Living with a SEAL - 31 Days Training with the Toughest Man on the Planet
How much do I want to read more? 8/10
That's definitely funny. It reads like watching an action movie. The author definitely is an original guy when he says whenever he sees someone making a strong impression on him, he makes friend with him.
People ask me why I hired SEAL.
Many of us live our lives on autopilot. I wanted to shake things up in a big way.
research shows that stepping out of our routine in life is great for the body and spirit.
I believe the best ideas are the ones you don’t spend too much time thinking through.
Most of my successes in life have come from learning how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable.
Every day do something that makes you uncomfortable.
SEAL moved into my home to train me in December 2010. That winter went on to be one of the snowiest on record.
I was sure my mission with SEAL would be compromised. But that was before I knew him.
DAY 1 - The Arrival
I do as many push-ups as I can: twenty-two.
he NEVER asked for my address, NEVER inquired what to bring. He wouldn’t give me his flight information and didn’t request a car service. NOTHING. In fact, the only thing the man said was:
“I arrive at oh seven hundred.” That’s military time for 7:00 a.m.
Physically, the man looked like someone sprayed muscle paint all over his body. Ripped. Flawless.
He ran with a sense of purpose that I couldn’t quite comprehend. He ran as though lives depended on it, like he was running into a burning house to save someone, a kitten or an old woman. With each stride he took it seemed like he was creating mini-earthquakes beneath his feet, but at all times his form was perfect, his eyes locked in a stare, a focus that was diamond-tip PRECISE.
I noticed him again, this massive, two-hundred-plus-pound block of carbon steel, being helped to the parking lot by a woman (whom I would later find out was his wife), looking like he just survived a plane crash.
I concluded two things:
- I had never seen anyone like this.
- I had to meet him.
I tracked down a contact number and called him cold.
This is a habit I have. When I see or read about someone interesting, I call them up and basically ask them to be my friend.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Just give me fifteen minutes to propose something to you in person,” I said finally. “I’m in New York City but can fly out tomorrow.”
Finally: “You wanna come out… it’s on you,” he said.
Twenty-four hours later I was in California.
We met in a local restaurant in San Diego. After some small talk, which consisted of me talking and him saying nothing in response, I asked him to move into my house to train me.
He stared at me with cold, flat eyes. I couldn’t tell if he thought I was nuts or if he was figuring out if I was worth his time. He was sizing me up.
One minute passed. Then another.
“Okay, I’ll do it with one condition,” he said in a tone that was slightly motivational in a psychopathic drill sergeant way. “You do everything I say.”
“And that means EVERYTHING.”
“I can wake you at any time; I can push you to any extreme.”
“NOTHING is off limits. NOTHING.”
“By the time we’re done you’ll be able to do a thousand push-ups in a day.”
At exactly 7:00 a.m. there’s a knock on my door.
He has NO luggage. NO suitcases. NO expression. In spite of the fact that it’s December and it’s freezing out, he’s wearing NO coat. NO hat. NO gloves. And there’s NO greeting.
He simply says, “You ready?”
That’s it? No warm-up pitch? No “nice to see you again”? No “it’s cold out, huh?” Maybe something nice and easy, right down the middle?
SEAL doesn’t laugh.
If you want it to be seventy and sunny… it’s seventy and sunny. Just run. The elements are in your mind. I don’t ever check the temperature when I run.
“Does that work the same way in heat? I mean, if it’s ninety-five degrees outside, can you make it snow in your mind?”
“Nah, man, it’s a one-way system, bro. Cold to hot only. When it’s hot outside… it’s just fucking hot!”
For the first time I can see SEAL’s front teeth as a smile starts to form. He is ecstatic; I can see the change in his expression just from walking inside of the gym. It’s almost like watching The Wizard of Oz for the first time when you see the screen go from black and white to color. It’s a whole new world. He walks over to the pull-up bar, jumps up, grabs the bar, and hangs. He starts to swing and swing some more and swing until he finally jumps off. I guess he approves because his smile has grown.
“This is perfect. You ready?” he asks.
I don’t think I have ever done seventeen pull-ups so fast, or ever, for that matter. I grab my left bicep with my right hand and my right bicep with my left hand and squeeze. It feels like there are nails in my biceps.
“Seventeen! Cool, that’s my max number. I didn’t think I could even do that. Amazing! Let’s head back upstairs.”
As I start to look up, SEAL is staring at me with a blank expression… deadpan. “We’re going to stay here until you do a hundred.”
“I can’t do a hundred. That’s impossible,” I say.
“You better find a way,” he says to me like a father might tell his son to clean his bedroom. “You got a shitty-ass attitude.”
I do one and drop to the floor.
I do another one and drop to the ground. I take another lap around the gym and I’m back to the pull-up bar. I drop. Lap… Pull-up… Drop… Lap… Pull-up… Drop…
Ninety minutes later I’m on ninety-seven.