One Coach to Rule Them All

Hey everyone, welcome back! I hope you enjoyed my first post, where I introduced why I’m doing this. I really struggled with how to follow up because when you're you know really trying to to show people the way so to speak my mind goes a million different places so I think I'm going to stop start again at places that mean a lot to me and really shape how I do things it's not necessarily about memorization it's about implementing the art of the science if that makes sense so , Now, let’s dive into something that shapes my entire philosophy as a coach: the difference between transactional and transformational coaching. And because I’m sticking with the nerd theme, let’s frame this through a Tolkien lens—think of transactional coaching as Saruman’s approach, and transformational coaching as Gandalf’s.

Transactional vs. Transformational Coaching

First, let’s look at the textbook definitions:

Transactional Coaching – A method where the coach provides guidance, programs, or support in exchange for payment, with minimal long-term engagement or personalization.

Transformational Coaching – A coaching style focused on long-term personal growth, development, and behavioral change, emphasizing education, empowerment, and self-sufficiency.

What Does This Really Mean?

We live in a world driven by transactions—everything from paying for coffee with your phone to Venmo-ing friends, buying crypto, or investing in stocks. Transactions are constant and often impersonal. But when it comes to health and fitness, I believe we need more than transactions—we need transformation.

Yes, some people just want a workout plan or diet program; they pay, they get their product, and they move on. There’s nothing wrong with that. But I think this approach has become too dominant. Coaching isn’t just about handing over a plan and collecting money; it’s about helping people truly change their lives. And the way I bridge the gap between the two? Education.

And look I'm not talking about educating people verbatim from the book I'm not talking about sending them references I'm talking about being able to digest it yourself and make it understandable for everyone because not everyone has the same mind not everyone thinks the same way sees the same things reads the same things they all perceive it differently so it is I look at it as our job to take the gift we have which is the knowledge of the human body and Physiology and nutrition and all this and make it consumable in a way to help people I just am not of the mind that a barrier to health and longevity should be money

Instead of just handing a program to an athlete, I try to make sure they understand the why behind it. It’s the difference between just doing a movement and knowing how that movement fits into their greater athletic development. Let’s look at how our Tolkien comparison plays out:

• Saruman’s Method: “Follow my orders, no need for explanations.”

• Gandalf’s Method: “A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he explains things precisely when he means to.”

• Saruman’s Method: “Eat exactly this and don’t ask questions.”

• Gandalf’s Method: “A meal should sustain your journey, not just fill your belly. Here’s how to fuel for longevity.”

• Saruman’s Method: “Just lift heavier and get stronger, that’s all that matters.”

• Gandalf’s Method: “Strength is not simply power, it is endurance, control, and resilience. Let me teach you how to build it properly.”

• Saruman’s Method: “Take the shortcut to results.”

• Gandalf’s Method: “Shortcuts make long delays. Mastery is in the process, not the destination.”

Oh boy, that was fun! I love trying to come up with Gandalf’s take on things. But for those of you who aren’t Tolkien nerds, here’s what all that really means:

• A coach who just gives you a plan without explanation or long-term engagement is like Saruman; focused on quick, often superficial results.

• A transformational coach, like Gandalf, doesn’t just give you a plan. He teaches you why it works, how to adjust it over time, and how to use it to become self-sufficient in your own training.

• Saruman is about immediate control, getting followers to do exactly what he says. Gandalf, on the other hand, empowers his people, trusts them to grow, and teaches them to find their own path.

• Following orders blindly might work for a short time, but true mastery comes from understanding the process and embracing the journey.

The Road Goes Ever On

Just like Bilbo’s journey didn’t end when he left the Shire, real transformation isn’t a quick fix, it’s a lifelong adventure. There’s no single shortcut to Mordor; you have to take the long road, step by step, and build resilience along the way.

So ask yourself: do you want to be Saruman, taking the easy way only to watch everything crumble? Or do you want to be Gandalf, guiding steady progress that withstands the test of time?

Because, in the end, even the smallest adjustments can change the course of your entire journey.

An Unexpected Journey

Welcome to My Journey

Hi everyone, I’m Anthony Furman. Whether you’ve been following me since my strongman days, discovered me on Titan Games (The Rock’s show), Clash on the Coast, through my mental health advocacy, or on Bodybuilding.com—whatever the route, I’m glad you stopped by. Here, I share my thoughts, experiences, and education as I navigate today’s realities and the big ideas being debated.

A Bit About Me

I’m not here to bore you with a long life story—plenty of people do that. I know sharing a bit about my background gives me some credibility, but I believe credibility is earned by delivering factual, relevant information and sticking to your word. That said, here’s a snapshot:

I grew up in a trailer in Erie, PA, like many Americans, with a simple goal: to build a better future for myself and my children. The events of 9/11 had a profound impact on me, instilling a deep-seated need to do what’s right. At the time, that meant fighting against the tide of fascism and dictatorship. So, I did what I had to do—I joined the U.S. Army and served as an infantryman, with deployments to Afghanistan and Iraq. Those experiences taught me discipline, resilience, and the importance of integrity.

