Eren’s frame is more of a midtone shadow. I believe Pieck’s is darker, but that could be an optical illusion since her frame is descending into darker tones, and Eren’s lighting is evenly dispersed within his frame.

And since there’s only three panels left on the page, the other people having flashlights on their faces are Magath and his surviving troops and Gabi.

Symbolism.

Or not, but I’d like it to be.

Let’s move on to angry children, also known as Gabi and Floch. With Gabi first because oh hell, kid. Kid. Her friends are dead. People she saw every single day on her way to achieving her greatest pride are dead. There’s no rhyme or reason to it that she understands, or even maybe could understand, given what Marley’s done to her, she’s still alive, and she’s angry.

We’ve seen that anger in the exact person it’s aimed at. Hopefully Gabi learns a thing or two from it, preferably without getting killed in the process. Her cousin’s still MIA (Reiner is either having a horrific mental breakdown, going to go full Warrior mode and make everyone’s awkward planning more awkward by exploding out of the ground, or unconscious, and all of these choices make me feel really bad for Falco--who is a character who can still have a worst day of his life instead of stopping to debate which one was truly worst), and...

Gabi may have no problem committing war crimes to win a fight, but she’s a child who wants to be a Warrior so she can help her cousin. She’s not innocent in the usual sense that children are, but she is a child, and she has a very soft heart.

Sasha spares her life, but Gabi’s living a nightmare, and the devils of Paradis brought it to her.

-rewards Sasha a “You Tried” star-

Our other angry child should know better, but even though it hasn’t been explicitly stated, it’s basically been established that therapy does not exist in this world. Floch is where he was four years ago. He’s upset at the injustices he’s suffered, and willing to lash out at anything connected to what’s responsible.

Jean’s best feature as a leader has always been understanding people’s weakness. But I think with Floch, he’s found something of a barrier to communication. We’ve seen Jean try to talk to him before, and if their interaction here is anything to go by, he hasn’t stopped. Except as much as Jean knows about personal weakness, hate isn’t something I think he gets.

Arguably, it’s because he knows so much about personal weakness that his feelings don’t fester into something dangerous (Connie has a similar moment when he says he understands why someone would kill Sawney and Bean).

Jean sees the big picture. He knows there are more victims than just them here.

Floch sees his personal pain, and bleeds all over everyone. He’s destroying a zone full of people who have been more warped and abused than he has any empathy for, and feels he’s in the right because look at what they’ve done to us.

And look at what their side has done to someone like Gabi.

I don’t think the two situations are the same, thanks to Marley’s copious awfulness getting into every potential interaction both sides of Eldians can have, but the emotional response is easy to see:

These people did a horrible thing.

They should be punished.

Only the root cause of everything goes so much deeper than all of that, and it’s not something that can be fixed by lopping off flowers. Gabi is like. twelve, and her emotional trauma just happened. Floch is like. twelve, and he was getting by just fine before the mess he survived four years ago.

And it is painfully obvious how much that specific event has trained Floch’s thinking. He wants Erwin to survive the Serum Bowl because Erwin is the devil humanity needs to break them free of their cage.

He’s grown up since then. Humanity doesn’t need Erwin to be their devil. Humanity just needs a devil.

Look. Eren?

Floch_is_agreeing_with_things_you_did.

Mikasa is not.

Regardless of what this plan is, you have made your mistakes and they are many, and the first statement does keep in mind that those mistakes might very well be the whole point but come on.

This chapter is hard to read, and I really wanted to open this post saying thank you for Mikasa Ackerman’s existence, because I don’t think I have ever been more grateful to see her.

I haven’t bothered obfuscating how much I loathe Marley. I think their conduct is evil, and the world would be better off if they got wiped off the map. All those angry child feels from above are actively present when I consider what they’ve done with their nation.

One of the recurring... is it a theme? It feels like a theme, but it’s also sort of just a random thing I’m pointing out, and the language I want to use implies things about the story that I’m not sure is really an objective. In any case, something we see over and over again in this series is that monsters are human.

Gabi watches a whole squad of soldiers get demolished. Among them is a man who watches the gate she passes in order to train to be a Warrior. He treats her as a child more than an Eldian, and knows enough about each individual Warrior candidate ask about their progress and laugh about Falco’s crush.

He’s a human being.

The children he’s being friendly with have been coerced into indentured servitude and live in internment camps that are under constant watch, where leaving is punishable by--well, people like him. He’s a cog in an abhorrent machine. One small piece that helps keep it running.

Humans do evil things. You could probably have a lot of fun arguing that a human’s capacity for evil is part of what makes them human. Evil monsters aren’t always creatures beyond understanding or sympathy. Sometimes they’re just people who take the easy path that someone else burned down a forest to make.

You could also argue that part of what makes a human human is their capacity for goodness in the midst of evil. The guard spends the last moments of his life trying to keep a little girl safe.

I don’t like Marley, but I like seeing the sparks of decency in people start a flame. You want to believe that if people can be good to each other even when they’re covered in muck and sin, that goodness deserves a chance to make it out alive and flourish. You want to think that if everyone could just be convinced to be their best self, the world would be okay.

A lot of sparks are snuffed out during this attack.

Marley getting wiped off the map without devastation and heartbreak is a nice pipe dream, and I might still daydream about it or hand-wave things in fics, but regardless of my personal angry child feelings, there’s too much death here to feel good about any of this.

So I really, really appreciate that Mikasa Ackerman exists. She’s here for Eren, and she’s actively participating in this operation, but you can see her heart breaking at what’s been done. People are dead. Civilian people. Children. This is something that’s happened, and there’s no fixing it. There’s only pain at the result.

Mikasa is the stoic badass. But all she’s ever wanted is for her family to be at home with her. However she counts them, they’re what’s nearest and dearest to her heart. She has extraordinary combat skills, and if she could go the rest of her life without needing them, she would be happier.

Someone suggested that one of the Scouts present could be the little girl that Mikasa saves in Trost. I have no idea if that will pan out or not, but I love the idea.

The anime’s handling of Mikasa deciding to live during Trost is what hooked me in this series, but the moment with that little girl is one of my favorites for her. She charges in, kills a titan, threatens a dude, and leaves. Perfect hero is perfect even with only that, but the little girl and her mother, instead of running to evacuate now that they can, stop and thank her. And Mikasa turns back and salutes them.

Their salute in this world is meant to represent offering up their hearts to humanity. Mikasa has select few people she loves beyond all else, but whenever she steps in to fight, she does so wanting people to be safe. She feels her responsibility towards her comrades more keenly and openly than many of the characters we’re familiar with.

Mikasa’s line about the world being cruel, yet beautiful, is one of the more memorable ones in the series. As a theme, it’s marvelous, but as something that comes out of a character’s head, it’s... very gentle and touching. The world is cruel, but while it’s being cruel, there’s still warmth. Even from people who are now gone.

Mikasa is a kind person who gives small children her time and nearly cries at her friend’s joy when he finally gets to play in the ocean. She’s known terrible cruelty at the world’s hands, but she also loves the world’s beauty. It isn’t an empty acknowledgment. She sees it, and she feels it, and she fights for it.

What Eren just did is... abominable. She loves him, but... hell, every beautiful panel of Mikasa and Eren before the War Hammer gets back up is a testament to how much pain he’s caused, and how much heartbreak is involved.

Mikasa is compassionate, and this arc... really needs that.

Even if now I’m wondering if “Too Little, Too Late,” is referring to her instead of one of the larger sides. That title really works for anything you want to stick it to, since the phrase is basically shorthand for ��everything’s fucked.”

This series has gotten painful in ways I didn’t exactly need it to.

Monthly serials hurt.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @thepsychicclam!

What I want for Christmas (is you).

The park was quiet and desolate, shimmering with the falling snow. Tips of Derek’s ears tickled with cold air nipping at them and he wondered for a moment if his companion was freezing to the bones, after all, humans didn’t have excessive body heat. But Stiles just bounced away from his jeep, grinning from ear to ear.

“What am I doing here again?”

“Helping me sharpen my awesome magical skills.”

Derek arched his eyebrow and Stiles’s heart skipped a bit, but that went unnoticed because Derek was staring at a little snowflake that landed right on top of boy’s eyelashes, so perfectly white and fluffy next to his liquid amber eyes. How dare it.

“For the record, I’d rather be at home reading a book.”

“You can sulk and read a book any time you want, but I have only a week left before going back to school. So why don’t you just. LET.IT.GO.”

Stiles’s smugness lasted exactly 0.36 seconds until he slipped and planted his ass onto the ground.

***

“This is your idea of training? Me pitching and you hitting baseballs with your spells?”

“’No, Derek, hitting them with my bat. Enforced by magic. No spells involved- at least no verbal ones. “

“So, you will actually be quiet for a change? Hallelujah.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Ha-ha, very funny. It will be very useful in case someone tries to kill us, again. Come on, give me all you’ve got, big guy.”

Derek spun the ball in his hand and smirked, “I’m not sure you can handle it.”

Stiles’s smirk mirrored his, “You’ll be surprised”.

***

“I knew it was a bad idea!”

“How was I supposed to know we would hit someone? Something? It’s not like I was aiming on purpose! What even is it? A drone? Superman? Aliens?” - Stiles gestured fervently as they made way through the trees, following a dark smoke trail in the sky. Derek managed to evade getting slapped in the face by Stiles’s hands flying in all directions, but in the end Stiles did get him with a tree branch right across the forehead.  Suddenly, Derek’s werewolf senses tingled, and he grabbed Stiles, ignoring a surprised “umph”, and brought them to a full stop.

“What is it?”

“I smell something.”

“You smell some what? Can you be more specific, may be? Is it animals? Smoke? The scent of my general despair?”

“Reindeer.”

Stiles’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

“A reindeer?”

“Not “a”, I can hear a herd of them. I also smell chocolate. And…coal?”

Stiles scrunched his face into a confused frown, then suddenly his eyes lit up.

