You’ve got the ambition. You’ve got the goals. You’ve probably got more than enough information to get started. But somehow, every few months, you’re back making the same promises to yourself.
What if the answer isn’t another goal, another strategy, or another burst of discipline? What if it’s finally building a foundation that doesn’t disappear the moment life gets hard?
The Command Project Brotherhood is a community of men committed to building stronger bodies, stronger minds, meaningful lives, and the discipline to actually follow through. Real brotherhood. Daily standards. A system built to help you keep growing instead of constantly starting over.
You don’t need to become a different man overnight. You need to start becoming a man who keeps his word, one day at a time.
Join the Brotherhood — Founding Member $27/MonthFounding member pricing locked in while you stay. Cancel anytime. 30-Day Command Guarantee.
Monday, 2:45 a.m. Sitting in my truck with the lunch cooler on the passenger seat and coffee in a steel cup that was hot when I left the house. Still dark. Nothing but the glow off the gauges and another long day running an asphalt grinder ahead of me.
I’d done this for years. Up before most people went to bed. Thirteen, fourteen, sometimes sixteen-hour days, six days a week for months at a time.
And behind my seat was a gym bag. It had been there all week. Eight hundred miles riding around with me, and it never got unzipped.
I remember sitting there thinking the same thing I’d thought a hundred times before. This week is going to be different. I’m getting back in shape. I’m going to eat right. I’m going to quit wasting my nights and start making progress on my business. No more excuses. This time, I’m actually going to do it.
And I meant every word. That was the frustrating part. I wasn’t lying to myself when I made those promises. I genuinely wanted to change. I’d just been making the same promises for years.
If you’d asked me back then why I couldn’t seem to get where I wanted to go, I’d have had a convincing list. I worked too much. I didn’t have enough time. I needed to save more money, find the right business, make a better plan. Some of those were real obstacles. But they weren’t the whole story.
Because when I look back at those years, I can see something a hell of a lot more painful.
I was working harder than almost anybody I knew, and I wasn’t building the life I actually wanted.
I was building somebody else’s business. And every Monday, I was telling myself I’d finally start building mine.
I grew up the fat kid. Somewhere in my teenage years I decided I wasn’t going to stay that way, so I went all in: hours in the gym, strict diets, hard training. And it worked. I got in shape.
Then life happened. Work got busy and the days got longer. I’d get home exhausted, grab something through a drive-thru, have a few beers, and tell myself I’d get back on track tomorrow. One missed workout became a missed week. One bad week became a bad month. And eventually I’d look in the mirror and realize I’d fallen right back to where I started.
So what did I do? I set a bigger goal. I’d get pissed off enough at myself to go all in again. Train harder, eat stricter, push further. And I’d get results. Sometimes incredible results.
I summited Rainier twice. I summited Shasta twice and many others. I ran distances I’d once thought were impossible, and I built myself into the kind of shape I used to dream about. On March 9, 2024, I finished a 50K trail ultramarathon. Thirty-one miles through the mountains.


Less than two years later, on January 18, 2026, I took a picture in my bathroom mirror. Heavy again. Back to that Pillsbury Doughboy-looking MFer I’d spent so many years trying to leave behind.
I knew it before I took the picture. The jeans in the closet I’d stopped reaching for. The shirts that didn’t fit right. The mirror I avoided.




And here’s what bothered me more than the weight. I knew I could do hard things. I’d proved it. I could run 31 miles through the mountains, train for months, work sixteen-hour days, and push myself further than most people are willing to go.
So why the hell couldn’t I stay consistent?
Over twelve years, I started five LLCs. Five times I picked a name, filed the paperwork, and told myself this is the one. This is the business that gets me out of that truck.
I read the books. Listened to the podcasts. Bought the courses. Paid for coaching. And every time I learned something new, I’d get fired up and convince myself I’d finally found the missing piece.
Then the excitement wore off and the work got uncomfortable. The calls I didn’t want to make. The conversations I was afraid to have. The things I could put off because nobody was standing over my shoulder waiting for them. I’d get home after a long day and tell myself I’d work on the business tomorrow. Tomorrow became the weekend. The weekend became next month. And next month became another business idea, another course, another fresh start.
Five LLCs. None of them got me out of the truck.
Eventually I started asking myself a question that scared the hell out of me. What if I don’t actually have what it takes?
