In this episode of the Shawn Ryan Show, Eric Frohardt shares his journey from an Iowa farm to becoming a DEVGRU Gold Squadron sniper and assaulter. Frohardt discusses how his upbringing instilled the discipline and work ethic that carried him through BUD/S training and multiple combat deployments, emphasizing that mental resilience matters more than physical metrics in SEAL selection. He recounts close-quarters combat operations in Iraq and Afghanistan, including firefights, IED blasts, and the loss of teammates that shaped his perspective on service and sacrifice.
Beyond his military career, Frohardt reflects on his faith journey—from compartmentalizing his beliefs during service to embracing daily spiritual practices that transformed his civilian life. He addresses the challenges of transitioning out of the military after a medical discharge, including identity struggles and financial instability, before finding success in entrepreneurial ventures and corporate leadership roles. Throughout, Frohardt offers perspective on leadership, teamwork, and translating military operational principles into civilian contexts.

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Eric Frohardt grows up on an 800-acre farm in Sac City, Iowa, where the demanding year-round work—particularly hog farming—instills discipline, accountability, and a relentless work ethic. His childhood includes farm chores, sports, and making his own fun with four-wheelers and dirt bikes. Frohardt credits his calm mother, a nurse who manages family meals and emotional support, for teaching him stress management, while his imposing father provides lessons in relentless energy and physical strength. Growing up in a small town where his SEAL training becomes public knowledge—his parents see congratulatory messages on the bank's digital sign during Hell Week—adds extra motivation to succeed.
After failing to achieve Division I football goals at junior college, Frohardt impulsively announces his intent to become a SEAL while watching "G.I. Jane." When a friend scoffs at the idea, this challenge hardens his resolve, and he enlists the next day. He prepares meticulously, converting his family's barn into a training center and following a rigorous workout regime. Initially joining for self-focused reasons, Frohardt's purpose shifts after 9/11, when he's deployed in Guam and watches the attacks unfold, transforming his missions into defending America.
Frohardt is one of only 19 originals to graduate from BUD/S Class 225 out of approximately 160-180 candidates. He notes that successful candidates often don't look extraordinary on paper—he never tops any physical event but remains consistently in the upper tier. His greatest challenge comes during Hell Week when he endures an undiagnosed kidney stone and laxative-induced diarrhea, yet persists through excruciating pain. Frohardt's experience reveals that mental resilience, humility, willingness to do what's necessary, and clarity of purpose determine success far more than athletic pedigree or physical rankings.
Assigned to SEAL Team Five, known for its laid-back surf culture, Frohardt trains in STT before joining a platoon mid-workup and deploying to Kuwait after 9/11, where he becomes the lead climber on non-compliant ship boardings. After his first deployment, he attends sniper school, where despite suffering from an undiagnosed kidney stone and being on painkillers, he scores highest on an unknown distance test, demonstrating natural marksmanship talent. During this period, Frohardt meets Leah, a fellow Midwesterner, and they marry before his second deployment, building a marriage that endures 24 years of military life, multiple deployments, and raising three children.
After kidney surgery delays his screening, Frohardt spends 18 months instructing and refining his close-quarters battle skills while networking during Shaw's trips—joint training exercises with East Coast and Development Group teams. He emphasizes that at Development Group, operators "rent" positions daily and must continuously earn their place through performance. The best operators combine exceptional skill with relentless humility and obsession with improvement, recognizing that even elite performance can be surpassed without constant vigilance and training.
On Super Bowl Sunday 2008, Frohardt's team receives a last-minute call about a high-value target. As they split into three assault teams, intelligence warns of suicide vests with shoulder-mounted initiators. Frohardt confronts a man with a suicide vest and AK-47 at extremely close range, engaging him with headshots to avoid detonating the vest. Moving inside while straddling the unexploded body, he faces another barricaded combatant in a close-range firefight, experiencing a neurological phenomenon where auditory perception faded and focus narrowed entirely to sight and fine motor skills. Meanwhile, teammates Mike Koch and Nate Lower are killed in a similar close-range ambush in a different room, with two more teammates injured in the courtyard—four casualties total.