After my military service, I looked for my next challenge. I had my share of setbacks—knee surgeries from my time in the army, for example—but I was determined to push forward. One day, Mark Taysom had me lift a stone, and the rest is history. I went on to compete as a two-time World’s Strongest Man under 105kg (2018-2019), took on the Arnold Pro Circuit, and appeared on Clash on the Coast on ESPN and Titan Games ( check it out https://youtu.be/Cm5jVliHMTg?si=6TV5cQj8IaLdIWnR) . These experiences not only pushed me physically and mentally, but also deepened my understanding of human performance.

Along the way, I also built solid clinical experience as an athletic training student, working with Division 1 lacrosse, women’s soccer, and high school sports teams. This hands-on work showed me the real challenges athletes face—from injury prevention to recovery. It also allowed me to blend my inherent skills and strength conditioning expertise with my new education. I’ve learned that human physiology is all about patterns—until it isn’t—and recognizing those patterns is key in both rehab and performance training. Believe me, I know the hard way: I’ve had a total knee replacement, torn my bicep, dealt with spondylosis, herniated discs, arthritic elbows, and even chopped off my own toe! I pushed my body to its limits and learned lessons that now shape my approach to smart, holistic strength conditioning.

Now, I’m almost finished with my master’s in athletic training (I already have a master’s in sports administration), and I’m excited to blend my on-field experiences with academic insights to help others.

Checkpoint: Prepare for rambling

I was diagnosed with severe ADHD later in life, which means my thoughts can jump around a lot. Instead of fighting it, I’m learning to use that energy to share ideas as they come. I rely on voice-to-text to keep things natural, so you might notice a few shifts in topic—that’s just how my brain works. I’m not here to serve up polished, one-size-fits-all advice. Instead, I aim to have honest conversations about fitness, rehab, and everything in between. I hope you’ll jump in, share your thoughts, or just hang out and read along.

Why do I care?

I care deeply about doing things the right way in the fitness and rehab space—a message that might be polarizing, but it’s how I feel. Too often, quick fixes and overpriced services are peddled without truly helping anyone. I believe in upholding ethics and morals; if you’re in this field, you’re here to help others, not just chase the almighty dollar. I’ve seen too many people get ripped off, and I’m not about that. With over 20 years in physical fitness and solid clinical experience, I’m here to share what I’ve learned and help you cut through the misinformation.

What Can You Expect Here

This blog isn’t a perfectly organized course—it’s more like an ongoing conversation. Here’s what you’ll find:

• A mix of nerdy insights and practical advice: I’ll share everything from research-based tips to personal stories.

• Humor and real talk: Expect analogies, a bit of humor, and plenty of honest conversation.

• Free education: Yes, I do have an app called Strengthlete that I own and offer for training, but this blog isn’t about selling you anything. It’s about providing you with valuable, free information.

• Transparency: I believe in doing good for people. I’m upfront about my experiences and the lessons I’ve learned, and I’m here to help you make informed decisions about your health and performance.

Thanks for joining me on this journey. I’m excited to share what I’ve learned and build a community where we can all learn, grow, and push ourselves to be better—together.

— Anthony Furman CSCS, PES

The Weight of Progress: Strongman’s Path Forward?

My name is Anthony Fuhrman, and for those who don’t know me, I am a two-time World’s Strongest Man (105kg) champion. My career in strongman has been a journey filled with incredible highs and devastating lows. I retired from the sport as an athlete at the age of 34, following a total knee replacement. During my competitive years, I proudly represented the sport on some of its biggest stages. I competed in the Men’s Open Pro at Arnold South Africa, Strongman Champion’s League (SCL) Finland, and was invited to Arnold Brazil before COVID halted the event. I’m also a two-time silver medalist at America’s Strongest Man and appeared on the inaugural episode of NBC's Titan Games.

But my story with strongman isn’t just about my individual achievements. It’s also about trying to change the sport for the better. With Clash on the Coast, we broke the mold, offering high athlete payouts at a time when it was almost unheard of. We covered two nights of athlete hotel stays for many of our shows and brought the sport to primetime television with a live 105kg Clash World Championship on ESPN. It was groundbreaking.

Clash ultimately failed, and I take no small part in that. However, that’s a story for another time. Suffice it to say, there was—and still is—a lot to heal from during that era. The vision and desire to help athletes was always there, but the weight of the obstacles we faced left me drained in ways I couldn’t fully process at the time. I’ll still need more time to fully unpack and share that ordeal.

My departure from strongman wasn’t just about the sport itself. In December 2022, I faced a series of devastating losses that culminated in one of the hardest months of my life. I lost a dear friend to abuse inflicted by a prominent coach within the community, my dog of 15 years passed away, and I underwent a grueling recovery from knee replacement surgery—all within a 30-day span. These events, combined with the backstage politics of the sport and the toxic rumors that spread about me, brought me to my lowest point. I had to make a choice: prioritize my healing or continue on a path that might not leave me here today. I chose life–I chose to heal. I do not tell you this to garner sympathy, but as a matter-of-fact explanation for my sudden departure from the sport, and subsequent wrestling with the nature of my experience within the sport.  