I’d watch other guys my age building businesses, making money, traveling, living the life I wanted, and I’d think: if they can do it, why can’t I? I knew I wasn’t lazy. I knew I wasn’t stupid. I knew I was willing to work. But my results weren’t matching what I believed I was capable of, and after enough years of that, you start wondering if maybe you’re just full of shit.
If you’ve ever felt that way, I know exactly how frustrating it is. Because the hardest part wasn’t failing. It was starting to lose belief in the man I thought I was.
Looking back, the pattern is obvious. I’d hit a point where I was disgusted with where I was. I’d set a massive goal, get motivated, and go all in, and for a while I’d be unstoppable. Then life would get busy. I’d miss a day, then another, and instead of adjusting I’d slowly abandon the whole thing until enough pain built up to start the cycle again.
I was gripping the wheel as hard as I could and trying to force my way to a finish line. And it worked, for a while. That kind of discipline got me up mountains and through an ultramarathon. But it never taught me how to keep the progress once the finish line was behind me. I was always chasing the next high: a bigger accomplishment, a harder challenge, another transformation.
Every time I climbed the mountain, I fell all the way back down. Not partway. Back to the same habits, the same excuses, the same starting point. Then I’d fight my way back up again. Year after year, for the better part of a decade.
Imagine what those ten years could have looked like if every time I made progress, I’d actually kept some of it. If each year built on the last instead of starting from scratch. If my worst weeks today were still better than my best weeks five years ago.
That’s what I was missing. Not bigger goals or harder challenges or another motivational speech. I needed a way to make progress stick, and a way to make sure one bad Wednesday didn’t turn into another wasted year.
Because that’s how it always happened. Not with some dramatic decision to quit. With a Wednesday. Monday, I meant it. Tuesday, I was still going. Wednesday, a job ran long and I got home exhausted. Thursday was the drive-thru and a six-pack. Friday, I figured I’d start fresh Monday. And there I was again.
For twelve years I showed up for another man’s company. Before sunrise, in the rain, exhausted, when I didn’t feel like it. Because there was a crew counting on me, a start time, and a standard I was expected to meet.
But when it came to my own goals, my health, my business, my future, there was nobody checking. Nobody who knew if I skipped. Nobody who noticed when I disappeared for three weeks. And there was always a perfectly reasonable explanation for why I’d get back to it tomorrow.
I had accountability for my paycheck and almost none for my own future.
That’s when I started recognizing what I now call the quiet miss.
The workout you skip and nobody knows. The business call you put off and nobody asks about. The promise you make on Sunday that’s gone by Wednesday. Not because you decided your goals didn’t matter, but because there was nothing to catch the miss before it became a pattern.
One missed day doesn’t destroy your progress. But when nobody notices, nobody reviews it, and nothing changes, that one day can quietly turn into a month, and then a year.
I didn’t need more pressure to be perfect. I needed a better way to respond when I wasn’t. Standards I could actually keep. A way to track whether I followed through. Men who’d notice when I went quiet. And a process for correcting course before I fell all the way back to zero.
I don’t believe we’re here just to wake up, go to work, pay bills, watch TV, and eventually die.
I believe men are supposed to build things. Create, solve problems, lead, provide, take risks. Push into situations that demand more of us. Climb mountains, start businesses, raise families, and build something meaningful that outlives us.
Not every man wants the same life. Some want to build companies. Some want to lead in their careers. Some want to raise incredible families, become stronger husbands and fathers, or prove to themselves they can do something they once thought was impossible. But most men have something inside them that wants to grow, and when you spend years ignoring that part of yourself, it eats at you.
You can make good money, have a decent job, own a nice truck, and still sit there wondering: is this really all I’m going to do with my life?
That’s where I was. I had a career that paid well and that I’d worked hard to build. But after twelve years, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was trading away the very life I was working so hard to create. And the older I got, the louder that feeling became. Because you don’t get those years back. The time you spend waiting for the right moment is still your life, and no amount of money buys back a decade.
I didn’t want to wake up at sixty and realize I’d spent my whole life capable of more but never having the courage to find out. I wanted a life I didn’t need to escape from. Freedom. Adventure. Meaning. Men I respected around me. A body that could carry me up another mountain. Work that mattered. And the ability to look in the mirror and know I was doing what I said I would do.
That life wasn’t going to come from another burst of motivation. I had to become the man capable of building it.
Twelve years in the Operating Engineers, making the kind of money most people would never walk away from. And I walked away.