Days after Super Bowl Sunday, Louis Saffrant approaches Frohardt with questions about his Christian faith. Frohardt admits he hesitated, not fully sharing what he believed—a decision he deeply regrets. Shortly after, during an assault when Saffrant was filling in at the last minute, the targeted building exploded from a house-borne IED, instantly killing him. The massive blast threw Frohardt 30 feet into a wall, leaving him severely concussed and requiring medevac. Other teammates suffered grave injuries including shattered femurs and pelvis. Frohardt reflects that his only true regret from these years was not sharing his faith with Saffrant, realizing he needed to witness his experience rather than act like a theology expert.
Just hours after learning from his wife that they're expecting a girl and choosing the name Daisy, Frohardt enters combat in Helmand province. While taking a knee to spot shooters, an AK round whizzes so close it clips hair protruding from his helmet. The near-death experience, especially so soon after his conversation about fatherhood, leaves him reeling and nauseous, acutely realizing how close he came to never meeting his daughter.
Frohardt is hit by IEDs three separate times while serving with the Development Group, with the worst being the house-borne explosion that killed Saffrant. The cumulative impact of battlefield trauma—grenades, firefights, and high-altitude parachute jumps—likely caused traumatic brain injuries that would ultimately affect his neurological health and contribute to his discharge from service.
During his SEAL service, Frohardt compartmentalizes his faith, attending church and wearing a cross but not actively expressing religious conviction among teammates. While demonstrating physical bravery facing al-Qaeda, he admits to being afraid to speak about his faith, fearing he didn't have all the theological answers. A pastor eventually tells him he need not be a theologian but simply a witness to his own experience—a lesson that underscores his regrets about not having spoken more openly. He carries the sorrow of possibly leaving his teammates behind, hoping he "either taught them or showed them enough."
Frohardt's faith journey takes a pivotal turn in 2012 after his military career when he becomes involved with a faith-based business networking group in Denver. The group encourages tactical practices—reading the Bible, praying, and journaling—which Frohardt commits to for a month, extending into years of daily practice. Every morning from five to six a.m., he spends an hour in stillness, silence, and solitude, followed by a workout and "walking prayer" covering his relationship with God, gratitude, and petitions for loved ones, colleagues, and his country.
Frohardt finds this daily discipline transforms every aspect of life. Although requiring at least an hour each morning, he feels the energy, clarity, and focus acquired far exceed the time investment, describing benefits as a "threefold to sevenfold" return. He credits his consistent spiritual routine with protecting his mental health, citing freedom from PTSD, nightmares, and brain fog common among veterans.
Reflecting on his SEAL career, Frohardt regrets not promoting more faith integration and spiritual fellowship among fellow Development Group operators. He laments that the prevailing culture discouraged open religious discussion, causing isolation and missed opportunities for mutual encouragement. He's convinced that overt spiritual engagement could have improved both individual performance and group cohesion, and perhaps helped teammates avoid some post-service struggles.
Frohardt's medical challenges began at the end of bootcamp when extreme side pain was misdiagnosed as IBS. The real cause—a blocked kidney due to scar tissue in the ureter—remained undetected through repeated episodes during BUD/S Hell Week, sniper school, and Team 5 training. Each time he was hospitalized on painkillers but received no correct diagnosis.
In 2002, after four days of unbearable pain during land warfare training, an X-ray revealed a giant stuck kidney stone and scar tissue. The kidney was non-functional and swollen like a "water balloon," requiring an arduous eight-hour surgery to extract. While recovering on [restricted term], a corpsman presented a waiver: signing allowed him to stay in the military, while refusing meant medical discharge. Desperate to continue his career, Frohardt signed, not realizing its full implications.
The waiver classified Frohardt as non-deployable, yet he was cleared for four additional combat deployments with DEVGRU. The bureaucratic oversight persisted until a Purple Heart paperwork review triggered discovery of the error. Eventually, the medical board revoked his deployment eligibility, offering shore duty or medical retirement. Frohardt, uninterested in stateside teaching with fewer than fifteen years of service, chose separation in 2009. The timing was abrupt—pulled from deployment training with only six months until his End of Active Obligated Service, forcing him to leave the Navy quickly.
Frohardt describes his transition as the hardest period of his life, more difficult than any combat injury. He recounts 18 months without stable income, cycling through consulting, teaching, and security roles. This financial instability compounded a deep identity crisis—for years, his self-worth had been rooted in being a Navy SEAL, and suddenly he was just another dad at Target. He emphasizes how his SEAL identity overwhelmed other aspects of life, ranking it above being a husband, father, or Christian, creating a "spiritual void" when that identity evaporated.
