In the parable of the prodigal son, the younger of two brothers lusts after a wild lifestyle and his father (who I suspect knows this) gives him his inheritance early and bids him adieu.
Unsurprisingly, the younger son’s jaunt does not end well at all.
There was a famine in what appeared a land of plenty, and he wound up working as a pig farmer. (He was also starving, longing to eat what he was feeding the pigs yet being forbidden from doing so.)
And so he returned to his father, broken and filthy, begging to be taken back under his care and protection.
The father, righteous as he was, took his wayward son in with open arms, clothing him in finery and laying on an almighty celebration.
There is, of course, a little more to the story but this is sufficient to illustrate the point I want to make today.
Which is?
Quite often I am approached by men (it is almost always men in this specific scenario) who are struggling on the training front, typically spinning their wheels while battling with niggling injuries and fatigue.
Rarely do they ever move forward in the first instance when they see what I am selling (boring basics that take a very long time and much effort to deliver results).
Instead, the toddle off into the wilds of social media, attracted by the dazzling lights of drugged up coaches with eating disorders and exercise addictions who promise dramatic transformations in 12 weeks.
And then?
In a handful of cases, they return broken and filthy from their experience. And while they don’t “beg” to come under my care and protection (it would be weird if they did, quite frankly), they do recognise how good they’ve got it in my World, so are happy to hand over some coin in exchange for learning how to train correctly.
Yes, this is a blatant sales pitch aimed at any of my beloved “prodigals” reading this.
My fatted calf awaits you here:
https://philtyreman.co.uk/information/
Thank you,
Phil Tyreman