Not because I’d built some wildly successful business or figured everything out. I quit because the pain of staying the same had finally become greater than the fear of finding out what I was capable of. I knew another year of telling myself someday wasn’t going to get me there. So I bet on myself and went all in on building my real estate business.
And suddenly everything got very real. I had jumped out of the plane, and now I had to build the parachute before I hit the ground.
No foreman telling me where to be. No paycheck coming Friday. No crew waiting on me. Just me, my decisions, and the consequences of whether I followed through. The same man who’d spent years struggling to execute on his own goals was now responsible for building an entirely new future.
I couldn’t keep having three incredible weeks followed by three months of nothing. I couldn’t keep changing direction every time something got uncomfortable. I couldn’t keep depending on another massive goal to drag me out of another hole. I needed to become consistent, not just when I was fired up, but especially when things got hard.
That’s when The Command Project stopped being an idea and became the way I had to live.
For years, I measured growth by my biggest accomplishments. How much weight I lost. How far I ran. What mountain I climbed. How ambitious my next business idea was.
There’s nothing wrong with big goals. I still believe men should chase things that scare them. But I finally realized the most important measure of growth wasn’t how high I could climb when everything was going right. It was how far I fell when everything went wrong.
Because life is going to happen. You’re going to get tired. Work is going to run late. Your kids are going to need you. You’re going to get sick, miss workouts, and make mistakes. And if your entire plan depends on being the most motivated, disciplined version of yourself every single day, that plan is going to break. Mine did, over and over.
So I started building around a different principle. Raise the floor.
Instead of asking how much can I accomplish when I’m going all in?, I started asking: What’s the standard I can keep even when life gets hard? How do I make sure one miss stays one miss? How do I catch myself slipping before I’m three months into another spiral? How do I surround myself with men who won’t let me disappear? And how do I make sure the progress I build this year becomes the foundation for next year?
But raising my floor took more than better habits and holding myself accountable. I also had to start looking at why I kept sabotaging my own progress in the first place. Why I’d avoid the things I knew I needed to do. Why I’d change direction the moment things got uncomfortable. Why I’d work so hard to achieve something, only to slowly slide back into the same behaviors.
I had to stop treating every missed commitment like an isolated discipline problem and start dealing with the patterns underneath it. Because you can build all the systems in the world, but if you never address what’s causing you to undermine yourself, you’ll keep finding ways around them. I had to work on the man behind the behavior, not just the behavior itself.
Not another temporary high. A new baseline. A higher floor.
The goal isn’t to never fall. The goal is a life where falling doesn’t mean starting over from zero. You get back up, you review what happened, you adjust, and you keep building. Over time, your floor gets higher. That’s how real growth compounds.
So I started addressing the patterns that had kept me stuck, building standards I could actually sustain, and creating systems that made it harder to quietly abandon my commitments. And I realized something else. I shouldn’t have had to figure all of this out alone.
Neither should you. That’s why I built The Command Project Brotherhood.
Build the man. Build the life. Don’t do it alone.
The Command Project Brotherhood is a personal-growth community for ambitious men who refuse to settle for an average version of themselves. Men who want to get stronger, build businesses, advance their careers, become better husbands and fathers, find purpose, build real friendships, and finally follow through on the things they’ve been talking about for years.
This isn’t a place where you join, watch a few motivational videos, and disappear. It’s a place where you participate. You set standards, take action, track your progress, learn from other men, share your wins, and tell the truth when you’re struggling.
The mission is bigger than getting you to check a box every night. It’s helping you become a man you respect, capable of building the life you want. We do that through three things:
Standards that turn your intentions into daily action.
Systems that help you recognize self-sabotaging patterns, execute consistently, and recover when life gets hard.
Brotherhood that challenges you, supports you, and holds you accountable along the way.
Founding member pricing locked in while you stay. Cancel anytime. 30-Day Command Guarantee.
Here’s how it works.
Stop negotiating with yourself every morning.
Every man has things he knows he should be doing. Training. Eating better. Reading. Working on the business. Real time with his family. The problem usually isn’t knowing what matters. It’s consistently doing it.
Inside the TCP app, you set your Command Standard: the daily actions you’re committing to. Not the fantasy version of your life with unlimited time and energy. Real standards built around the man you are today and the man you’re becoming. You start where you can consistently follow through, and then you build.