After struggling through initial post-military years, Frohardt began a transformation rooted in faith and family. The adoption of daily spiritual practice—mornings of prayer, scripture, and journaling—stabilized his sense of self, clarifying that true fulfillment came not from status or achievement but from faith. He reflects that perhaps his combat injuries and resulting life changes were part of God's plan, allowing him to avoid the more common outcome of divorce in his field.
Frohardt's first major civilian venture was a gun range in Denver, which he and a partner built with investor capital, eventually employing 40 to 50 people. Despite initial success, he recognized the need for single leadership and the geographic constraints of the business, eventually resigning. He then joined StrongFirst, founded by Pavel Tsatsouline, the leading advocate for kettlebell training. Frohardt led headquarters operations remotely, managing 4,000 instructors across 30 countries and expanding the methodology internationally.
Frohardt's expertise caught the NRA's attention, leading him to consult on updating their concealed carry curriculum and eventually run their education and training department, commuting from Denver to Virginia for three years before departing in 2020. Alongside these ventures, he discovered a passion for speaking beginning in 2012, focusing on leadership, teamwork, and translating SEAL principles into lessons for corporate, sports, and faith-based audiences.
Frohardt's current role is Chief Standards Officer at Goldenrod Companies, a founder-led real estate firm in Omaha. Rather than engaging in direct operations, he implements consistent standards and operational practices across business lines, applying military operational principles—clarity, discipline, teamwork—to civilian business environments. His post-military career—spanning fitness, firearms, teaching, consulting, and real estate—proves that operational excellence, leadership, and teamwork are skills transferable across industries.
1-Page Summary
Eric Frohardt grows up in Sac City, Iowa, on a farm spanning up to 800 acres of corn and soybeans, plus hogs. He describes the farm work as hard, unglamorous, and year-round, especially the demands of hog farming. His daily life as a child and teenager includes chores, farm labor, and playing outside, often making his own fun with four-wheelers, dirt bikes, and makeshift projects. This upbringing instills discipline, accountability, and a relentless work ethic. If the hogs escape, for example, it’s Frohardt’s job to own the mistake and fix it. He also notes his father's imposing presence—nearly 6’5” and 350 pounds—instilled respect and a readiness to handle pressure.
Frohardt’s summers are packed from a young age: morning swim practice, farm work all day, and baseball practice or games at night. In high school, he focuses on football, weightlifting, and more farm chores, further strengthening his body and work ethic. He often completes challenging tasks, like running between farm sites in boots after a full day’s work. Farm life demands grit, resilience, and physical toughness; Frohardt later finds that some days on the farm are harder than SEAL training.
Frohardt credits his calm and loving mother, who juggles nursing shifts with attentive care for family meals and emotional support, for teaching him how to stay composed under stress—a crucial trait for his SEAL career. From his father, he learns relentless energy, physical strength, and playful engagement, balanced with discipline and accountability.
Growing up in a small town, Frohardt feels pressured to succeed because his progress through SEAL training is public knowledge—his parents see congratulatory messages on the bank’s digital sign during Hell Week. Frohardt is driven not to disappoint his community or return home as a failure; the visibility of his ambitions becomes extra motivation to see training through.
Frohardt aspires to play Division I football but faces reality at junior college: his size and ability are outmatched by others. Despite bulking up and learning the value of teamwork, perseverance, and loss from football, he recognizes he won’t achieve his gridiron dreams. One night, watching "G.I. Jane" with friends, he impulsively announces his intent to become a SEAL. When a friend scoffs, doubting his ability, this challenge hardens Frohardt’s resolve, and he enlists in the Navy the next day on a delayed entry program.
Determined to be ready, Frohardt meticulously follows a Navy recruiter’s printed workout regime, modifying his family's barn into a training center with improvised pull-up and dip bars. His summer before bootcamp is purpose-driven—swimming up to two miles each morning, running up to six miles in farm boots, and maintaining farm chores throughout the day. By the time he ships off for Navy bootcamp in October, he is in peak physical condition.
