I’ve spent a lot of time trying to improve the quality of The Strong Stoic. Recently, I realized I wasn’t entirely sure what I meant by “quality.”

Better cameras. Better audio. Tighter editing. These things can improve an episode—but what might they leave behind?

In this open solo reflection, I explore the tension between polish and authenticity, the difference between communicating efficiently and letting an idea carry weight, and how improving our craft can leave us fixated on things our audience barely notices.

There’s an uncomfortable question on either side: am I calling it authenticity because I don’t want to do the work? Or am I chasing high standards because I’m afraid of being seen thinking?

Before we try to make something better, we should be honest about what we’re trying to improve—and what we’re willing to sacrifice.

What does a champion learn when someone else’s growth becomes the priority?

Spencer Moorman is a five-time national weightlifting champion, former US national team athlete, and the coach behind Iron Hex. He began lifting at eight years old under his father’s guidance and went on to train at California Strength. Today, he brings that experience to coaching athletes, including young Canadian lifting standout Rory van Ulft.

I joined Spencer at his home in Ottawa to explore the transition from competitor to coach—and the judgment it takes to know when to push, when to hold someone back, and when to step back yourself.

We discuss why technical knowledge isn’t enough to coach well, how a coach must evolve alongside the athlete, and whether strength training builds character or reveals it.

What stayed with me was Spencer’s thoughtfulness. There’s a real competitive intensity to him, alongside kindness and a deep appreciation for the people and experiences that shaped him.

A conversation about strength, identity, gratitude, and helping others become stronger—in every sense of the word.

Before serving in Vietnam, Jim MacKay entered a Franciscan monastery at seventeen. Across those very different paths, his desire to help people remained.

I joined Jim at his home in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, to talk about brotherhood, fear, rescuing wounded men, responsibility, and what he wishes people understood about those who return from war.

What struck me most was his kindness. I went to hear about his life and left feeling like I’d made a friend.

I encourage you to watch the video version if you can. Jim’s expressions and the quiet moments add something that’s hard to capture in audio alone.

Watch the full conversation:
https://youtu.be/0H8mLsb5AmI

Coming soon: a tour of Jim’s home, including his medals, photographs, and memories, plus a bonus conversation with a Vietnamese woman about Vietnam and Vietnamese culture for paid Substack subscribers.