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I’ve never met a gym owner who didn’t have a great idea. Before January 1, I’ll have done over 1500 free calls with gym owners. And almost every time, I hear this: “I really want to get my X started, but I’m too busy.” or “I listen to your podcast and I’m intrigued by your Z, but I don’t have the staff to help me run it.” or “I can’t afford to pay my coaches to start a Y program. I can barely get them to clean the floor at night after their classes!”   Next Monday on the 100th episode of our podcast, I’m afraid I’m going to make it worse. I’ll share my vision for what the next three years holds for the microgym owner: the threats, opportunities and tactics for reaching the next level of success.   If you’re still coaching most of the classes at your gym, that episode will make you angry. Good. More ideas isn’t the problem. Lack of action is the problem. And it’s a solvable one.   Here’s how to get yourself the time to build your “big idea”, add new programs to your gym–or just go home to see your kids in the Christmas pageant.   First, break down the roles and tasks in your business. We cover this in the second week of the Incubator, and it’s also spelled out in Two-Brain Business 2.0 if you’re running at DIY speed.   Second, assign a value to each role. This is the cost to replace you in that role (for example, I can hire a cleaner for around $13 per hour in my city.)   Third, do a time valuation: wear a watch for a week, and record every role in which you spend more than five minutes. This is tedious, and there are apps that can help. But if you spend more than five minutes on email, write that down. ...

My father-in-law is 75. He spent his life in a steel mill, raising 5 kids on a tiny salary and running a small farm in the Valley. When he retired, he started working on old cars. Restoration is his vocation. If you’ve ever heard Johnny Cash’s “One Piece at a Time”–that’s Russ. Russ doesn’t build “kit cars”. His Model A has been chopped down, souped up, and customized from head to toe. Most of the pieces don’t match the original design. He dropped a larger engine inside. He changed the original seat configuration. When he was younger (age 70) he used to spin the tires at the end of my driveway on his way to car shows. He liked the shows because he liked to see the work of others. But he stayed away from the “polishers”–the guys who bought their cars premade, and just run them out of the garage for show. These are the guys who (like me) can barely change their own oil. He doesn’t dislike their cars. He doesn’t think “the polishers” are bad people. He just knows there’s a difference between what he’s done–built a car–and what they did–bought a hobby. Russ’ cars are awesome because he builds them with imperfect but continuous action. He works a little bit every day. Usually less than hour. Russ’ cars aren’t perfect. They don’t completely match the original specifications. But they run. They go fast. They look cool. His grandkids play in them. Neighbors complain about the noise–in short, all the reasons you really want to own a classic car. Consistent, imperfect action is the recipe for success: in relationships, in business and in fast old cars. Last week, I published and shared TwoBrain 2017 – a 308-page book I wrote almost by accident. I write these “love letters” to you almost every day, and well–they stack up. So we put them together in a book, because it ...