8:15: Fight Club, for real

Josh Cate from Cate Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu came out early and ran a workshop on what to do when you're in a bad spot. Flat on your back, somebody on top of you, no room to breathe. Josh walked the group through how to protect yourself, create space, and get back to your feet. Simple, practical, and built for the kind of situation nobody plans on and every man ought to be ready for.

Two dozen grown men drilling escapes on a driveway at 8:15 in the morning is a sight. A couple of the kids got on the mats too, which was the best part.

Josh does this for a living. If you've been thinking about learning to defend yourself or your family, or you want your kids on a mat with a coach who knows what he's doing, go support him: Cate BJJ and Kickboxing. Tell him the dads sent you.

The Word: send me

Jonathan Fleury brought the devotional, and the whole morning hung on three words from Isaiah.

Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.

Isaiah 6:8

Isaiah didn't ask what the job was. He didn't ask who else was going. He heard the call and volunteered. That's the posture. Not "somebody should do something." Not "I'll go if the other guys go." Here am I. Send me.

Then Aaron picked it up and took it one step further. Be the kind of man who says send me even if it means walking into the fight alone. And be the kind of brother who never lets a man actually walk in alone. Both. At the same time.

He showed the clip to make the point. Jon Snow, outnumbered, watching his little brother die, draws his sword and walks out to meet an entire army by himself. He's done. He knows it. And then his brothers come storming past him into the fight. He was willing to go alone. They weren't willing to let him.

That's the Dad Standard in one scene. Say send me. And make sure no man in this group ever has to mean it by himself.

The board: Inheritance

The 10/31 board was titled Inheritance, and it was a four-station day because it had to be. We had so many people show up that the three stations on the whiteboard weren't enough, so a fourth one got drawn on a sandwich board and dropped by the curb.

Buy-in: a 1K run, 10 walk-outs, 20 push-ups, 30 air squats. Then rotate.

• Gym: banded EZ-curl 8, fringe row 8, pull-ups 8, deadlift 8, KB/DB high row 20
• Turf: devil's press 14, cable fly 12, barbell bench 10, 5, 5, med-ball push-ups 6, DB shoulder press 8
• Fight Club: toes over box 8, GHD rounds 5/5, sissy squats 8, sandbag carry 1, bear drags 8, short-bar Turkish get-ups 12
• Condition (the one we added): team max calories on the rower, the runner and the bike, and while your teammates are pulling, each man knocks out 40 slam balls, 50 air squats and 60 push-ups

Cash-out: team hill suicide races. The top Condition team put up 444 calories. Nobody complained about the fourth station. Nobody got to.

Thank you, Carson

Every photo in this post was shot by Carson from Griffin Cox Media, who gave up a Saturday morning to stand in a driveway with a real camera while grown men grunted at him. The difference between a phone snapshot and these is obvious. Connect with Drew if you are interested in working with Griffin and his team.

Mark it: November 14, Pump and Run

Two Saturdays out we're doing something different, and you need a partner for it.

• Run a 5K.
• The clock doesn't stop. You have 60 seconds after you cross the line to be on the bench.
• Bench your body weight for as many reps as you can get.
• Every rep takes 20 seconds off your 5K time.
• Partner event. Your time plus your partner's time is your team score.
• Awards will be presented.

So find a partner now. Pick somebody who runs if you lift, or somebody who lifts if you run. Then spend the next two Saturdays wishing you'd trained for it. November 14. Be there.

Here am I. Send me.

The Word: thirsting for the Spirit

Reid brought the Word, and it was about thirst.

We thirst for a lot of things. The next promotion. The number on the bar. The truck, the house, the weekend, the drink at the end of a long day, the next thing after that. None of it is wrong on its own. The problem is none of it quenches. You get it, you're satisfied for about a week, and then you're thirsty again, usually for a bigger version of the same thing.

Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again: But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst.

John 4:13-14

That's Jesus at a well, talking to a woman who had come back to it every day of her life. The thirst isn't the problem. God built it into you. The problem is what you keep pouring into it. Reid's point was simple: thirst for the Spirit the way you thirst for everything else, and watch what happens to everything else.