Frohardt initially has self-focused reasons for joining the SEALs, wanting to prove himself. On September 11, 2001, deployed in Guam, he watches the attacks unfold on TV, and the environment instantly shifts from prewar levity to war footing. Replacing Team 3 in Kuwait, his missions after 9/11 become about defending America, and the purpose and seriousness of his work deepen.
While beginning BUD/S, Frohardt has never swum in the ocean and is unfamiliar with the salt, cold water, and surf—he humorously recalls expecting the experience to resemble "Baywatch." Out of approximately 160-180 candidates in his class, only 19 originals graduate. Frohardt notes that successful candidates often don’t look or seem extraordinary on paper. He never tops any physical event but is consistently among the upper tier, benefitting from the farm-honed grip strength and work capacity.
Hell Week is the crucible: Frohardt suffers severe abdominal pain—later confirmed as a kidney stone—and, after receiving laxatives from medics, endures days of diarrhea. Despite excruciating pain and the physical toll, he persists, pushing through misery with determination. At the end of Hell Week, he loses both big toenails as a "parting gift," a final insult to injury.
Frohardt’s experience reveals that no amount of athletic pedigree or appearance predicts BUD/S success. The real determinant is mental resilience, humility, the willingness to do what’s necessary, and the clarity of one’s purpose. Those driven by internal motivation, able to bounce back from adversity, and committed to the mission are the ones who make it through the relentless demands.
Assigned first to SEAL Team Five—known for a laid-back, surf culture—Frohardt participates in a unique blend of autonomy, camaraderie, and adventure, including volleyball, longboard skateboards, and friendly atmosphere. Initially intending to serve with an East Coast team, he quickly comes to cherish Team Five. He trains in STT (SEAL Tactical Training), then joins a platoon mid-workup after injuries move up his timeline. He deploys to Guam right before 9/11, and then soon after to Kuwait, becoming the lead climber on non-compliant ship boardings—often climbing caving ladders up freighters steaming through dark waters, sometimes under highly risky conditions.
After his first deployment, Frohardt returns and is immediately sent to sniper school. During an undiagnosed kidney stone flare- ...
Military Training and Seal Career: From Farm to Buds, Team Five, and Development Group Operations
Eric Frohardt recounts several harrowing combat deployments in Iraq and Afghanistan, marked by sudden firefights, traumatic losses, brush-with-death moments, and the enduring consequences of brain injuries from IEDs and battlefield explosions.
On Super Bowl Sunday, 2008, Frohardt and his team believed they'd have the night off, as pilots claimed the helicopters were down for maintenance, but suddenly got a last-minute call about a high-value target in their sector. The team split into three small assault teams to simultaneously hit three buildings roughly 100 yards apart. Frohardt was positioned outside the building he was assigned to lead his team into.
As Eddie and Dom's team approached their building, the moonlight likely exposed them, causing insurgents to run outside, attempting to detonate themselves with suicide vests. Frohardt notes intelligence warned of suicide vests—there were about 15 of them, and the initiators were positioned on the shoulder so attackers could still detonate even with hands up, feigning compliance.
Holding his position by the door, Frohardt heard gunfire and the ground-shaking explosions of three or four suicide vests. Over the radio, a team leader confirmed, "shots fired, shots fired, suicide vest, be careful." Frohardt describes confronting a man with a suicide vest and an AK-47 just steps away—so close that letting him flee or not engaging would have risked their lives. Notably, a suicide vest detonating inside the building would inflict even greater devastation due to the reverberations and concussive effects.
Frohardt, acting on instinct and training that called for headshots to avoid detonating the vest, engaged the attacker and brought him down. Moving inside, he had to straddle the body—whose unexploded vest would later be found to have malfunctioned—while carefully clearing a corner-fed room. As he advanced, another barricaded combatant opened fire at extremely close range.
Frohardt recounts a powerful neurological phenomenon in that firefight: after registering the first three or four shots, his auditory perception faded, and he focused entirely on sight and fine motor skills—characteristic of how the brain reallocates cognitive resources during extreme stress. He managed to fire back while running the wall and shot the barricaded shooter. Only later did they realize the attacker's suicide vest had failed to detonate, a malfunction that spared both Frohardt's life and those of his teammates.
