After two days in Reston, Virginia, I was fired out of the flying germ tube and deposited back home.
You know the machine: a pressurized aluminum Petri dish where a stranger coughs directly into your neck for three hours and the beverage cart contains the only medicine legally available at 34,000 feet.
Before climbing aboard, I had been locked in a conference room with my mentors, Coach Kav and Kane, plus a collection of fitness and business professionals.
No windows worth looking through.
Hotel carpet designed during a national shortage of taste.
Coffee powerful enough to remove corrosion from marine equipment.
For two straight days, we worked on business coaching, client communication and the uncomfortable process of finding the holes in how we operate.
Every person in that room paid to be there
Nobody was assigned this trip by corporate.
Each person bought a ticket, booked travel, bulldozed two days out of the calendar and voluntarily handed over money for the privilege of discovering what they were doing wrong.
Some had been in the profession for a decade. Others had survived more than two decades in the fitness thunderdome with yours truly, nerdy.
They could coast on what they already know, recycle the same methods and probably fool everyone for another five years.
And they showed up anyway.
Watching people who are already good continue grinding on their craft is one of my favorite things on this rotating space rock.
There was zero ego in the room
No revenue peacocking.
Nobody spent lunch explaining how they made seven figures during a full moon while working eleven minutes a week from a hammock.
Not one person hauled out AI-generated before-and-after photos that were, to use the proper scientific terminology, pulled directly from their own ass.
Instead, I saw people with high standards trying to serve their clients better.
That quietly renewed my faith in the fitness profession.
Our industry has no shortage of operators whose entire business model is to grab the cash, torch the evidence and relocate to a non-extradition island before the feds finish assembling the paperwork.
Spending two days with the other kind was good for my soul.
Running an online business is a lonely sport
I genuinely love how I work.
Laptop. Clients. Kiteboarding when the wind gods approve. Repeat.
It suits me.
…But the setup can become isolating.
Most weeks involve me talking to myself, talking to clients through a screen and then talking to myself about what I said to the clients.
Eventually, your internal staff meetings start getting weird.
Being around actual carbon-based life forms I have known for years, telling stories, arguing about programming and learning face-to-face, was a legitimate nervous-system reset.
That applies whether you coach people for a living or you are simply trying to get stronger without turning your lumbar spine into modern art.
You need other people.
Support. Encouragement. A second set of eyeballs.
Someone willing to tell you that your brilliant new plan is nonsense and your deadlift setup looks like a folding lawn chair collapsing in a hurricane.
The learning never stops.
Neither does the application, and that is the harder half.
If you want to learn from me without entering the airborne disease cylinder, I have a library of bite-sized lectures on my site. You’ll find topics including keto and recovery, HRV, behavior change and a long list of other aggressively nerdy subjects.
Explore the lectures and current access options.
Onward with applied knowledge and violent consistency,
Dr. Mike