“Reindeer, chocolate and…Oh my god! Dude!”

Derek didn’t have time to sound a question, because he was being unceremoniously dragged forward by Stilinski tornado. He thought of using his werewolf power to slow them down but wasn’t even sure he could- Stiles’s magic (or spark, or whatever) and excitement washed over him like a warm breeze, and Derek just went with it.

***

“I never though you would be so…”

“I believe the word you are looking for is voluptuous”, Santa Claus – or a gentleman who looked suspiciously like him - smiled at the two men and proceeded to put festively wrapped presents back into his sled.

“Fat, the word I was looking for is fat.” – Stiles yelped when Derek elbowed him,

“You can’t just tell Santa he is fat!”

Santa Claus erupted with laughter, “Oh, no worries, my dear boy, I do find this concern about my health rather endearing. Now, if you are in no rush, could you please assist me with fixing the sled? I have a very tight schedule to follow, you see.”

Derek’s face burned when he saw a gaping hole in the sled’s right side. Looked like Stiles’s magic worked after all - may be a little too well.

“I have duct tape in my jeep”.  Stiles shrugged and looked at Derek. Derek wanted to stay and ask a myriad of questions or just stare at the Santa Claus, because, you know, Santa freaking Claus, but instead he sighed and turned back to the parking lot, “I’ll bring a tool kit from the car”.

***

“Forgive my candor, but your friend doesn’t seem to be in much of a festive mood.”

Santa looked so concerned, so worried, with warm eyes crinkling under the bushy white eyebrows, that Stiles didn’t have a courage to deflect.

“Well, I loved Christmas when I was a child, and I bet Derek loved it too- he is a big softie inside, underneath all that brood and gloom. But after I lost my mom, it was never the same, you know? I mean, my dad tried, and he is awesome but it just is not the same. And Derek? Derek lost his whole family, he doesn’t even have anyone to celebrate with, aside from a deadbeat sister and psychopathic uncle.”

“I see.”

“Sorry to poop on your parade, man.”

A heavy hand landed on Stiles’s shoulder and he instantly calmed down,

“Not at all”.

Sound of approaching footsteps made them look up, and Stiles quickly leaned in and whispered,

“I know I shouldn’t ask, we both are definitely on a very naughty list but, is it possible Derek can catch a break? Like, just a year of no one trying to kill him? Just one year of peace, so he can read his damn books and not be on the run all the time? And may be something to make him happy? He deserves it.”

“And what about you?”

Stiles shrugged, “It’s ok, I’ll manage.”

Santa tilted his head, then winked, “I’ll see what I can do.”

***

When Derek returned to the place of the crash, following a trace of coals and Stiles’s smell, the sled, Santa and all his reindeer were gone. Felt like a kick in the gut, but then again- maybe he dreamed it all? May be Santa was never there and he simply got struck in the head with a baseball?

Stiles.

“Where are you?” Derek suddenly felt his heart rate pick up. The sled was gone, but so was Stiles and all the footprints. No mark, no trace. Nothing.

“Stiles!”

The toolkit fell on the snow, forgotten, as Derek frantically smelled the air, tried to hear something- anything, and looked into the woods searching for a familiar human shape. Suddenly there was a noise behind him and he growled, letting the wolf come to the front and express his frustration and anger, only to have Stiles burst through the bushes and yelp in surprise.

“Shit, Derek, stop scaring me, man!”

“Where were you? And where is the sled?”

“Sorry, he couldn’t wait. “

Derek huffed, grabbed the toolkit from the ground and hurried back to the car. Screw this stupid idea, screw this holiday, and screw Stiles. He didn’t know why he was so upset but he was, and it stung like hell.

“What? If you wanted to talk to him, you should’ve stayed! And may be asked for something to lighten up your mood.”

Derek gave Stiles a stinky eye,

“Or maybe I wouldn’t”.

He expected the boy to roll his eyes and move on, but instead Stiles personal space, what is that Stilinski got right up his face, eyes flaming with anger.

“Wouldn’t what? Ask for a present? Why, cause you are to good to ask? No, wait, let me guess- ‘cause you don’t deserve it because you still blame yourself for all that happened, even if that was none of your fault? Is that it? Derek-the-martyr Hale, suffering for the crimes he didn’t commit?”

“Or maybe I wouldn’t ask for anything from him because I already have all I want!”

“And what would that be, huh? An empty loft and an old car? You’ve got nothing, Derek, not even…”

“I have you!”

“What? Wait, what? “

Derek let out a deep sigh, “I already have all I want- you- here, with me. I don’t need anything else. Happy now?”

Stiles stared at him with mouth open, and Derek felt his whole face burn while Stiles’s brain gears slowly began to work.

“You have me, like. Hale, are you saying that you like me? Like, like me like me? Oh my god! How long? Derek, for how long have you…”

“Since the pool.”

“Since the p…Do you even know I’ve been in love with you for four years? Why the hell haven’t you said anything?!”

“I didn’t!”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t know? How could you not know, you are a goddamn werewolf for fucks sake, you can smell those things!”

“You were a teenager, you smelled horny all the time!”

“OK, fair enough. But what about my heartbeat?! What, you never heard me going into a cardiac arrest every time you paraded around half-naked?”

“I don’t listen to your heartbeat unless you are in distress.”

“Why the hell not?!”

“Because it’s private! And by the way why haven’t you ever said anything?”

“Said what? That I am hopelessly in love with you? You are Derek perfect freaking Hale, and I am, well, me! I’d never think I had a chance!”

“Stiles…”

The boy ran his fingers though his hair and turned away, exasperated.

“So, is this our first couples fight?”

Stiles looked at Derek with a mix of incredulity and frustration, then growled, making Derek shiver, and stomped towards him. Derek expected anything- a slap, a kick, may be a fist to the stomach, but instead Stiles grabbed his face and smashed their lips together. One second passed, then two, and then the anger and frustration melted away into relief and warmth, and two men lost themselves in the kiss.

“Does this mean you aren’t angry at me?”

“Angry? No. I am furious!”  - an accusational finger pocked Derek on the chest. “And this is exactly why you will spend the rest of my winter break making up for it.”

***

Ambers in the fireplace still smoldered and the tv rolled out the ending Star Wars credits when Stiles stirred awake. It was warm and kinda heavy to be tucked on the sofa with a werewolf blanket wrapped around him. He ran his fingers through the dark mess of Derek’s hair and smiled into the ceiling,

“Best Christmas present ever! Thank you, Santa!”

That wasn’t me.

“What?”

Now, this, however…

There was a knock on the door. Wait, did he really hear it? Maybe he was mistaken…

The knock repeated, more urgently this time.

Can’t be Scott, too early for him, and dad is on his shift…

The third time knock went into full-blown banging, and both men jumped awake.

“Stilinski, for crying out loud, stop humping Hale for a second and open up! We are freezing here!”

That voice…No, it can’t be!

Stiles rushed to the door and went into shock when Erica pushed him aside and stomped into the house.

“How are you…”

“Sup?” Boyd let himself in and followed Erica to the kitchen. Stiles’s shocked face was mirrored by Derek’s.

“Stiles? What is going on?” Stiles turned around and saw Allison, shivering in her summer dress amidst the snowy porch. A dress she was buried in.

“Allison? Oh my god, come in, you are freezing! How? How are you alive?”

Allison wrapped herself in a blanket timely provided by Derek and smiled, “I don’t know. I remember blood, and Scoot and dying in his arms, and then light, and someone’s voice telling me to wake up. And I suddenly was here, on your porch.”

Stiles couldn’t stop himself from bringing her in for a hug. She giggled into his shoulder, “Do you think this is permanent?”

Stiles looked at her, sparks playing in his eyes, “I’ll make sure it is.”

“Can you call my dad? Stiles?”

Stiles’s attention was drawn to two new people standing in the door.

“Stiles?”

Two dark-haired women, one young and one older, both smiling at Derek.

“That’s Laura and Talia Hale.”

And then there was a knock on the door. Stiles turned the doorknob lightheaded, his heart beating so fast it was about to jump out of his chest. He looked in the night and saw a familiar face.

“Mom?”

***

Between all the happy reunions, customary shovel talks and Laura and Erica bonding on embarrassing Derek as often as possible, this year’s Christmas was particularly crazy in the Stilinski-Hale household. But when the clock struck twelve on the New Year’s Eve, all realized they started the year in a best way possible- together, alive and happy.

And when Derek and Stiles kissed under a mistletoe that Laura threw at them, somewhere far-far away Santa scratched a wish off his list and smiled.

[junker-town]

No sports, no fun

Getty Images

Good bye, maybe.

I’m afraid I won’t ever feel again the way I did on Nov. 4, 2000, when I was not yet 13 years old and the pain was new and all-consuming. I loved sports so much it hurt, and that love bore bitter fruit when Anthony Thomas fumbled a football for no good reason, and Michigan lost to Northwestern, 54-51, in the most stunning game I can remember.

I couldn’t question the feeling, nor did I think it could be questioned; my amygdala pulled its trigger and I buried my face as deeply as I could into our cold, wave-patterned couch in the next room. My shock even erased the memory of the steps I took. I remember the twin feelings of a cold couch on my face and injustice. Or maybe not quite injustice, but something unfair. It didn’t feel targeted. For the first time maybe, I felt impersonal, unmotivated and heavy cruelty.

Thomas was a football player of mythic proportions, a torso of concrete and legs made thick just from making sure his upper half didn’t topple over. He was marvelous, and at all times mildly disappointing, a perfect picture of inefficient smashmouth football just before the sport discovered better ideas. Thomas carried the ball 37 times for 199 yards, but he was outdone by Damien Anderson, who rushed for 268 yards on 31 carries in a Randy Walker offense that was one of the first examples of spread football on a big stage.

That game would come to be known as one of the most influential in college football history because of the way an underpowered team shocked another team of Thomas-ian proportions. But lost in the final score is the way Thomas fumbled. He broke through the line for what should have been a game-winning first down, then he simply dropped the ball.