Within minutes, tragedy struck elsewhere: teammates Mike Koch and Nate Lower, entering a different room, were killed in a similar close-range ambush, receiving fatal gunshots through vulnerabilities in their gear. Two more teammates were shot in the courtyard, bringing the toll to four casualties—two dead and two injured.
Frohardt describes the aftermath of the firefight, expending nearly all his ammunition to cover the recovery of bodies. He vividly recalls zipping Mike's body bag and moving his fallen friends to the helicopter, returning to base knowing two friends had been lost. The team held a somber Irish wake that morning.
A few days after Super Bowl Sunday, before the next catastrophic mission, Louis Saffrant approached Frohardt, knowing about his Christian faith and asking probing questions about his beliefs. Frohardt admits he hesitated, not fully sharing what he believed and why—regretting in hindsight that he failed to witness his faith while there was still time.
Shortly after, during an assault when Saffrant was filling in for someone else at the last minute, the targeted building suddenly exploded from a house-borne IED. The massive blast collapsed the concrete roof, instantly killing Saffrant. The overpressure from the blast blew Frohardt—who was standing by a window—about 30 feet away, slamming him into a wall and leaving him concussed. This concussion was so severe he couldn't stand and had to be medevacked for a CAT scan. Other teammates suffered grave injuries: the dog handler had both femurs fractured, another operator had a shattered pelvis, and others experienced broken limbs.
Frohardt was the only one in the team not physically injured by debris, but he was left with a deep sense of regret. He reflects that his only t ...
Combat Operations and Close Calls: Missions, Firefights, Ied Injuries, Losses, and Near-Death Experiences
During his Navy SEAL service, Eric Frohardt compartmentalizes his faith, attending church and wearing a cross but not actively expressing religious conviction among his teammates. While he demonstrates physical bravery facing al-Qaeda, he admits to being afraid to speak about his faith, even though he would have been willing to die in place of non-believing teammates, hoping they would find faith in time. Frohardt’s reluctance stems from a fear of not having all the theological answers and overthinking the act of sharing. He often changes the subject when spiritual discussions arise, later regretting what he calls “spiritual cowardice.” Physical courage, he says, overshadowed his confidence to share faith, despite the eternal significance he places on it. A pastor eventually tells Frohardt he need not be a theologian but simply a witness to his own experience—a lesson that underscores his regrets about not having spoken more openly. He carries the sorrow of possibly leaving his teammates behind, hoping he “either taught them or showed them enough,” while knowing he missed opportunities for deeper witness.
Frohardt’s faith journey takes a pivotal turn in 2012 after his military career. He becomes involved with a faith-based business networking group in Denver, where the concept of “abiding”—remaining close to God through daily disciplines—becomes central. The group encourages tactical practices: reading the Bible, praying, and journaling. Frohardt commits to these spiritual exercises for a month, which extend into two months, then a year, and ultimately become a daily practice sustained for over a decade.
His morning discipline includes Bible reading (cover to cover annually, with deeper studies of the Old and New Testaments in certain years), prayer, and journaling to unburden his thoughts. Every morning, from about five to six a.m., he spends an hour in stillness, silence, and solitude for “giving God the first hour of my day.” This is followed by a workout and a “walking prayer,” where he prays in his head, thanking God for blessings and interceding for loved ones, colleagues, his country, church, and even his fitness and hobbies. The order and depth of his prayers are intentional, covering his relationship with God, repentance, gratitude, and petitions for wisdom, guidance, and the well-being of others.
Frohardt finds that this daily spiritual discipline transforms every aspect of life. Although it requires at least an hour each morning, he feels the energy, clarity, and focus acquired in return far exceed the time investment, describing the benefits as a “threefold to sevenfold” return—sometimes even higher. He claims this foundational hour makes him sharper at work, more resilient in difficulties, and enhances his workouts and overall performance. The practice does not make daily life easy, but it enables him to handle hard things better.
Frohardt credits his consistent spiritual routine with protecting his mental health, citing freedom from PTSD, nightmares, brain fog, and operator stress syndrom ...
Faith Journey and Spiritual Transformation: From Compartmentalization and Fear to Active Practice and Daily Discipline, With Regrets About Not Witnessing To Teammates
Eric Frohardt’s medical challenges began at the end of bootcamp when he experienced extreme pain in his side. Bootcamp doctors misdiagnosed him with irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) and constipation, prescribing laxatives. The pain subsided, but its real cause—a blocked kidney due to scar tissue in the ureter—remained undetected.
