"I had to stop every 800m for 2 minutes in order to just do this."

A client sent me that in July, along with a screenshot of his run. A few hours later: "No movement on weight or measurements."

He was two weeks in. A swimmer as a kid. He came to me because he wanted to feel great in his own body and he felt like he was losing it. Heart disease in his family probably pushed him over the edge. Here he is, out of breath at 800 meters with a scale that won't move.

That's where most guys quit and then look for another miracle plan.

Three months later, he sent me this.

About 60 down to about 54.

Now look at when it starts to drop. July. The same week he told me the numbers weren't moving.

You've met him before, by the way.

But I didn't tell you everything...

Phase one: the Reset

For the first month I kept everything small. Short workouts, simple food, and 20 minutes of easy cardio on the days he wasn't training - if he felt like it. No distance and no pace, because the last thing this guy needed was another number to fail at.

His first run, he jogged next to his kid on a scooter. "It took over an hour to run 22 minutes because we stopped at 3 parks to play."

The week of that 800-meter run, he told me, "I appreciate it Coach but I don't feel it."

I didn't expect him to. The doing comes first and the feeling shows up later, which is why I keep this month so small that he can't talk himself out of it.

Phase two: the Build

By August the basics were running without him thinking about them, so it was time to test them against his travel. A trip used to mean a few pounds up, two weeks off the gym, and starting over.

Late in the month, on the road: "3km today. I figured I'd help burn some of the extra calories. Plus i just feel better when i sweat on travel days."

Two reasons in one message, and the second is the one I'd been waiting for. A man who runs to burn off what he ate stops as soon as he's busy. A man who runs because he feels better doesn't need accountability anymore.

In September he finally took the blood test he'd been dodging, and sent me this at 11 at night.

Best numbers in two and a half years. You'd think that's what he'd keep talking about.

Six days later: "I can do 7 chin-ups btw. I test once a week. My own personal metric."

Last week it was 11.

His blood work and his resting heart rate are the evidence he's on the best path to prevent what runs in his family. So he's not just driven by fear anymore. He can start exploring things about himself.

The work we're doing is not about preventing a heart attack. It's about transforming the man into who he wants to be. His body, the way he carries himself, represents his work ethic, what he stands for, what he believes in.

He started setting his own performance standards. If he just followed what I was saying, it'd stop when I'm gone.

He's ready for the Exit.

Phase three: the Exit

Two weeks ago he flew to San Francisco for a conference.

Instead of staying in his shell, he went out with a former Olympian, a cross-country skier, and ran a 5k. "I get to like a mile and a half... I'm like I can't talk anymore." He finished anyway. (Remember, in July he had to stop every 800 meters.)

He creates opportunities for himself by being active with people he respects.

He doesn't just go to a conference and stuff himself with whatever they serve. He has his own system. On the last night the organizers rented out a baseball stadium and served chicken and waffles. He had half, just to try it. "I shouldn't have eaten that. I used to eat that stuff all the time. And not like years ago, like we're talking four months ago."

The next morning he skipped the gym because "I just knew I needed the 90 minutes of sleep." He got right back to it at home and didn't gain a single pound.

I couldn't have made those calls for him from here.

He was always a beast. But he's gone from scared about his health and fed up with the way he looks to proud of his own body, doing things he was too uninspired to do before.

Driving to the gym one morning, it hit him: "I've come full circle. It's like going to swim practice, except now I'm taking my own ass."

He did that from age 8 to 20. Then came 15 years of starting over.

The man is an athlete again.

He's down 15 lbs. On Sunday he looked down and wrote: "I can see my toooeeessss."

What this means for you

Maybe you're just like him. Maybe you want to do it all at once and start a program that cannot possibly work with your lifestyle.

Maybe you've become so cynical, you can't see yourself getting there anymore.

Or maybe you're focusing on the wrong metric.

Shaving a minute off your run. Noticing you can pick up your kids. Those are the metrics to pay attention to.

If you're fed up with starting over every time the scale won't move, let's make this the last time.

To your last restart,
Bart

P.S. Curious: what's your own personal metric? Hit reply and tell me.

Bart Cagara

Helping founders get in shape one last time.

When you're ready, here's how I can help:

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