There was and is nothing to be learned from that. The whole was instructive; the details were not. Michigan would have won but Thomas dropped the ball, and then I hurt and I couldn’t make it stop.

I obsessed over that play. At the time, I obsessed over every aspect of Michigan football. I remember falling asleep thinking about Michigan’s ongoing high school recruiting class, its deficiencies and how the current commitments might shape the team. I used to take a football out to our front lawn and play out the upcoming games drive by drive, hucking the ball up in the air and running under it to make a big catch. If I was feeling generous, I’d give the opposition a rare interception. On a related note, I was a pretty lonely kid.

Before I developed a better relationship with sports, I approached them almost exclusively as something my team either won or lost. I decided I ought to take them very seriously, to the extent that everyone should think of me as a person who knew sports. I wanted to have the best answer to every question; I wanted to be a vessel of knowledge that others would rather submit to than challenge.

At the time, it seemed like a hobby. Now I know I was compensating for being a pipsqueak in every other regard. The problem, either way, was how much I had staked my confidence in being right.

In college, I took an internship at a fantasy sports website and learned how dumb I was. I found out there are people who seem to know every bit about everything — things like baseball — who could not only hold a greater mass of information in their brains than me, but could also do so without being an uptight dick about it.

What I should have learned was that caring about things intrinsically, and not for egotistical reasons, opens up our capacity to both know and love more about the world. Instead, I felt like I was drowning, like every moment more evidence was piling on top of me about what a fraud I was, faster than I could claw from under it.

I wondered if I could say I loved sports like I used to, or if I ever loved them to begin with. That period showed me a couple things: 1) That I could bull shit anything in writing, and 2) maybe I should readjust my relationship with sports.

I never stopped wanting to be a sportswriter, which I’ve wanted to be my whole life. But I also picked up a knack for editing, the process of turning your first thought into your best thought, of shaping and shielding and censoring an unvarnished self. That unvarnished self was often a truer self, perhaps. But it didn’t sing, and it never won.

I consider SB Nation my first real job, though when I started it only paid $1 more per hour than the fantasy gig. The difference was at SB Nation I saw a path to who I newly wanted to be. Which is to say, I started chasing a sense of superiority on moral grounds.

Working at SB Nation has never not been exciting, but my first and maybe last thrill was getting to say I worked with Spencer Hall. He’d become my favorite writer by crafting guttingly funny and guttingly poignant things about college football. A universe unfolded out of EDSBS.com, one that was weird and empathetic and antagonistic towards the capital-S Sportswriter lens and voice. Reading him gave me a physical sensation like my belly was made of splintered wood and a family of feral critters was tearing through, and that I ought to be happy for them.

I’ve read Spencer’s 2011 essay GOD’S AWAY ON BUSINESS dozens of times now and it never fails to scare the shit out of me.

None of this matters now. The man or woman in the desk is gone. They will not be returning anytime soon. Outside there are men roaming the streets. No one’s wondering who’s in charge, and that’s why the doors are locked, and the children inside quivering. When the desk is empty, it means anarchy is at your door. There are no permissions or courtesies. Shit just happens, and it happens all the time, and there’s no stopping it until everything you have is gone and bouncing out the door on the shoulders of thieves.

God, or anyone like him, is away on business.

I started aping Spencer then, and I’m still aping him now, though I feel more like myself. Mimic something long enough and you might accidentally discover some of the substance that makes the aesthetic work.

SB Nation taught me a better way to love sports. That what is true and good wasn’t in the results — on the field, or off where discourse boiled down to soggy debate — but in the ephemera. It was in baseball players taking pitches right to the beans.

SB Nation was dedicated to silliness and inclusivity. It highlighted the good people that sports elevated on rare occasions. It never fought along the chauvinistic battle lines that can feel like a mandatory part of fandom; in fact, it emphatically ignored them. And yet even after a decade-plus of existence, people still get upset when we suggest sports don’t have to be experienced in rote, tribalistic ways. Typically all you have to do is check the replies.

We never stated this mission very clearly, which has always kinda been a problem. Probably the problem. But if you paid attention, you saw it reiterated in countless ways. (Just click a letter, and note that none of these people work here anymore.) GOD’S AWAY ON BUSINESS was my value set among the many options, however. It told me that what we love most sometimes isn’t scored; that everyone has a responsibility to define and find joy for themselves, even if it may be outside the rules; and that to invest oneself in wonder and silliness also means taking on the duty to defend them.

At SB Nation I learned I didn’t have to identify by sports. I could have a relationship with them, I could be objective towards them, and I could turn them off. I learned that I have a self outside of what I like.

Working here has forced me to look back and figure out what I truly loved about sports. So far I’ve found two things: Charles Woodson, and the way sports helped a shy kid introduce himself. For me, sports’ best utility has been the way they facilitate genuine connection. Which is almost funny, because we know now the extent that sports are artificial by how easily they’ve disappeared.

But to know that sports have had some importance in one’s life is proof they can’t be trivial. They are real in the fact that we choose to empower them. The score has never mattered. Sports live because we give them life.

I don’t always feel good about that fact. Although I’ve come to terms with being mildly stupid, and I’ve gotten better at appreciating things intrinsically, I still often hate that sports are integral to me and that I’ll leave this mortal coil defined by something that never gave me agency.

There’s an image I’ll never shake. My last visit with my grandfather as he lay on the bed he’d die on. He was person I’ve perhaps wanted to emulate most in this world. A French history professor. The funniest, most considerate person I knew. He made everyone feel heard. I said this at his funeral:

He always paused before he laughed, turning over what you said and taking even the bad jokes and finding their point of redemption. Funny enough, this was a sign that he took you seriously, that he thought what you said mattered, even if you were five years old and nothing you had ever said to that point had ever been important. And because he laughed with you, you couldn’t help but laugh along side.

Just a month or two before I saw him among his final days, prostrate, suffering terribly from dementia and barely able to speak. He no longer embodied the self he had curated over 85 years. I talked to him about Michigan football because that had been the thing we talked about the most. He responded only in smiles and hmphs. I didn’t know if he retained anything I said until I started to leave the room. He said the last words I’d ever hear him say: “Go Blue.”

The image that haunts me isn’t my grandfather: Every memory of him makes me love him more, and I’m more grateful than words can say that in our last interaction we felt connected and happy.

Rather it’s my imagination, seeing myself dissolved layer by layer, body and soul disappearing. What would be left in a reduction of my experiences, love, regrets and relationships that I cultivated or destroyed? It might be sports’ afterimage, an outline of Anthony Thomas.

I feel sports’ absence. Maybe I’ve become accustomed to a constant hum of play, or maybe this pandemic has, in a terrible roundabout way, helped us see what is intrinsic.

But I do miss sports, even if that feeling is a byproduct of muscle memory. I miss fun, and sports have been the best outlet I’ve even known to find it. I’ve had a hard time not seeing this period as an attack on fun, that, more and more, the world is becoming something I don’t want to go back to: stodgy and bitter, a self-perpetuating game to see who’s winning at any moment. It feels like there’s no room left to be quiet and gentle.

I don’t know when fun will come back, and it feels fair to ask if it can. There has never been a good answer whether dumb anger is simply the natural state of things, or something we’ve reinforced on one another. There’s only the imprint that anger has left, deep with slippery walls.

The only thing I know is we all want to belong; that at the root of every fight is ostensibly the same impetus — to be full of love and free of worry once again, to feel complete and want for nothing. We just can’t agree on terms.

But I believe there is a healthy definition of belonging. One that does not subsume you, but lets you position yourself amongst the world, and create your own space as opposed to being dictated its rules. A way of editing that doesn’t entrench self, but amplifies it.

The end of the world is demanding, but we have options. And when I close my eyes, I can still see the world I want.

[rkyura-blog]

                       [ ･ﾟ✧  EMOJIPEDIA GUIDE TO KIM AHYOUNG LEILANI , PT. 1 ]

🍰 FAVORITE TYPE OF SWEET / DESSERT  

✧ — ; anything from hawaii, she misses her fave spots endlessly and tirelessly. mention the lilikoi creme brulee from hali-imaile general store in maui and she’ll regale you with stories of how she ditched classes just for a taste of the best creme brulee in the world

🐢 DREAM ANIMAL FOR A PET 

✧ — ; obsessed with the aristocats as a kid, she used to want a cat the most but after watching lady and the trump, siamese cats were ruined for her and so were every other cat in the world. while she loves playing with pets, she doesn’t think she’s suitable for the responsibility of taking one in. she thinks she’s the type that doesn’t go home enough to have a loving pet to come home to but try to convince her of that and she’ll be the one biting. as far as she’s concerned, she’s desperate to have a pet even when everything goes against it. 

🐙 DEEPEST DARKEST FEAR

✧ — ; she’s terrified someone will find out why she left boarding school, why she agreed to move to seoul because most of all she’s terrified that her baby sister will find out. the higher you are, the harder you fall. for years, she’s been setting herself up to come tumbling down.  

🌎 ONE LIFE TO LIVE IN THIS WORLD, WHAT DO YOU DO?

✧ — ; if she had a choice, she’d continue traveling the world. no settling down. just a kick, push and best of all coast on the back of her skateboard, recording her adventures the way she is trying to do now but on a much smaller scale. narrow it down to one location only? there’s no place she’d rather be than hawaii. you can take a girl off the island but you can’t keep her away for long. 

🎂 MAKE A WISH 

✧ — ; her birthday is a cause for celebration and she treats it as a national holiday. if it could be one for any reason, she’d lobby for it. at the mayor’s office, cash me ousside how bow dah? cake’s a must and blowing out every single candle is her specialty. she’s only celebrated one birthday so far in seoul and it wasn’t what she expected. it turned out to be more. ( see pending plot page for more info! ) 

🎓 ARE YOU ONE DEGREE HOTTER THAN THE REST? 