Over the past two years, I have been on a journey to heal my mind, body, and spirit. I’ve worked through my combat PTSD with therapy, moved back home to find the support of my family, and returned to academics to finish my Master’s in Athletic Training. With my Master’s in Sports Administration from the University of Louisville already under my belt, I’ve focused on growth, not just for myself but for the people I hope to serve in the future. I’m actively healing and finally in a place where I can look forward with hope and purpose.

For those who’ve supported me and wondered where I’ve been, I apologize for stepping back without explanation. I needed time to heal and rebuild. But I haven’t forgotten you, and I haven’t forgotten the sport that gave me so much.

Now that we’re caught up, let’s talk about the future of strongman and why I’m writing this. What can we do to grow the sport, support the athletes, and create a future where strongman thrives at every level? It’s time to have that conversation.

Before I go any further, I want to make one thing clear: I’m speaking specifically about the professional level of strongman. This conversation is not about the amateur model—the grassroots shows, the parking lot competitions, and the small-town events that are the beating heart of this sport. Those events are integral to the culture, history, and grit of strongman. They represent everything that makes this sport special, and they should be cherished and preserved.

What I’m addressing here is how we take strongman to the next level professionally. How do we create a sustainable structure that supports the athletes who dedicate their lives to the sport while also growing its reach and influence? Amateur shows are the foundation, but without a strong and viable professional tier, the sport as a whole will struggle to grow.

Strongman has always been a sport of passion, grit, and perseverance. It’s a sport where athletes push themselves beyond their physical and mental limits, often for little more than personal pride and the thrill of competition. But let’s be honest: passion alone cannot sustain a sport. For strongman to grow—not just survive, but thrive—we need to rethink the foundation on which the sport is built.

When I was competing, one of the biggest issues I saw was the financial strain on athletes. Competing at a high level isn’t cheap. Between travel, accommodations, food, recovery, and the equipment required to train, athletes often end up spending far more than they ever earn in prize money. And that’s if there’s even prize money to be earned. For a sport where the athletes are the main attraction, the lack of financial support is staggering.

This raises the big question: Can we create a system where athletes can make a living—or at least cover their expenses—through strongman? To me, this is the key to the sport’s growth. It’s not just about supporting the athletes who are already here. It’s about creating an environment that attracts top-level talent from other disciplines. Imagine the potential if the best lifters, sprinters, or even CrossFit athletes saw strongman as a viable career option. But right now, they don’t, because there’s no sustainable path for most athletes.

The solution, as I see it, lies in collaboration. Athletes need to support each other—not tear each other down. Organizations need to do more than just profit from the athletes; they need to reinvest in them. As for fans and communities? They need to rally behind real change.

One of the most interesting models we could look to for inspiration is the old WWF (now WWE) territory days. Back then, regional wrestling organizations coexisted in a loosely connected ecosystem. They weren’t all trying to crush each other; instead, they focused on building their own territories while occasionally working together to elevate the stars of the sport as a whole. Wrestlers could move between territories, building their careers and fan bases while maintaining the integrity of each promotion.

Imagine if strongman adopted a similar model. What if regional organizations worked together instead of competing against each other? What if there was a shared system to develop athletes, promote events, and showcase talent on larger platforms? Back in those wrestling days, the territories had a shared vision: grow the sport by making stars out of their athletes. Strongman could benefit from this approach. Instead of fractured organizations operating in silos, we could build a cohesive network that allows athletes to thrive while growing the sport’s reach.

This isn’t just about competition structures or marketing. It’s about recognizing that the strength of the sport lies in the athletes and the stories they tell. People connect with stories. They’re inspired by athletes overcoming the odds, pushing boundaries, and achieving the impossible. Wrestling thrived because it made its stars larger than life. Strongman can do the same—if we focus on the athletes and give them the platforms they deserve.

To be clear, this isn’t about recreating the drama of professional wrestling. It’s about taking the best elements of that system—the collaboration, the focus on talent, and the shared vision—and applying them to strongman. The sport needs unity, not infighting. It needs organizations to work together to create something bigger than themselves.

I’m writing this not as someone with all the answers, but as someone who deeply cares about the future of this sport. Strongman gave me so much. It taught me resilience, discipline, and the power of community. But strongman also showed me its flaws—the cracks in the foundation that are holding it back.

If we truly want strongman to grow—if we want it to thrive as a professional sport—we have to start by addressing the foundational issues regarding top tier athletes and their treatment. Collaboration, respect, and shared vision aren’t just lofty ideals; they’re necessities for creating a sustainable future. The sport will only succeed when the athletes, promoters, organizations, and fans come together with a unified purpose: to build something that benefits everyone involved.

But this isn’t something I can solve alone, nor should I. The future of strongman depends on all of us having an open, fear-free discourse about how to help the sport grow. We need to ask the hard questions and invite honest, constructive feedback.

What do you think? How can we create a system that works for everyone? What ideas do you have to make strongman a sport that thrives at every level? Until we start discussing these things openly, progress will be slow. Let’s share ideas, challenge assumptions, and work together to build a sport that reflects the strength and passion of its athletes and fans.

The first step is starting the conversation. Now, it’s your turn—what’s your vision for the future of strongman?