Body Systems Coaching

This isn’t a sympathy post.

I have dear friends dealing with things far worse.

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

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

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

Am I happy about it? Absolutely not.

A friend recently told me:

“Maybe you need to stop lifting so heavy.”

I vehemently disagree.

Could I have made a better exercise selection? Absolutely.

Could this have been avoided? Perhaps.

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

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

I’m 47.

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

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

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

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

There’s a difference.

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

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

F-that.

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

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

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

That’s what scares me.

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

And they get really good at explaining why.

I’m not advocating recklessness.

Wisdom SHOULD change how we operate.

But wisdom should make us more capable.

Not more timid.

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

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

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

Life will humble you.

Good.

Pay attention.
Learn the lesson.
Then keep going.

I see you. I believe in you.

Much Love,

Ben

Tomorrow night marks the end of Yom Kippur.

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

Hell of a way to start the Jewish New Year.

But the timing has had me thinking.

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

They just get harder to ignore.

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

Sleep like s**t and still perform.

Drink too much and bounce right back.

Train recklessly and somehow survive it.

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

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

Nothing is that bad yet.

Then you get older.

And life starts sending invoices.

Sometimes physically.

Sometimes professionally.

Sometimes in your marriage or relationship with your kids.

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

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

Where did I fall short?

Who did I hurt?

What did I neglect?

Where did I know better…and still choose otherwise?

But there’s an important second half:

What am I going to do differently now?

Because awareness without action doesn’t change much.

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

We don’t need to become perfect.

We do need to become more honest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I suspect it always will.

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

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

Much love,

Ben

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

That’s not a bad thing.

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

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

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

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

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

During our conversation, we talked about…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll LOVE it!

Link in bio

Enjoy the episode!

Ben

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

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

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

Alcohol was just my one vice.

But deep down, I knew better.

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

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

The hardest part was that nothing was falling apart.

My life was pretty good.

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

But I knew:

Pretty good and great are worlds apart.

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

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

So I made The Choice.

I went 30 days without alcohol.

And almost immediately, things changed.

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

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

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

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

But alcohol doesn’t control me.

Because I made The Choice.

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

The Choice isn’t about alcohol.

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

That voice is dangerous because sometimes nothing is really wrong.

Yet you know you’re capable of more.

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

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

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

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

2.5 days. 10 men. 6 spots remaining.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So they started asking a brutally simple question about everything.

“Will it make the boat go faster?”

Training? Will it make the boat go faster?

Sleep? Will it make the boat go faster?

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

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

It became their filter.

Because they realized something most people never do:

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

A lot of men get stuck here…

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

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

Then they wonder why nothing changes.

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

Ask the same question about your own life.

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

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

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

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

That’s what commitment looks like.

So here’s the question:

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

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

Your Coach,

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

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

Just 10 men. 6 spots remaining.

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

Funny times we’re living in...

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

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

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

Men, especially.

So many expectations:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If this is you...you’re not alone.

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

Comment “me” if you want details 👊

“As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.”

Incredible few days outside of the city with a badass group of men - eating, drinking, competing, getting brutally honest and vulnerable, and pouring into each other and what’s possible for the future.

I’m walking away grateful, loved, supported, and equally challenged and hungry for personal and professional growth in the days, weeks, and months to come.

In a world of sound bites, superficial conversations, unbridled insecurity, and AI-induced incompetence, there’s never been a more important time to lean into personal connection and community.

Honored to be a part of this brotherhood.

2nd annual Brown family SoCal walkabout in the books.

A beautiful family tradition we started last year is to take a few days, a stretch of coastline, and only what we need to carry and just walk.

Last year was San Diego - Oceanside to La Jolla.
This year, LA Beaches - Will Rogers State Beach to Redondo. About 25 miles.

We picked a couple decent hotels along the way, a pack full of water and snacks, some fresh un**es, and hit the boardwalk.

No agenda other than getting from point A to point B without heatstroke, a broken ankle, or an emotional breakdown.

Glad to say we made it in one piece…

But more importantly, we enjoyed invaluable family time together (my brother in law and niece/nephew), being active, minimizing technology, kids cousin time, and enjoying ALL the ice cream along the way.

Insert all the clichés about life being short, because that’s how I’m feeling with my oldest only 2 summers away from college.

Nonetheless, we’re going to keep this family tradition going for as long as possible.

Already planning for next summer 😎

Today is day 4 of my daughter’s volleyball tournament.

It’s been a lot.

Early mornings, long days, lots of caffeine (for dad), and wild emotional swings.

The girls are exhausted but still playing their hearts out, and most importantly, they’re loving it.

I’m in awe of their attitude, competitive spirit, and resolve…and it’s exactly why I think all youth should have the opportunity to play competitive sports.

Not for the accolades, but for the real-world lessons it imparts.

Confidence, resilience, teamwork, performance under pressure, patience, and the ability to handle adversity.

Funny enough, when I think about the men and women in my coaching community, the ones that show up despite the challenges, I’m reminded of the very same qualities that these young athletes possess.

These are CEO’s, executives, business owners, entrepreneurs, and decision makers, the vast majority of whom, not surprisingly, played high-school and collegiate sports.

The habits, behaviors, mental and physical resolve that we develop early on compound over time to form the backbone of who we have the opportunity to become.

As one of my mentors used to say, “success leaves clues”, and in a world that is becoming more and more adept at rewarding comfort and mediocrity, it’s not hard to see the traits of those who stand out.

It’s an unwavering acceptance and ownership of their circumstances.

An unapologetic conviction to do what they know is right, for themselves, their family, and their teams.

Uncomfortable conversations, humility, and grace in the face of challenges for which the only solution is to accept responsibility and pivot.

And to look hard in the mirror every single day and ask honest questions about where they have opportunities to improve.

That’s what competitive sports build in our youth.

That’s what real role models exemplify at home and on the playing field.

That’s how responsible men and women show up daily.

That’s what coaches and leaders help reinforce in their students.

Those are the defining characteristics of those who possess integrity, reliability, and dependability.

That’s who the world needs more of.