✧ — ; currently working on a undergraduates at kyunghee, she recently changed her major from business to interior design much to her stepmother’s dismay. as for her high school education, she was once enrolled in one of the top boarding schools in england as well as europe but left for personal reasons. 

📬 MAIL TIME, WHOSE LETTER MAKES HER WAG HER TAIL? 

✧ — ; as a child, she wanted to hear most from her father. now, she’d tear a letter from him in half if she ever got one. a strong if and she doesn’t carry any hopes for it. the person she’d like to hear from most is the person that probably wants nothing to do with her but she just wants to know if he’s okay. 

⌚ TICK TOCK, THE CLOCK CHIMES FOR YOU

✧ — ; in the words of ashanti and ja rule, “i’m not always there when you call but i’m always on time.” punctuality is a weakness of hers but she’s a reliable person when it comes to anything else. a shoulder to cry on? she’ll drop everything for you. a lunch date? you’re better off expecting it to end up being dinner. 

💰 ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD CAN’T BUY YOU LOVE

✧ — ; finding money on the streets is luck but to find a large amount / something of that much value, she’d never feel right holding onto it. her grandfather’s history as a cop guides her moral compass when it comes to things like that— it was broken when she was in boarding school but that’s completely different— and she’d either find the owner, turn it into the authorities, or donate it. her charity of preference? women’s shelters. 

👙 EVERYWHERE I GO, THE GIRLS WANNA DRESS LIKE ME

✧ — ; she doesn’t consider herself trendy and she wouldn’t purposely buy trends if she knew. if she is trendy, it’s in the sense that miranda describes in the devil wears prada: 

                                “you go to your closet and you select... i don't know... that lumpy blue                                  sweater, for instance because you're trying to tell the world that you take                                  yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. but what                                  you don't know is that that sweater is not just blue, it's not turquoise. it's                                  not lapis. it's actually cerulean. and you're also blithely unaware of the                                  fact that in 2002, oscar de la renta did a collection of cerulean gowns                                  ( ... ) then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of eight different                                  designers. and then it, uh, filtered down through the department stores                                  and then trickled on down into some tragic casual corner where you, no                                  doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. however, that blue represents                                  millions of dollars and countless jobs and it's sort of comical how you                                  think that you've made a choice that exempts you from the fashion                                  industry when, in fact, you're wearing the sweater that was selected for                                  you by the people in this room from a pile of stuff.” 

that being said she does have a particular style and it just so happens to match up with some of the current trends, like baseball caps, denim jackets, bomber jackets, etc. 

🎠 WHERE SHE STOPS, NOBODY KNOWS

✧ — ; rollercoasters are her jam and the ferris wheel is exhilarating but a bit slow for her taste. that being said, one of her favorite places that she’s visited is the boardwalk in santa cruz because it’s the best of both worlds. amusement park, a place to skate, and the beach but she’s only gone once in her life. even that was enough to make it her favorite. 

🔮 DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC IN A YOUNG GIRL’S HEART? 

✧ — ; if she felt as if she was being deceived, rest assured she would definitely say something. it’s more unlike her to stay quiet but that being said, she does have some belief in psychics if they seem genuine. when it comes to spirits and ghosts, she is more forgiving because of the beliefs of those close to her in hawaii. despite what anyone believes, disrespecting the spirits on the island is unforgivable and she’s first to cause a scene if someone openly does. 

🎃 FAVORITE HOLIDAY

✧ — ; the first week of may, lei day is her absolute favorite because it was her mother’s and her mother’s before that. a family that adores flowers, she’s no different even if she chose a different career path in the end. while she cannot celebrate it in seoul, for her first year, she did wear flowers in her hair anyway and she plans on doing so again come may. 

🎶 THIS SONG IS FOR YOU

✧ — ; her personal music taste varies but she does tend to listen to more chill music, especially when she’s skateboarding but when it comes to dancing, her preference is mostly hip-hop. more classical music / ballad type of songs are her choice on rainy days but it’s not her go-to. 

💒 I KNOW THIS LITTLE CHAPEL ON THE BOULEVARD 

✧ — ; while marriage is something she considers in the far future, she doesn’t look for commitment now. romantic relationships are frivolous and she doesn’t believe she’ll find anyone soon. when she first meets anyone, unless the signs are very obvious, her opinion of a person remains platonic beyond a general assessment of attractiveness. determining if she finds someone attractive is easy, deciding to think of them as anything more usually doesn’t cross her mind. 

♓ YOU AND ME, LET THE STARS ALIGN

✧ — ; she is a scorpio and if she had the choice, she would likely continue to be one. other signs she thinks she could possibly fall under are aries, gemini, and sagittarius. positive traits of a scorpio that she relates to are: passionate, brave, stubborn, and a true friend. negative traits she relates to are: jealous, possessive, controlling, vengeful if wronged, and secretive.

🚼 BABY, MAYBE 

✧ — ; similar to marriage, she does think it’s a possibility in the far future and she’d like to be a mother someday, it’s not on her mind now nor does she think it will be anytime soon. she’s prefer to only have a few kids versus a large family because she’s from a family of only two children and most of her family before her was the same or less. her lack of attachment to anyone on her father’s side contributed to this because she doesn’t see the appeal in large families, or so she claims. the truth is, she’s very envious of a complete family and would only have children if she thought she could provide them with that. 

⚠ CAUTION: HOT 

✧ — ; on many occasions, she’s had to be talked out of doing something risky but the most significant to her is a police officer who became like an uncle to her convincing her not to surf with the possibility of a storm coming in. she didn’t think the warnings were valid with how calm the waters were but the winds came in strong. if she had gone, she would’ve been lost at sea and she doesn’t forget to thank him about it every once in a while despite the teasing. it’s not the first time he’s tried to convince her not to do something but it is the first he insisted upon so strongly that she actually heeded his words, words that saved her life. 

♿ TURN YOUR WEAKNESSES INTO STRENGTHS 

✧ — ; she is not physically or mentally handicapped. however, she could be considered emotionally handicapped because one of the reasons she does not chase relationships, platonic ones included, is because of her father’s abandonment of her mother. after growing up and both seeing and experiencing firsthand what it did to her mother, she refuses to let it happen to herself or her sister. their family has suffered enough. 

💊 TAKE A CHILL PILL

✧ — ; she is not medicated but she does take vitamins every morning and isn’t fond of eating breakfast for that matter. while it’s not the healthiest option, she opts for a type of shake instead of solids and snacks throughout the day. her bag always has some kind of food packed away into the smaller pockets. 

🌞🌜 MORNING BIRD, NIGHT OWL, BIRDS OF THE SAME FEATHER

✧ — ; once fond of early morning surfing, she’s easily a morning bird but like a bird fleeing to the north once winter comes, she becomes more of a night owl in colder temperatures, choosing to stay up or out at night. when she was studying abroad, the nightlife was hers to rule and now that she’s in seoul, she’s tempted to fall back into bad habits. 

📚 THE MOST UNIQUE PORTABLE MAGIC

✧ — ; while she thinks of the world of novels as a beautiful place and she’d love to explore more, she’d much rather be out there living life, searching out adventure in a physical sense. it’s also hard to get her to stay still for long but the efforts have been made before and she’s fond of webtoons because they’re quick and short especially for the frequent bus rides she has to take in order to get around the city. it’s still an adjustment from living in honolulu. 

📓  DEAR DIARY

✧ — ; her deepest secret is one she wouldn’t dare write down but she did once keep a journal, at the advice of her grandfather who recognized too much of himself in his oldest granddaughter. the first secret she wrote is i wish i knew who my father was. now she wishes she never met him. 

[oovitus]

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.

++++

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:

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…

++++

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].

The post I want to be ‘That Guy’. How you can successfully turn body envy into action. appeared first on Precision Nutrition.

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

[robertvasquez763]

Bad Buggies and Ballyhoo: Bashing through the Desert in VW-Powered Off-Roaders

–

If Baja California resembles a dog’s hind leg, then Ensenada would lie near the top rear of its thigh, while La Paz finds itself nestled in a crook at the top of its toes. In 1967, a motley crew of dudes set off down the peninsula in search of glory and bragging rights. There wasn’t much in the way of cash involved; the level of danger was high, the chance of mechanical failure, very high. Twenty-seven hours and 38 minutes after leaving Ensenada, Vic Wilson and Ted Mangels crossed the finish line in La Paz in a Meyers Manx, having covered 950 filthy miles in the little Volkswagen-powered buggy.

–

–

Class 11, the choice of strident retronauts and staunch masochists.

–

Then, as now, a variety of vehicles contested the race, which began as the NORRA Mexican 1000 Rally and morphed along the way into the SCORE Baja 1000. Modern off-road racing vehicles have been divided into classes, and the most rudimentary of them all are the Class 11 cars. Stock-bodied air-cooled VW Beetles running a 1600-cc engine that could’ve been just as easily built in the late Sixties as it could be today, Class 11s are slow, violent, a hoot, and an enduring testament to the fundamental toughness of Ferry Porsche’s basic design. They can, at least, utilize the independent rear suspension introduced by Volkswagen at the end of the 1960s. The Class 9 cars make do with the old-school swing axle.

–

More obvious than the swing axle, however, is the 9’s bodywork. There isn’t a whole lot of it, and it shaves about 1000 pounds compared with the weight of a Class 11 machine. There’s a lid over your head that also happens to serve as the door, some flat pieces attached to the tube frame, and well, that’s about it. A near stock Bug suspension is bolted to the front, and a tight little gearbox sits in front of a 1600 built to the same restrictions as a Class 11. In the car I was to drive, there was a total of eight inches of suspension travel out back—four compression, four rebound—and the ride is even more violent than that of a Class 11. On the upside, the light weight means that it has a tendency to skip along the tops of whoops. And out on the 10-mile course laid out for us by Cody Jeffers of Mojave Off-Road Racing Enthusiasts, if there weren’t rocks, there were whoops. Sometimes there were rocky whoops.

–

–

The apple of our dusty eye: the stalwart, archaic, and brutal Class 9 buggy.