Worth sitting with on a Tuesday, when the thing you're chasing is right there and still doesn't fill the tank.

The workout: lift heavy, push hard

Rassel programmed this one, and the instructions fit on a sticky note. Lift heavy. Push hard.

Buy in: a team 1K, then 50 squats, 40 push-ups and 30 V-ups. Gym: round one at 50 to 75 percent to warm up, rounds two and three as many reps as possible. Barbell bench, belt squat, trap bar or sandbag deadlift, dumbbell hammer curls, assault bike to 100 before you switch. Turf: sandbag bear carry, heavy ball slams, cable lat pulldowns, cable overhead tricep extensions. Elements: landmine chest press, heavy walking lunges, weighted GHD extensions, heavy EZ bar curls, and 15 to 20 seconds on the treadmill before you move. Buy out: another team 1K.

Heavy means heavy. Nobody got a trophy for the lightest bar. And push hard means the man next to you is watching, which is the whole reason this works.

Big group

Look at the photo at the top of this post. Count them. Now count the kids.

That's the part worth remembering. The standard isn't being set in a vacuum. It's being set in front of a boy in a red shirt and a little girl on her dad's shoulders, who watched a driveway full of grown men lift heavy and push hard and not quit. They won't remember the board. They'll remember what their dad looked like doing it.

If you were there: good. Bring somebody next week.

If you weren't, you know how this works. You have to know a dad. Ask him. Or reach out and we'll start there.

Show up. Don't quit. Be a good person. Lift heavy. Push hard.

Tie one to a piece of thread. Hold the thread between two fingers, elbow on your knee, and let the paperclip hang dead still. Now don't move. Just think about it swinging in a circle. Don't try. Just picture it.

It moves.

Every man in the garage did it, and every man got the same result. Nobody was swinging it on purpose. Your hand was doing what your mind was picturing, without asking you first.

Everything gets through

That's the whole lesson, and it isn't a party trick. Whatever gets into your mind gets through to your body and your soul, whether you decide to let it or not. There's no gate. The thought comes in, and your hands, your mood, your temper, your posture at the dinner table all start moving in that direction, the same way the paperclip did.

So the question isn't whether what you're taking in is shaping you. It is. The question is what you're taking in.

Most of us are running a steady feed of things we never chose. The scroll. The news. The voice at 11 PM that says you're behind, you're failing, everybody else has it figured out. You don't think you believe any of it. But you don't think you're moving the paperclip either.

For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he.

Proverbs 23:7

What God actually calls you

If everything that gets in gets through, then you'd better be putting something in on purpose. And the best thing to put in is what God says you are, because He's the only one who gets a vote.

Here's what He says.

That they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified.

Isaiah 61:3

Trees of righteousness. The old Hebrew word there is a big tree, and most translations say it plainly: oaks. Solid oaks. Planted by God, on purpose, so that people would look at them and see Him.

Think about what an oak is. It is not fast. It does not sprout up in a weekend and it does not blow over in one. It grows slow, roots deep, and when the storm hits it's still standing in the morning. That is what you were made to be. Not a reed that bends toward whatever the culture is blowing this week. An oak.

And it doesn't stop there.

And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ.

Romans 8:17

And will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.

2 Corinthians 6:18

Heir. Son. Those aren't titles you earn on a good week and lose on a bad one. They're what you are. They were true before you walked in the garage and they'll be true when you leave.

Put it in on purpose

So here's the work. If the paperclip is going to move anyway, you decide which direction.

Fill your mind with what God says about you, deliberately, every day, before the world gets its turn. Say it out loud if you have to. I am an oak. I am an heir. I am a son of the living God. It will feel strange the first week. The paperclip felt strange too. Do it anyway.

That's half of why we open the Word at 8:30 before anybody touches a bar. It isn't a warm-up for the real thing. It's the real thing. The workout is where you prove it to your body.

Be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind.

Romans 12:2

Tuesday

Here's where it lands.

Tuesday night, the kids are melting down, your wife is tired, you're tired, and the thought shows up: I'm not good at this. I'm a bad dad. That thought goes straight through, and your voice gets sharper and your shoulders drop and the whole house feels it. The paperclip moves.