And every day you have a simple, honest record of whether you kept your word. No guessing, no negotiating with yourself after the fact, no pretending you had a great week when you know you didn’t. Because confidence doesn’t come from telling yourself what you’re going to do. It comes from proving to yourself that you do it.
What gets measured stops being invisible.
Every night, you open the app and score your day. Did you follow through? Where did you execute, and where did you miss? It takes about a minute.
The point isn’t perfection. It’s awareness. You stop letting weeks disappear without knowing where they went. You start seeing patterns and the situations where you struggle. And you start building evidence that your word means something. One day becomes a week, a week becomes a month, and a month becomes a foundation you can build on.
You stop measuring your life by what you intend to do and start measuring it by what you actually do.
You weren’t meant to do this alone.
When you join, you’re placed in a small pod of up to eight men who are working toward their own goals and holding themselves to their own standards. You can see each other’s progress, encourage each other, challenge each other, and notice when a brother has gone quiet.
Because here’s what I wish I’d had during those years in my truck. Not somebody screaming at me to work harder, and not another guru telling me I wasn’t hungry enough. A few good men who knew what I was working toward and weren’t going to let me quietly give up on it. Men who could say, Hey man, you’ve been quiet. Everything good? Or, You said this mattered to you. What’s going on? And sometimes, Quit making excuses. You know what you need to do.
That’s brotherhood. Not just men celebrating your wins, but men who care enough to tell you the truth when you need to hear it. Your pod shares an accountability board, not because your worth is a number, but because the commitments you make matter, and you’re part of something bigger than yourself.
You don’t have to be perfect to belong here. You do have to show up, tell the truth, and keep working.
One bad day doesn’t get to become another bad year.
This might be the most important principle in the whole system, because I know what it’s like to miss a day and mentally throw away the week. I know how easily “I’ll start fresh Monday” becomes next month.
So we have one rule: never miss twice. You’re going to miss sometimes. That’s life. The job is to recognize the miss, understand what happened, and get back to your standard at the next opportunity. No dramatic restart, no punishing yourself, no waiting until January. And if a standard is too big for the season you’re in, you adjust it to something you can sustain.
The man who keeps coming back goes a hell of a lot further than the man who keeps going all in and disappearing. A bad day is an event. It doesn’t have to become your identity.
Stop repeating the same week for ten years.
Every Sunday you review your week with three questions. What did I commit to? What did I actually do? What needs to change this week?
Instead of waiting until you’re frustrated enough to overhaul your life, you make small corrections every week. You see what’s working, what isn’t, and what’s getting in the way. Your review is shared with your pod, not to impress anybody, but to tell the truth and learn from the week you actually lived.
If I’d honestly reviewed my week every Sunday for those twelve years, I would have caught myself slipping long before I fell all the way back, and I’d have been forced to confront the same patterns years sooner. You don’t need another decade to figure out what isn’t working. You need to start paying attention now.
Men who actually want to see each other win.
Accountability is the foundation, but the Brotherhood is about more than tracking habits. Inside the Command Center, you’re surrounded by men pursuing growth in every area of life: fitness, business, career, family, mindset, purpose, adventure. Some are further ahead than you and some are just getting started, and every one of them brings different experience.
You can ask questions, share what you’re building, talk about what you’re struggling with, celebrate what you’re accomplishing, and contribute something back. Because men need other good men in their lives. Men who challenge their thinking, call them higher, and are genuinely glad to see them succeed.
Brotherhood isn’t built by joining a group. It’s built by showing up and participating in one.
Mind. Body. Character. Execution.
The man is the foundation of everything he wants to build. If your health is falling apart, it drains your energy. If you don’t trust yourself to follow through, it drains your confidence. So the app gives you the tools, not just the scoreboard:
Because the goal isn’t to become a man who’s good at checking boxes. The goal is to become a stronger, more capable man who actually lives differently.
Swipe to see more →
Founding member pricing locked in while you stay. Cancel anytime. 30-Day Command Guarantee.
It doesn’t always look impressive. Sometimes it’s getting the workout done on a day you would’ve skipped six months ago. Making the business calls you’ve been avoiding. Telling your family you’ll be home for dinner and actually being there. Going for a run when you’d normally reach for a beer. Admitting you had a terrible week and showing up anyway.
But here’s what happens when those actions add up. You stop needing a motivational speech every Monday. You stop reinventing yourself every January. You stop looking for the next book, course, or strategy to rescue you from the same habits. You start trusting yourself again, and you start taking on bigger challenges because you’ve built evidence that you follow through.