–

Class 9s have another interesting tendency: They’ll basically high-side themselves. Motorcyclists know the high side and fear it. On a bike, it happens when the rear wheel starts to slide out from underneath the rider, gets traction, and then the suspension quickly compresses and unloads, throwing the rider from the motorcycle as if he’s been launched by a trebuchet. Wonderfully, a Class 9 buggy is capable of a similar feat. In sketchy sections under too much power, the car gets a disconcerting side-to-side oscillation going. If it gets wild enough, one side of the suspension quickly loads, then unloads itself. Combine this with the light weight of the thing (somewhere in the neighborhood of 1500 pounds dry), and it’s easy to see how it could potentially end up on its roof.

–

After watching my performance in the Class 11 car, which basically consisted of pushing it as hard as I could and hoping for the best, Cody Jeffers took me aside and kindly and calmly suggested that such tactics wouldn’t work in the 9. As he was doing so, a fellow journalist rolled in, lamenting the yellow little car and finally, in a fit of dusty exasperation, exclaiming, “Just bury me in it.” Another had become disenchanted after stalling it in a wash. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I did, however, reach into the bag on the back of my motorcycle and pull out a pair of Alpinestars SMX-1 summer riding gloves, figuring the thin palms would do a decent job of approximating driving gloves, given the steering kickback the others had complained about.

–

–

The wee shifter is over there on the right.

–

I clambered up on the wheel, onto the fuel cell located between the seat and the engine, and down through the roof. I fiddled with the five-point harness while Cody hooked up my radio and plugged the fresh-air blower system into my helmet. Racing clutch to the floor, I fired up the old flat-four and putzed out of the pits.

–

It felt a little bit like that first live performance with a new band. You’ve practiced, you’ve screwed up, you’ve practiced a bit more, and now you’re on a stage with nothing but wit and skill to guide you. But letting a crowd down is one thing. Hanging upside down from a racing harness while the guy whose buggy you’ve rolled comes to extract you is another.

–

The first stretch of the course saw me bounding down a straight path. The wheel bucked and kicked, but with a little hand pressure to keep it on line, the car tracked true while desert scrub whipped by on either side. A right turn, and I was up into the rocks and whoops. Baseball-sized rocks could be driven over; basketball-sized rocks were to be avoided. My breathing went shallow, and I couldn’t seem to make it any deeper until I aced a section at speed and involuntarily Wooo!ed in delight. After that, the breaths came normally. Apparently, if you need to kick-start your lungs in the desert, impersonating a twentysomething female hepped up on pumpkin spice lattes and Fireball whiskey does the trick.

–

–

The technique for dealing with whoops is as follows: punch the gas up the micro-hillock to lift the front; let off to let the car float down the other side. In practice, the technique has you tapping the throttle almost like a mid-tempo kick drum. I got a little too aggressive, and the car started the side-to-side oscillation Cody had warned me about. I gently backed out of the throttle, let the car calm down, and dug back in. Later, I mentioned to an off-road racer friend that taming the car and getting back into a rhythm made me feel like a hero but that I didn’t know whether that was because I was a newbie. She replied, “No, I totally do.” Knowing that it’s a lasting feeling makes me want more.

–

Our course was marked by black arrows marked on blaze-orange placards, and while I’d been around the track as a passenger and a driver in the Class 11 machine and then suffered through an exhibition lap in a Class 5 Unlimited Bug—a tube-chassis Beetle powered by a hogged-out flat-four capable of more than 80 mph in this terrain—I didn’t have it entirely memorized. I missed a turn, came to a stop in front of a sizable creosote bush, thought that I didn’t want to deal with finding reverse in the tight transmission, then realized, “Hey! I’m in a freakin’ buggy!” and just drove over the poor plant to get back on course.

–

–

When I was 10 years old, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than a Tamiya Fox R/C buggy. So I scrimped and I saved for the better part of a year, bought the car the day after Christmas 1986, spent the rest of my school break building it, and then had to wait eight more months until I had enough money to purchase a radio, battery, and charger. In short, the 1/10-scale buggy was one of the prized possessions of my childhood. Eventually, I put a ’67 GTO body on it, because I am from the Central Valley. At one point, tearing up a hill in the Mojave Desert, I had a thought: “I’m in the Fox! I’m the little plastic dude I painted 31 years ago!”

–

I knew the hill with the jump at the top was coming soon. The smooth face of the serious rise in front of me looked like it. I was about 90 percent sure it was the jump. Perhaps foolishly judging that 90 percent is the better percentage of valor, I committed. Cody’d warned me to get out of the throttle if I left the ground. Hammer down, the small yellow buggy bounded up the hill, crested the rise, and caught sweet, sweet air. Right foot up, stuck the landing, back into the power, and on toward the last bit of the course. Tearing toward the pits, there were a couple of nature-made drainage ditches to be aware of, not easily visible in the desert sun. In the interest of avoiding calamity, I dialed back the pace.

–

Into the pits, engine off. I’d been so occupied out on the course I hadn’t realized just how stupendous the whole experience had been. It was akin to the night Bob Mould invited me onstage to sing “Makes No Sense at All” because he’d blown his voice out. After the song ended, I stepped off the stage and just stood there with my hand over my mouth. A guy smiled and said to his date, “He just realized what he just did.”

–

–

–

Baja Blitzkrieg: Taking the Reins of a BMW X6 Trophy Truck in Mexico

–

The Burrito Cannonball

–

Volkswagen: News, Reviews, Photos, and More

–

–

–

Power- and weight-wise, a Class 9 car isn’t that far off a loaded up Harley-Davidson tourer, yet the experience is like riding a four-wheeled dirt bike. Throttle-induced weight transfer rules the day, steering inputs alone are largely suggestions, getting a buggy around the course requires merging with both the machinery and the landscape. Eyes down the course, foot in the gas, make the thing skitter and dance across the terrain instead of plowing through it. I was geeked; I hadn’t been so utterly thrilled in a vehicle in a very long time. It beat lapping Daytona in a Ferrari 488, or ripping around New Jersey Motorsports Park on a Yamaha YZF-R6. Cody unfastened the roof hatch, and I clambered out gracelessly, fairly well pummeled after 40 miles around the course during the afternoon. Jeffers allowed that most of the people who drive Class 11s are in their teens and early twenties. I’m 41. I asked anyway. “Cody, how much does one of these things cost?”

–

“About six grand.”

–

“Don’t tell me that. I can afford that!”

–

The 2017 Baja 1000 starts in Ensenada on November 14. I won’t be there, but, man, am I ever dreaming dreams of Class 9 glory.

–

–

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via WordPress https://robertvasquez123.wordpress.com/2017/10/10/bad-buggies-and-ballyhoo-bashing-through-the-desert-in-vw-powered-off-roaders-2/

[jesusvasser]

Bad Buggies and Ballyhoo: Bashing through the Desert in VW-Powered Off-Roaders

-

If Baja California resembles a dog’s hind leg, then Ensenada would lie near the top rear of its thigh, while La Paz finds itself nestled in a crook at the top of its toes. In 1967, a motley crew of dudes set off down the peninsula in search of glory and bragging rights. There wasn’t much in the way of cash involved; the level of danger was high, the chance of mechanical failure, very high. Twenty-seven hours and 38 minutes after leaving Ensenada, Vic Wilson and Ted Mangels crossed the finish line in La Paz in a Meyers Manx, having covered 950 filthy miles in the little Volkswagen-powered buggy.

-

-

Class 11, the choice of strident retronauts and staunch masochists.

-

Then, as now, a variety of vehicles contested the race, which began as the NORRA Mexican 1000 Rally and morphed along the way into the SCORE Baja 1000. Modern off-road racing vehicles have been divided into classes, and the most rudimentary of them all are the Class 11 cars. Stock-bodied air-cooled VW Beetles running a 1600-cc engine that could’ve been just as easily built in the late Sixties as it could be today, Class 11s are slow, violent, a hoot, and an enduring testament to the fundamental toughness of Ferry Porsche’s basic design. They can, at least, utilize the independent rear suspension introduced by Volkswagen at the end of the 1960s. The Class 9 cars make do with the old-school swing axle.

-

More obvious than the swing axle, however, is the 9’s bodywork. There isn’t a whole lot of it, and it shaves about 1000 pounds compared with the weight of a Class 11 machine. There’s a lid over your head that also happens to serve as the door, some flat pieces attached to the tube frame, and well, that’s about it. A near stock Bug suspension is bolted to the front, and a tight little gearbox sits in front of a 1600 built to the same restrictions as a Class 11. In the car I was to drive, there was a total of eight inches of suspension travel out back—four compression, four rebound—and the ride is even more violent than that of a Class 11. On the upside, the light weight means that it has a tendency to skip along the tops of whoops. And out on the 10-mile course laid out for us by Cody Jeffers of Mojave Off-Road Racing Enthusiasts, if there weren’t rocks, there were whoops. Sometimes there were rocky whoops.

-

-

The apple of our dusty eye: the stalwart, archaic, and brutal Class 9 buggy.

-

Class 9s have another interesting tendency: They’ll basically high-side themselves. Motorcyclists know the high side and fear it. On a bike, it happens when the rear wheel starts to slide out from underneath the rider, gets traction, and then the suspension quickly compresses and unloads, throwing the rider from the motorcycle as if he’s been launched by a trebuchet. Wonderfully, a Class 9 buggy is capable of a similar feat. In sketchy sections under too much power, the car gets a disconcerting side-to-side oscillation going. If it gets wild enough, one side of the suspension quickly loads, then unloads itself. Combine this with the light weight of the thing (somewhere in the neighborhood of 1500 pounds dry), and it’s easy to see how it could potentially end up on its roof.