Catch it. Replace it. I'm an oak. I'm an heir. I'm a son. I am planted here, in this house, with these kids, on purpose, by God, so that they can look at me and see Him. Then go back in the room and act like it.

That's not positive thinking. That's just agreeing with what's already true.

Keep it rolling

Show up Saturday. Open the Word. Pick up something heavy. Go home and be a dad.

And if there's a man in your life who's been feeding on the wrong things, you know how this works. You have to know a dad. Be the one who invites him. Or reach out and we'll start there.

Show up. Don't quit. Be a good person. You're an oak. Stand like one.

Three stations under it. Gym: landmine rows, dumbbell floor press, tricep pushdowns, kneeling shoulder press, strict curls. Turf: dumbbell around-the-worlds, snatches, D-ball burpees, sandbag box step-ups, slam ball reverse lunges, the 200-pound sandbag deadlift. Condition: thrusters, sissy squats, deficit push-ups, GHD sit-ups, sled pushes, banded curls.

It rained. Again. The driveway was a sheet of water and the barbells sat right in it. Nobody moved inside.

What momentum actually is

Momentum isn't a feeling. It's physics: mass times velocity. A thing with enough of both is hard to stop, and a thing with neither is easy to leave in the driveway.

You don't get it from one great Saturday. You get it from a lot of ordinary ones stacked on top of each other. The alarm you didn't want to hear. The rain you drove through anyway. The man who came once because somebody made him, and then came back on his own. That's mass. Do it week after week and that's velocity.

And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.

Galatians 6:9

Notice what that verse doesn't say. It doesn't say spectacular doing. It says well doing, which is mostly quiet and mostly repetitive and mostly unseen. And it doesn't say this season. It says due season, which means the reaping is coming but it's not on your schedule. The only part you control is the last five words. If we faint not.

That's the whole program. Don't faint. Show up again.

A room that won't let a man fail alone

At one point Saturday somebody got under a heavy bar. Nobody announced it. The whole garage just stopped, drifted over, and stood around the rack.

That's momentum too. Not the lift, the room. A group of men who've suffered next to each other enough Saturdays that when one of them is about to attempt something hard, the rest of them show up without being asked. You can't buy that and you can't sign up for it. You stack Saturdays until it's just what the room does.

Where it shows up on Tuesday

Here's the part that matters. Momentum built in a wet driveway doesn't stay in the driveway.

It shows up at 6 AM when the alarm goes off and you've got a choice. It shows up at 7:40 PM when your kid wants to throw the ball and the couch is right there and your legs still hurt from Saturday. It shows up in the conversation with your wife you've been putting off. Same muscle. The man who didn't quit at 9:40 in the rain is a lot harder to stop at 7:40 with his family.

That's why we don't let anybody quit in the garage. It's not about the workout. It's practice for everything else.

Keep it rolling

If you were there Saturday, the only thing that matters is next Saturday. Don't break the chain. And bring somebody. Momentum is contagious, and there's a dad in your life who needs to catch it.

If you weren't there, you know how this works by now. You have to know a dad. Ask him. Or reach out and we'll start there.

One more thing. Somebody brought a real camera this week, and it shows. Thank you.

Show up. Don't quit. Be a good person. Keep it rolling.

That's not an oversight. We train at one of the guys' homes, so the address doesn't go online. You have to know somebody in the group to get it.

Some men hear that and figure it's a closed club. It isn't. It's the only rule we have about getting in, and it might be the most important thing about the place. Here's why.

It's a man's home

Start with the obvious. This isn't a gym with a lease and a sign out front. It's a garage, a driveway, and a family's front yard. His wife lives there. His kids sleep there. He rolls that door up every Saturday for a crowd of grown men with sandbags because he wants to, not because anybody pays him to.

You don't put that address on the internet. Not for a hundred new guys, not for anything. The man who hosts us is trusting every one of us with his home. The least we can do is make sure every truck that pulls in belongs to a man somebody in the group would stake his name on.