Imagine where you could be twelve months from now if you stopped falling all the way back every time life got hard. Imagine what five years of that does to your health, your relationships, your business, your confidence, your freedom.
You still have to do the work. But the way you’ve been approaching that work can change, and if you’ve been repeating the same cycle for years, changing the pattern changes the direction of your life.
I wish somebody had shown me this when I was twenty-five. I wish I’d understood that the answer wasn’t always to push harder, and that I didn’t need to keep proving I could do hard things. I needed to learn how to keep doing the important things when I didn’t feel like it.
I wish I’d had a few good men around me who understood what I wanted out of life. Men who’d challenge me, call me out, celebrate the wins, and notice when I started slipping. Maybe I’d have gotten out of that truck sooner. Maybe I’d have built one of those businesses instead of starting another. Maybe I’d have spent more of those years enjoying the body I’d worked so hard for instead of fighting to get it back.
I can’t know for sure. But I know what that cycle cost me: time, opportunities, confidence, and years of wondering why my life wasn’t matching what I believed I was capable of.
I can’t save you the last decade. But I don’t want you to lose the next one. That’s why I built The Command Project.
The daily system for setting and tracking the actions that matter to you.
A one-minute nightly check-in that turns your word into a record.
Up to eight men and a pod leader who know your commitments, share their own, and come get you when you go quiet.
A shared scoreboard so your consistency is visible and your pod has your back.
The one rule that keeps a missed day from becoming an abandoned goal.
Three questions every week that turn a bad week into a correction instead of a relapse.
The Brotherhood-wide feed where men share wins, struggles, questions and lessons.
66 programs for the gym, home, or a single pair of dumbbells, beginner to advanced.
Your targets, 18 meal plans, 60+ recipes and Sunday meal-prep guides.
Builds your 6-week training plan and sets your calories and macros.
Day Zero, 30 Days to Be a Man and Take Command, and more.
Pod leaders come from inside the Brotherhood, chosen from the men who keep their word.
The first 20 men in. You set the culture every man after you walks into.
“I’ve really enjoyed this community so far. With society being how it is nowadays, everyone glued to their phone and not engaging in real actual conversations, it’s been extremely beneficial to have a group of guys that don’t settle for complacency and strive for better in their lives. We hold each other accountable and push each other to be the man we want/need to become for our families.”
“You were the first person who motivated me to make the physical changes in my life that led me to making the mental changes, so today a couple got engaged because of things you contributed to. Trent Ebersole does better the world.”
“I have been apart of the command project for 3+ years. My overall experience has been great due to the community of men that want to be better in fitness and in everyday life. Trent has been an exceptional leader in the community and lead me to do a half marathon. The community has given me the confidence and accountability to strive to be better than I was yesterday.”
I’m building this Brotherhood for the long term, and the vision is bigger than an app. I want a community of men who genuinely change the direction of their lives, and who eventually become the kind of leaders who help other men do the same.
Every brotherhood starts somewhere, and the first men through the door set the culture for everyone who comes after. That’s why the first seats open at founding pricing:
Your rate stays locked for as long as you’re an active member. Cancel and come back later, and the current rate applies. No contract, no complicated cancellation. Just a decision to start showing up for yourself and the men around you.
Claim Your Founding Seat — $27/MonthCancel anytime in the app.
I don’t want you joining, scrolling around for a few days, and deciding this doesn’t work. I want you to actually run the system: set your standards, get into your pod, score your days, do your Sunday reviews, and find out what consistent action feels like.
So here’s my commitment. Score at least 25 of your first 30 nights and complete three Sunday After-Action Reviews. If you do that and decide the Brotherhood wasn’t worth it, I’ll refund your first month.
You don’t need a perfect score. An honest missed day still counts as a check-in. The point is participation and telling the truth, not being perfect.
Day 1 is the day after you join. Request the refund in the app or by email within seven days after day 30. First membership only; claiming it ends your membership. And separate from the guarantee, you can cancel anytime.
I can’t do the work for you. But I’ll stand behind the experience if you’ll show up and give it a real shot.
The man who’s tired of talking about the life he’s going to build. The man who’s ambitious enough to want something extraordinary and frustrated that his actions haven’t matched it. The man who works hard, makes decent money, and still wonders why he hasn’t made more progress toward what he actually wants.