-

After watching my performance in the Class 11 car, which basically consisted of pushing it as hard as I could and hoping for the best, Cody Jeffers took me aside and kindly and calmly suggested that such tactics wouldn’t work in the 9. As he was doing so, a fellow journalist rolled in, lamenting the yellow little car and finally, in a fit of dusty exasperation, exclaiming, “Just bury me in it.” Another had become disenchanted after stalling it in a wash. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I did, however, reach into the bag on the back of my motorcycle and pull out a pair of Alpinestars SMX-1 summer riding gloves, figuring the thin palms would do a decent job of approximating driving gloves, given the steering kickback the others had complained about.

-

-

The wee shifter is over there on the right.

-

I clambered up on the wheel, onto the fuel cell located between the seat and the engine, and down through the roof. I fiddled with the five-point harness while Cody hooked up my radio and plugged the fresh-air blower system into my helmet. Racing clutch to the floor, I fired up the old flat-four and putzed out of the pits.

-

It felt a little bit like that first live performance with a new band. You’ve practiced, you’ve screwed up, you’ve practiced a bit more, and now you’re on a stage with nothing but wit and skill to guide you. But letting a crowd down is one thing. Hanging upside down from a racing harness while the guy whose buggy you’ve rolled comes to extract you is another.

-

The first stretch of the course saw me bounding down a straight path. The wheel bucked and kicked, but with a little hand pressure to keep it on line, the car tracked true while desert scrub whipped by on either side. A right turn, and I was up into the rocks and whoops. Baseball-sized rocks could be driven over; basketball-sized rocks were to be avoided. My breathing went shallow, and I couldn’t seem to make it any deeper until I aced a section at speed and involuntarily Wooo!ed in delight. After that, the breaths came normally. Apparently, if you need to kick-start your lungs in the desert, impersonating a twentysomething female hepped up on pumpkin spice lattes and Fireball whiskey does the trick.

-

-

The technique for dealing with whoops is as follows: punch the gas up the micro-hillock to lift the front; let off to let the car float down the other side. In practice, the technique has you tapping the throttle almost like a mid-tempo kick drum. I got a little too aggressive, and the car started the side-to-side oscillation Cody had warned me about. I gently backed out of the throttle, let the car calm down, and dug back in. Later, I mentioned to an off-road racer friend that taming the car and getting back into a rhythm made me feel like a hero but that I didn’t know whether that was because I was a newbie. She replied, “No, I totally do.” Knowing that it’s a lasting feeling makes me want more.

-

Our course was marked by black arrows marked on blaze-orange placards, and while I’d been around the track as a passenger and a driver in the Class 11 machine and then suffered through an exhibition lap in a Class 5 Unlimited Bug—a tube-chassis Beetle powered by a hogged-out flat-four capable of more than 80 mph in this terrain—I didn’t have it entirely memorized. I missed a turn, came to a stop in front of a sizable creosote bush, thought that I didn’t want to deal with finding reverse in the tight transmission, then realized, “Hey! I’m in a freakin’ buggy!” and just drove over the poor plant to get back on course.

-

-

When I was 10 years old, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than a Tamiya Fox R/C buggy. So I scrimped and I saved for the better part of a year, bought the car the day after Christmas 1986, spent the rest of my school break building it, and then had to wait eight more months until I had enough money to purchase a radio, battery, and charger. In short, the 1/10-scale buggy was one of the prized possessions of my childhood. Eventually, I put a ’67 GTO body on it, because I am from the Central Valley. At one point, tearing up a hill in the Mojave Desert, I had a thought: “I’m in the Fox! I’m the little plastic dude I painted 31 years ago!”

-

I knew the hill with the jump at the top was coming soon. The smooth face of the serious rise in front of me looked like it. I was about 90 percent sure it was the jump. Perhaps foolishly judging that 90 percent is the better percentage of valor, I committed. Cody’d warned me to get out of the throttle if I left the ground. Hammer down, the small yellow buggy bounded up the hill, crested the rise, and caught sweet, sweet air. Right foot up, stuck the landing, back into the power, and on toward the last bit of the course. Tearing toward the pits, there were a couple of nature-made drainage ditches to be aware of, not easily visible in the desert sun. In the interest of avoiding calamity, I dialed back the pace.

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Into the pits, engine off. I’d been so occupied out on the course I hadn’t realized just how stupendous the whole experience had been. It was akin to the night Bob Mould invited me onstage to sing “Makes No Sense at All” because he’d blown his voice out. After the song ended, I stepped off the stage and just stood there with my hand over my mouth. A guy smiled and said to his date, “He just realized what he just did.”

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Baja Blitzkrieg: Taking the Reins of a BMW X6 Trophy Truck in Mexico

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The Burrito Cannonball

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Volkswagen: News, Reviews, Photos, and More

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Power- and weight-wise, a Class 9 car isn’t that far off a loaded up Harley-Davidson tourer, yet the experience is like riding a four-wheeled dirt bike. Throttle-induced weight transfer rules the day, steering inputs alone are largely suggestions, getting a buggy around the course requires merging with both the machinery and the landscape. Eyes down the course, foot in the gas, make the thing skitter and dance across the terrain instead of plowing through it. I was geeked; I hadn’t been so utterly thrilled in a vehicle in a very long time. It beat lapping Daytona in a Ferrari 488, or ripping around New Jersey Motorsports Park on a Yamaha YZF-R6. Cody unfastened the roof hatch, and I clambered out gracelessly, fairly well pummeled after 40 miles around the course during the afternoon. Jeffers allowed that most of the people who drive Class 11s are in their teens and early twenties. I’m 41. I asked anyway. “Cody, how much does one of these things cost?”

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“About six grand.”

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“Don’t tell me that. I can afford that!”

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The 2017 Baja 1000 starts in Ensenada on November 14. I won’t be there, but, man, am I ever dreaming dreams of Class 9 glory.

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- from Performance Junk WP Feed 4 http://ift.tt/2g5lgq3 via IFTTT

[eddiejpoplar]

Bad Buggies and Ballyhoo: Bashing through the Desert in VW-Powered Off-Roaders

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If Baja California resembles a dog’s hind leg, then Ensenada would lie near the top rear of its thigh, while La Paz finds itself nestled in a crook at the top of its toes. In 1967, a motley crew of dudes set off down the peninsula in search of glory and bragging rights. There wasn’t much in the way of cash involved; the level of danger was high, the chance of mechanical failure, very high. Twenty-seven hours and 38 minutes after leaving Ensenada, Vic Wilson and Ted Mangels crossed the finish line in La Paz in a Meyers Manx, having covered 950 filthy miles in the little Volkswagen-powered buggy.

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Class 11, the choice of strident retronauts and staunch masochists.

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Then, as now, a variety of vehicles contested the race, which began as the NORRA Mexican 1000 Rally and morphed along the way into the SCORE Baja 1000. Modern off-road racing vehicles have been divided into classes, and the most rudimentary of them all are the Class 11 cars. Stock-bodied air-cooled VW Beetles running a 1600-cc engine that could’ve been just as easily built in the late Sixties as it could be today, Class 11s are slow, violent, a hoot, and an enduring testament to the fundamental toughness of Ferry Porsche’s basic design. They can, at least, utilize the independent rear suspension introduced by Volkswagen at the end of the 1960s. The Class 9 cars make do with the old-school swing axle.

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More obvious than the swing axle, however, is the 9’s bodywork. There isn’t a whole lot of it, and it shaves about 1000 pounds compared with the weight of a Class 11 machine. There’s a lid over your head that also happens to serve as the door, some flat pieces attached to the tube frame, and well, that’s about it. A near stock Bug suspension is bolted to the front, and a tight little gearbox sits in front of a 1600 built to the same restrictions as a Class 11. In the car I was to drive, there was a total of eight inches of suspension travel out back—four compression, four rebound—and the ride is even more violent than that of a Class 11. On the upside, the light weight means that it has a tendency to skip along the tops of whoops. And out on the 10-mile course laid out for us by Cody Jeffers of Mojave Off-Road Racing Enthusiasts, if there weren’t rocks, there were whoops. Sometimes there were rocky whoops.

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The apple of our dusty eye: the stalwart, archaic, and brutal Class 9 buggy.

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Class 9s have another interesting tendency: They’ll basically high-side themselves. Motorcyclists know the high side and fear it. On a bike, it happens when the rear wheel starts to slide out from underneath the rider, gets traction, and then the suspension quickly compresses and unloads, throwing the rider from the motorcycle as if he’s been launched by a trebuchet. Wonderfully, a Class 9 buggy is capable of a similar feat. In sketchy sections under too much power, the car gets a disconcerting side-to-side oscillation going. If it gets wild enough, one side of the suspension quickly loads, then unloads itself. Combine this with the light weight of the thing (somewhere in the neighborhood of 1500 pounds dry), and it’s easy to see how it could potentially end up on its roof.

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After watching my performance in the Class 11 car, which basically consisted of pushing it as hard as I could and hoping for the best, Cody Jeffers took me aside and kindly and calmly suggested that such tactics wouldn’t work in the 9. As he was doing so, a fellow journalist rolled in, lamenting the yellow little car and finally, in a fit of dusty exasperation, exclaiming, “Just bury me in it.” Another had become disenchanted after stalling it in a wash. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I did, however, reach into the bag on the back of my motorcycle and pull out a pair of Alpinestars SMX-1 summer riding gloves, figuring the thin palms would do a decent job of approximating driving gloves, given the steering kickback the others had complained about.

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The wee shifter is over there on the right.

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I clambered up on the wheel, onto the fuel cell located between the seat and the engine, and down through the roof. I fiddled with the five-point harness while Cody hooked up my radio and plugged the fresh-air blower system into my helmet. Racing clutch to the floor, I fired up the old flat-four and putzed out of the pits.

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It felt a little bit like that first live performance with a new band. You’ve practiced, you’ve screwed up, you’ve practiced a bit more, and now you’re on a stage with nothing but wit and skill to guide you. But letting a crowd down is one thing. Hanging upside down from a racing harness while the guy whose buggy you’ve rolled comes to extract you is another.