An invitation is not a sign-up

Think about how you ended up anywhere that actually mattered in your life. Your church. Your job. The friends you'd call at 2 AM. Odds are you didn't find them through a form. Somebody brought you.

When a man invites you, two things happen at once. He becomes accountable for you, and you become accountable to him. He's going to look for your truck Saturday morning. You're going to feel it when it isn't there.

Sign up on a website and nobody's waiting on you. That's why the gym down the road can sell a thousand January memberships and have a quiet parking lot by March. Nobody's name was on the line.

We're not a business. We're a round table. Round tables don't have a sign-up link. They have a guy who pulls out a chair and says, sit here.

This is how it has always worked

Philip saith unto him, Come and see.

John 1:46

Nathanael had just asked whether anything good could come out of Nazareth. Philip didn't argue with him. Didn't make a case. Three words: come and see. One man, one friend, one invitation.

The garage isn't the Kingdom. But it runs on the same engine. There's no ad for this. Every dad in there is there because another dad looked at him and said, you need this, come Saturday. That's the whole growth strategy, and it's the only one we want.

So what if you don't know anybody?

Then that's where we start. Not a dead end, a starting line.

Reach out on the site or DM @thedadstandard.tn. Tell us a little about yourself: where you are, how many kids, what you've been meaning to do for a while now. One of the dads will get back to you personally and we'll go from there. At some point one of us is going to say the words. Come Saturday. Then you'll know a dad.

It takes a little longer than clicking a button. That's on purpose. The things worth being part of usually do.

And if you do know a dad?

Ask him. This week. Don't wait until you're in better shape, because every man in that garage was out of shape once and nobody's keeping score. The hardest rep is getting out of the truck.

And if you're the dad being asked: say yes, and understand what you're doing. You're not handing out an address. You're vouching for a man, in another man's driveway, in front of his family. That's a weight. Carry it. Then show up next to him so he doesn't quit.

If there's a dad you've been meaning to invite, Philip didn't wait for a better moment either.

Show up. Don't quit. Be a good person. Know a dad, and be a dad worth knowing.

The group grew, in size and in purpose. What began as a grueling suck-fest of a workout became a crew of dads who look forward to pushing one another in the company of men in the same season of life. Shared suffering. Shared accountability. Shared encouragement.

What this is, and what it isn't

This isn't a business. Nobody's getting paid and nothing's for sale. It's a round table. We share the workout, celebrate the wins, encourage each other through the hard weeks, and keep chasing improvement in four places: fitness, family, faith, and brotherhood.

It all comes down to the name. The Dad Standard. There's a standard to be upheld, and your people are watching. Earn the title. Protect the title. Be the hero your kids think you are and the man your spouse deserves.

What a Saturday looks like

At 8:30 we open God's Word. A short passage, a few honest words for the men in the room and the families they're going home to. Some Saturdays that time is a Standard Workshop on something a man needs to get right: faith, family investing, nutrition, leadership, combatives, meal planning, brews and budgets.

At 8:45 it's the briefing: the plan on the whiteboard, bars loaded, blood moving.

At 9:00 the music goes on and the whiteboard's full. Heavy movements, high tempo, relay races, sandbags, belt squats, whatever hurts that week. Everything is acceptable: throw up, slow down, lower the weight, scale the movement. Never quit. That's the one rule that matters.

By 10:00 you're wrecked, gassed, and better than when you pulled in. Handshakes in the driveway. Then you go home and be a dad.

Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.

John 15:13

Laying down your life is rarely one big moment. Most weeks it's a Saturday alarm you didn't want to hear and a brother in a driveway who's expecting you.

If you've been meaning to do something

This is the something. Out of shape is fine. Every man in that garage started somewhere, nobody's judging, and nobody lets you quit. There's no fee and no membership. Just show up.

If you're in Belltown and know one of the dads, ask him about Saturday. We train at one of the guys' homes, so the address never goes online; you have to know someone in the group to get it. If you don't know anyone yet, reach out and we'll start there. If you're somewhere else, follow along, run the workouts in your own garage, and reach out if you want help starting something like this where you live.

Set the Dad Standard in your circle. Then exceed it.