The man who’s been in great shape before and keeps falling back. The man who’s started businesses, bought courses, made plans, and keeps ending up at the starting line. The man who wants to be a better husband, father, leader, or friend. The man who wants adventure and challenges that make him feel alive.
The man who knows he’s capable of more, and is finally ready to stop waiting for the perfect time to prove it.
You don’t need to have it figured out, be in great shape, own a business, or be the most disciplined guy in the room. You just need to be willing to take responsibility for your life, tell the truth about where you are, and do the work.
Who it’s not for. If you want someone to motivate you every morning while you refuse to act, this isn’t for you. If you want to pretend everything’s fine while avoiding responsibility, this isn’t for you. And if you want a community where you can consume endless information without applying any of it, there are plenty of those already.
This Brotherhood is for men who are ready to participate in their own growth.
Think about where you were five years ago. The shape you wanted to be in. The business you wanted to build. The life you pictured. Now look at where you are. Have you made the progress you thought you would, or are you still telling yourself some version of the same story? When things slow down. When I have more money. Next month. Next Monday.
I know how easy it is to convince yourself you have more time. I did it for a decade. And the next five years can go by just as fast.
Road one. You close this page. You get another burst of motivation, set another big goal, and go all in for a while. Then life gets busy, a Wednesday turns into a bad week, the week becomes a month, and you’re standing in the same place making the same promises. I walked that road long enough to know where it leads.
Road two. You stop promising yourself you’ll become a different man tomorrow and start building one, one day at a time. You set your standards. You join a pod of men doing the same. You score your days, learn from your misses, review your weeks, get back up when you fall, and keep building. And instead of returning to the same starting point every year, you work from a higher floor.
Same man. Same responsibilities. Same twenty-four hours. A different standard, a different system, and a brotherhood of men growing alongside you.
There’s a version of you that you haven’t met yet. He isn’t waiting at the end of another motivational video. He’s built through the promises you keep, the standards you refuse to abandon, and the men you choose to surround yourself with.
I spent a decade learning that the hard way. You don’t have to.
The next chapter of your life is going to be written either way. The question is whether you’re going to take command of it.
Join The Command Project Brotherhood — $27/MonthFounding member pricing. Cancel anytime. 30-Day Command Guarantee.
Be a man. Take command.
Trenton Ebersole
Founder, The Command Project
P.S. If you’ve read this far, there’s a reason. Something in your life isn’t where you want it to be, and you already know you’re capable of more. You don’t have to figure everything out tonight. You just have to stop waiting for another Monday. Founding seats are $27 a month, locked in for as long as you stay, and there are only 20.
Fitness is a big part of building a strong foundation, and the training and nutrition are included. But the Brotherhood is about your whole life: your body, your business, your career, your family, and the goals you keep putting off.
That’s why the Brotherhood exists. You don’t need to show up with it figured out. The system helps you set standards you can keep, build consistency, and make progress over time.
You score it honestly, recognize what happened, and get back to your standard at the next opportunity. Never miss twice. One missed day doesn’t have to become a restart.
A small group of up to eight men, with a pod leader, who share progress, encourage each other, and keep each other accountable. It’s your closer circle inside the larger community.
You choose commitments that fit your life. Scoring takes about a minute on your phone, and your Sunday review takes about fifteen. The goal is consistency you can sustain, not another unrealistic schedule.
No. You’re expected to be honest about your commitments and progress, but you don’t have to share anything private. Your pod sees your accountability activity, nothing more.
The Brotherhood is the ongoing community built around daily standards, peer accountability, resources, and relationships. The First Command is the more intensive coached program. You don’t need one to benefit from the other.
The first 20 founding memberships are $27 a month, members 21-40 are $47, and the regular price from member 41 on is $97. Your rate stays locked while your membership is active.
Yes. Profile › Membership in the app. Your access runs through your paid billing period.
Complete at least 25 nightly check-ins and three Sunday After-Action Reviews in your first 30 days. If you did that and don’t believe it was worth it, request a refund of your first month in the app or by email within seven days after day 30. Honest check-ins count even when you missed your commitments. First membership only; a refund ends your membership.
No. The Brotherhood welcomes men of different backgrounds and beliefs who share a commitment to personal responsibility, integrity, growth, and respect for one another.
Nobody does on day one. You’ll have a pod from the start, and the Command Center is where you introduce yourself, meet the other men, and start building relationships.