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The first stretch of the course saw me bounding down a straight path. The wheel bucked and kicked, but with a little hand pressure to keep it on line, the car tracked true while desert scrub whipped by on either side. A right turn, and I was up into the rocks and whoops. Baseball-sized rocks could be driven over; basketball-sized rocks were to be avoided. My breathing went shallow, and I couldn’t seem to make it any deeper until I aced a section at speed and involuntarily Wooo!ed in delight. After that, the breaths came normally. Apparently, if you need to kick-start your lungs in the desert, impersonating a twentysomething female hepped up on pumpkin spice lattes and Fireball whiskey does the trick.

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The technique for dealing with whoops is as follows: punch the gas up the micro-hillock to lift the front; let off to let the car float down the other side. In practice, the technique has you tapping the throttle almost like a mid-tempo kick drum. I got a little too aggressive, and the car started the side-to-side oscillation Cody had warned me about. I gently backed out of the throttle, let the car calm down, and dug back in. Later, I mentioned to an off-road racer friend that taming the car and getting back into a rhythm made me feel like a hero but that I didn’t know whether that was because I was a newbie. She replied, “No, I totally do.” Knowing that it’s a lasting feeling makes me want more.

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Our course was marked by black arrows marked on blaze-orange placards, and while I’d been around the track as a passenger and a driver in the Class 11 machine and then suffered through an exhibition lap in a Class 5 Unlimited Bug—a tube-chassis Beetle powered by a hogged-out flat-four capable of more than 80 mph in this terrain—I didn’t have it entirely memorized. I missed a turn, came to a stop in front of a sizable creosote bush, thought that I didn’t want to deal with finding reverse in the tight transmission, then realized, “Hey! I’m in a freakin’ buggy!” and just drove over the poor plant to get back on course.

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When I was 10 years old, there was nothing in the world I wanted more than a Tamiya Fox R/C buggy. So I scrimped and I saved for the better part of a year, bought the car the day after Christmas 1986, spent the rest of my school break building it, and then had to wait eight more months until I had enough money to purchase a radio, battery, and charger. In short, the 1/10-scale buggy was one of the prized possessions of my childhood. Eventually, I put a ’67 GTO body on it, because I am from the Central Valley. At one point, tearing up a hill in the Mojave Desert, I had a thought: “I’m in the Fox! I’m the little plastic dude I painted 31 years ago!”

-

I knew the hill with the jump at the top was coming soon. The smooth face of the serious rise in front of me looked like it. I was about 90 percent sure it was the jump. Perhaps foolishly judging that 90 percent is the better percentage of valor, I committed. Cody’d warned me to get out of the throttle if I left the ground. Hammer down, the small yellow buggy bounded up the hill, crested the rise, and caught sweet, sweet air. Right foot up, stuck the landing, back into the power, and on toward the last bit of the course. Tearing toward the pits, there were a couple of nature-made drainage ditches to be aware of, not easily visible in the desert sun. In the interest of avoiding calamity, I dialed back the pace.

-

Into the pits, engine off. I’d been so occupied out on the course I hadn’t realized just how stupendous the whole experience had been. It was akin to the night Bob Mould invited me onstage to sing “Makes No Sense at All” because he’d blown his voice out. After the song ended, I stepped off the stage and just stood there with my hand over my mouth. A guy smiled and said to his date, “He just realized what he just did.”

-

-

-

Baja Blitzkrieg: Taking the Reins of a BMW X6 Trophy Truck in Mexico

-

The Burrito Cannonball

-

Volkswagen: News, Reviews, Photos, and More

-

-

-

Power- and weight-wise, a Class 9 car isn’t that far off a loaded up Harley-Davidson tourer, yet the experience is like riding a four-wheeled dirt bike. Throttle-induced weight transfer rules the day, steering inputs alone are largely suggestions, getting a buggy around the course requires merging with both the machinery and the landscape. Eyes down the course, foot in the gas, make the thing skitter and dance across the terrain instead of plowing through it. I was geeked; I hadn’t been so utterly thrilled in a vehicle in a very long time. It beat lapping Daytona in a Ferrari 488, or ripping around New Jersey Motorsports Park on a Yamaha YZF-R6. Cody unfastened the roof hatch, and I clambered out gracelessly, fairly well pummeled after 40 miles around the course during the afternoon. Jeffers allowed that most of the people who drive Class 11s are in their teens and early twenties. I’m 41. I asked anyway. “Cody, how much does one of these things cost?”

-

“About six grand.”

-

“Don’t tell me that. I can afford that!”

-

The 2017 Baja 1000 starts in Ensenada on November 14. I won’t be there, but, man, am I ever dreaming dreams of Class 9 glory.

-

- from Performance Junk Blogger 6 http://ift.tt/2g5lgq3 via IFTTT

[rickhorrow]

Stadiums Are Big Business: new Book Looks At How And Why…And Then Some…

by Tanner SImkins @TannerSimkins

The stadium business has never been bigger, and the debate over who should pay for such things has never been hotter.  With the NGL now in Las Vegas, the Chargers moving to L.A., the Raiders in flux, the Falcons getting a new home, new York trying to figure out what to do with NYCFC and the Islanders the debate has raged on from sea to sea.  This week author Rafi Kohan has a new book out which talks about all these issues as well as the quirks and fin of fandom and so much more. The book is called “The Arena, Inside the Tailgating, Ticket-Scalping, Mascot-Racing, Dubiously Funded, and Possibly Haunted Monuments of American Sport  ” and we caught up with Rafi to talk the stadium game, and some of the other many lessons learned along his journey.  https://www.amazon.com/Arena-tailgating-ticket-scalping-mascot-racing-dubiously-ebook/dp/B01M6XDXK7

With all the stadia you visited, what was the biggest surprise?

One thing I found fascinating was the way in which ticket scalpers in Cleveland were able to create one-time marketplaces surrounding Cavaliers playoff games, seemingly independent of any other factors. I’ll explain what I mean: For game one of the 2015 playoffs—the first postseason game since LeBron James returned to the city, with the promise of a championship—there was decent activity on the online secondary market and a ton of people milling around the arena. The team was even throwing an official pregame party. And yet, the scalpers couldn’t move very many tickets at all. It was brutal. Some started lowering their demands, while others decided to price enforce. Eventually, they were able to move a few tickets, but nothing close to what they had been anticipating.

Game two was a couple days later. There was no pregame party and secondary market activity was shaky, at best. Naturally, the scalpers feared the action would be even worse. But they were wrong. Game two proved to be a bonanza for the sellers on the street, as they unloaded tickets well above what they were moving for online. There are some guys who like to monitor the online market and try to swoop in and vulture cheap tickets from scalpers, and these guys watched in disbelief as upper-level seats sold for hundreds of dollars. Some scalpers ran out of inventory well before tip-off. Why was one game better than the other? These are the mysteries of the street. As one scalper who works around Fenway Park in Boston put it to me, as to why a ticket is worth one thing and not another: “Ice cream has no bones. So what?”

Atlanta is now about to get a new football stadium, how has that changed the public vs private money situation for these new urban centers?

I don’t think it has changed the situation at all, as far as public vs. private funding goes for football stadiums. The Falcons are receiving hundreds of millions of dollars of public money, thanks to a hotel-motel tax, and that’s pretty par for the course (with rare exception in the largest media markets). Some cities and teams are trying to get more creative in terms of how they funnel that money to team owners—in this case, because the money is coming from a hotel-motel tax, the argument can be made that it is tourists who are helping to pay for the stadium (but that of course neglects any sort of counterfactual situation, in which the city uses those tax dollars for other purposes). At the end of the day, a subsidy is a subsidy.

What’s interesting about the new Atlanta football stadium, in my opinion, is the extent to which the Falcons team owner Arthur Blank will make genuine investments in the surrounding community. More so than perhaps any other owner, Blank has been making noise about true community development—job training, lowering crime, youth leadership programs, and so on—and has reportedly provided dollars to back it up. We’ll see what happens, but one of my takeaways from spending so much time in and around stadiums in general is that sports teams ought to be better citizens and better neighbors, instead of cynical stadium tenants—especially given how much public money sports owners accept (which is to say nothing of the benefits of tax-free borrowing)—and this is a good place to start.

You talk about everything from urinals to scalping in the book, who are two of your favorite stories?

Since you brought up urinals, one of my favorite stories has to do with the urinal troughs at Wrigley Field. Apparently, male fans view peeing in the troughs as one of the rituals of Wrigley Field, and a kind of rite of passage. My dad took me to pee in a trough, and by God, I’m going to take my son to pee in a trough! And so when Wrigley began its recent renovations, this was one of the areas on which fans were not willing to compromise. They wanted to keep the troughs. In fact, at one game, my seatmate discovered that I had never peed in a trough and he demanded that I accompany him to the restroom immediately. It was a one-of-a-kind bonding experience.

Another favorite story, which is really more of an interaction, came at Fenway Park. I was sitting in the field-side box of former Red Sox president Larry Lucchino the day after a female fan was badly injured when a shattered bat helicoptered into the stands. I believe she was still in the hospital. Before the game, I started chatting with one of the security guards standing on the field. Because fan injuries were a growing concern in baseball, I asked him if he had ever seen anything like that injury before. He responded,  “Yeah, in my other job.” And what was his other job, I wondered? “I work in the ER,” he said.

Los Angeles just got the Olympics, and with it come new stadia already in the mix. Any thoughts on how LA has re-invented itself as a hub of big sports events?

L.A. is one of the few cities that has ever done the Olympics right, at least in terms of not allowing the games to financially ruin the city. (Which is why so many other cities are hesitant to even bid on the games now.) And with L.A.’s existing sports infrastructure and the new venues coming online, it is possible that the city will not have to build any new permanent facilities, which is great in terms of avoiding white elephants. I spent a good amount of time in Salt Lake City, which has probably done the best job, as far as post-Olympics legacy goes. And the lesson there is that legacy planning can’t begin after the games leave, but has to start well before they ever arrive. Beyond initial and even long-term subsidization costs, when necessary, you need to have a plan for every facility. For example, will a venue revert back to what it was before, as was the case in Salt Lake with Rice-Eccles Stadium, home of the University of Utah football program and host of the opening and closing ceremonies? Will it transform into something new, like Maverik Center, which hosted hockey events and is now a multipurpose sports and entertainment venue? Will the public be able to use it and benefit from it, as they are Utah Olympic Park? I hope L.A. is taking all these things into consideration. They certainly have enough time to plan for it.

One potential downside to L.A. as a sports hub, however, is this question: At what point do we reach oversaturation for stadiums? After all, touring bands and other road shows can only play so many venues in the same city. And if the venues start underbidding one another because they become desperate to fill dates—not saying that’s the case; this is a hypothetical—then we’ve reached a lose-lose situation for all the stadium operators.

You also look at lots of colleges.  From a business and event perspective, what are some towns that have done it right with regard to college facilities?

You know, college football stadiums were actually some of the first permanent steel-and-concrete stadiums in the U.S., with Harvard Stadium being the first in 1903. (The stadium was a gift from alumni.) From the beginning, they held a unique place in the American stadiumscape, almost serving as marketing billboards to the country at large for those individual institutions. They represented something. They were stakes in the ground, and they said: this is a place worth attending.

I spent most of my time at Michigan Stadium in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and Beaver Stadium, in State College, Pennsylvania. Both are interesting for many different reasons, and one common reason: identity. To this day, these venues stand as metaphors for those universities and their wider communities. They say: this is who we are, and this is what we stand for. (For obvious reasons, some folks in Penn State have been suffering a bit of a crisis of identity in recent years.)

Anyway, that’s a long way of saying that I think the question we should be asking about college towns is this: Which of these places are able to respect that initial purpose of standing for something, without trampling academic ideals or compromising core values? It’s increasingly difficult to argue anyone is really getting this exactly right, especially with big money running rampant through college football.

If there was a city looking for a boom in development and innovation with regard to fans and the places their teams play, who should we be looking to?

First off, cities should understand that stadiums are not good economic drivers, for a region as a whole. There is broad economic consensus on this point. So any fantasies of building a stadium and having development naturally bloom around it—forget that. Stadiums are not good financial investments. That being said, this question reminds me of something Roger Noll, who is a preeminent stadium economist, said to me, and that is: stadiums can be useful political instruments when included in larger development plans, especially in cities that could use a boost. As he put it, “Having the government commit successfully to a 20-year redevelopment project is a considerable political accomplishment, and including sports will get you 20 to 25 percent of the electorate. It adds to the coalition.”

In other words, stadiums can help a city with targeted redevelopment, if there is a specific area of the city that they are trying to revitalize, for example. This ended up being what Cleveland did with the Gateway District, when they built new homes for both the Cavs and the Indians in the mid-1990s, and part of what made that successful was that the facilities were imagined as participating in a 365-day-a-year district, with interaction with the wider district—the bars and restaurants and what have you. The stadiums were not walled off or encircled by parking lots but corkscrewed into the district. Of course there is more to Cleveland’s downtown revitalization than just sports facilities, but they played a part.

[flauntpage]

The Mariners Are Screwed

In the tenth inning of Friday's game against the Texas Rangers, a Seattle Mariner outfielder singled up the middle. He took a wide turn and saw the Rangers center fielder bobble the baseball. He decided to go for second base, where he was thrown out. The Mariners lost 3-1.

Guillermo Heredia couldn't have known it, but his poor decision perfectly encapsulated the Mariners' 2017 season, and just might be a perfect allegory for the future of the club, too. A promising beginning. A not so promising ending.

Short story long, the Mariners might be in a lot of trouble.

Read More: That Time a Replacement Ump Let the Expos Bat Out of Order

The Mariners sit at 15-17, far from the worst record in baseball. They've also been downright good at home, sporting a 10-5 record in Seattle, and if they're able to get through May in contention, they spend almost the entire month of June in the friendly confines of Safeco Field. How bad can things be?

If you ask some of the talent evaluators in baseball, pretty bad. The Mariners came into 2017 with a good shot at contending for the postseason. Then they started 2-8. Then the injuries started mounting up. The Mariners' short-term prospects look about as good as Heredia's did rounding first base on Friday. Their long-term prospects look even worse.

"This is not a very good roster," one National League executive said. "I mean, there's some really good players, some borderline great players, but if you look at the overall package of the 25-man roster, it just isn't where it should be if you're expecting to contender for the playoffs. And that's how I felt before they piled on the injuries."

Jerry Dipoto inherited a mess. Photo by Mark J. Rebilas-USA TODAY Sports

And the injuries, they have been relentless. Just take a look at the players who are currently on the disabled list. Felix Hernandez, James Paxton, Mitch Haniger, Drew Smyly, and Steve Cishek all are expected to miss at least the rest of the month. The best starting pitcher on the Mariners is currently Hisashi Iwakuma, who has struggled to miss bats in 2017 and isn't exactly a beacon of health himself. The second best starter is Yovani Gallardo, who is Yovani Gallardo.

With all of those injuries, you'd think the Mariners would be in prime position to make a trade and shore up the roster; general manager Jerry Dipoto loves to trade. There are two problems with that, however. The first is that it's too early in the season for most teams to give up and consider themselves sellers. The second problem is that the Mariners don't really have much talent to give up in return.

"It's among the worst farm systems in baseball," an American League Central executive said. "There is so little here in terms of impact talent. They have a couple of starters who profile as backend guys and some intriguing outfielders, but the overall talent is really lacking. If we were to try and trade a starter to them, I really don't even know what I'd ask for."

That might seem hyperbolic, but it's the industry consensus. The best prospect in the system is either Kyle Lewis, an outfielder who is recovering from a gruesome leg injury and likely won't be ready to play until after the All-Star break, or Tyler O'Neill, another outfielder who put up big numbers in 2016 but has struggled mightily in 2017 to the tune of a .579 OPS for Triple-A Tacoma. The best pitching prospects are Nick Neidert and Andrew Moore, neither of whom projects to be much more than fourth or fifth starters at the highest level. These are nice guys to have in a system—everyone needs backend starters and outfield prospects—but they're not going to fetch you the help you need if you really expect to compete for a playoff spot.

And therein lies another issue. The Mariners not only not great; they're also kinda old. Of the key players in the current fold, the only one younger than 25 is Edwin Diaz, who is the closer. Hernandez is now 31—an old 31—and has suffered injuries in back-to-back seasons. Nelson Cruz turns 37 in July, and while he's still a very effective hitter, he's now a full-time designated hitter. Robinson Canó is awesome, but he's also 34, and signed on for another six years at $24 million a season. At some point, that contract is going to become an albatross. This makes Mariners unlikely to be sellers this summer, because what are you selling? Cruz could bring in a pretty penny from an AL team, but his DH-ness limits the market. They're not going to move players like Canó, Kyle Seager, or Paxton, which means relievers like Cishek (if he's healthy) or Marc Rzepczynski are their best trade chips. Best of luck in restocking the farm system with them.

Essentially, it leaves Diaz, Paxton, Jean Segura, Seager, and Haniger as the building blocks of this team. They are all good players, but is it good enough to compete with teams like the Houston Astros, the Cleveland Indians, and the New York Yankees, which all appear to have better short- and long-term plans? It's hard to talk yourself into optimism.

Mitch Haniger was a revelation for the Mariners before suffering an oblique injury. Photo by Rick Osentoski-USA TODAY Sports

"One thing I think you have to keep in mind is that Dipoto inherited a mess," the AL Central executive said. "All due respect to Jack Zduriencik, who I think was a pretty good scout, but the cupboard was really empty when he took over, way emptier than it is now, which is saying something. He's certainly trying to get something done, I just don't think it's working just yet."

The failure of the Zduriencik era can't be overstated. Despite a couple of winning seasons, his regime will be best remembered for countless failed draft picks, poor player development, and trades that too often ended up in the favor of his counterparts. Ask any evaluator about the way Seattle handled the promotion of Mike Zunino, and you are sure to get a cringe or a guffaw, maybe both. Not to mention Dustin Ackley, Justin Smoak, and Jesus Montero. These are certainly not failures you can place at the feet of Dipoto, who was brought on at the end of the 2015 season.

Talking to other executives and scouts, it's clear that they have tremendous respect for Dipoto's work ethic and willingness to try and make the roster better. Just take a look at the amount of transactions he's made in his time with Seattle. He hasn't had the luxury of conducting a full on Cubs/Astros–style teardown and tank job. Instead, he's been forced to make do and build around Hernandez, Canó, and company.

Dipoto has been clear about his desire to improve the team's speed and athleticism, and he's acquired players like Heredia, Haniger, and Jarrod Dyson to do just that. But while there's clear respect and admiration for his work ethic and his commitment to a vision, the quality of those moves leaves many in the industry scratching their heads.

"You just can't help but question the value of some of the moves he's made," the NL executive said. "Some of the moves you look back on and it's bad luck, like (former Mariner catcher Steve) Clevenger for (Orioles outfielder Mark) Trumbo. That looks awful now, but they weren't going to keep him. But some of the other moves, like giving up decent prospects for Joaquin Benoit, or even the most recent one where they gave up Luiz Gohara for Mallex Smith"—the Mariners ended up dealing Smith about 15 minutes later for Smyly—"those trades just make you wonder if they value things differently there. And not the good kind of different."

Dipoto inherited a team built to compete now but not quite good enough to actually do so. A month into their second season under his management, the Mariners look a little bit better than when he took over, but that probably still isn't good enough to make the playoffs this year, or become a perennial contender.

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The Mariners Are Screwed published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[oovitus]

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:

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…

++++

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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I want to be ‘That Guy’. How you can successfully turn body envy into action. published first on https://storeseapharmacy.tumblr.com

[oovitus]

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.

++++

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:

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…

++++

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 Channing Tatum 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 Channing Tatum, 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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