During BUD/S Hell Week, the side pain struck again. Exposed to cold, hosed with water, and enduring hypothermia, Frohardt was again given laxatives. This led to severe diarrhea and further misery amidst intense physical exhaustion. The pain did not abate and Frohardt recalls enduring “a shitty time” with repeated misdiagnosis while experiencing kidney stone symptoms.
Similar pain episodes recurred through his career: once during sniper school and again during SEAL Team 5 land warfare training. Each time, the pain was intense and debilitating, but the underlying kidney stone remained undiagnosed. He spent nights hospitalized on painkillers like [restricted term], yet received no correct diagnosis. Frohardt later recognized all these bouts as symptoms caused by an undiagnosed kidney stone that, due to the scarred ureter, would ultimately cost him his kidney.
In 2002, while at Fort Chaffee for land warfare training, the pain became constant and unbearable, lasting four days without any relief. Despite trying to "suck it up" and continue training, dehydration and agony forced him to alert his superiors. His officer in charge, whose stepfather was a local urologist, took Frohardt for evaluation. An X-ray revealed a stuck giant kidney stone and scar tissue in his ureter.
Initially, Frohardt received a stent and underwent procedures to remove the stone. However, further evaluation back at Balboa revealed that the kidney itself was non-functional, swollen to the point of being a “water balloon.” Doctors performed an arduous eight-hour surgery—almost needing to remove a rib for access—to safely extract the dangerously distended kidney.
After surgery, Frohardt was told that loss of a kidney essentially meant he was out of the military, since kidney loss is generally not waivable for special operations. While still recovering and under the influence of [restricted term], a corpsman presented him with a waiver: signing it would allow him to stay in the military, while refusing meant medical discharge. Desperate to continue his career and deploy again, Frohardt signed the waiver, not realizing its full implications.
Unbeknownst to Frohardt, the waiver he signed classified him as non-deployable. Despite this, he was cleared for four additional combat deployments with the Navy’s Tier 1 special operations unit, DEVGRU (Development Group).
The bureaucratic oversight persisted until Frohardt was wounded in action and his Purple Heart paperwork triggered a medical review. The Bureau of Navy Medicine discov ...
Medical Challenges and Retirement: Undiagnosed Kidney Stone, Kidney Loss, Waiver Issues, Forced Military Discharge
Eric Frohardt’s journey from military service to civilian life spans profound personal transformation, entrepreneurial ventures, leadership in corporate settings, and a passion for building culture and operational excellence. His story illustrates the challenges of leaving behind the intensity and identity of Navy SEAL service and the discovery of new purpose and meaning across diverse pursuits.
Frohardt describes his transition out of the Navy as the hardest period of his life, more difficult than any combat injury or demanding SEAL experience. Unlike the singular focus of SEAL life, civilian existence brought uncertainty, loss of camaraderie, and an abrupt void where a clear sense of mission once existed. He recounts 18 months without a stable paycheck, cycling through consulting jobs, teaching, security roles, and adjunct instructor gigs. This financial instability compounded a deep identity crisis; for years, his self-worth had been rooted in being a Navy SEAL, and that status carried instant recognition. Suddenly, he was just another dad at Target, buying diapers.
He emphasizes how much his SEAL identity overwhelmed other aspects of his life, ranking it above being a husband, father, or Christian. The evaporation of this professional identity, team bonding, and mission-oriented existence created what he calls a “spiritual void.” Frohardt recalls the isolation and the sense that, without his team, job, or clear purpose, he was unmoored, forced to reconstruct himself from the ground up.
After struggling through the initial post-military years, Frohardt began a transformation rooted in faith and family. He relates how, during his military years, balancing the demands of SEAL deployments and being present as a husband and father was a constant challenge. At times gone 280 to 300 days a year, he credits his wife for enduring his absences while raising three children in Virginia Beach. He tried to maximize his presence when home, focusing on family rather than socializing, but still saw the toll military life could take. Despite the difficulties and his medical retirement, Frohardt reflects that perhaps his combat injuries and the resulting life changes were part of God’s plan, eventually allowing him to avoid the more common outcome of divorce in his field.
The real shift came with the adoption of a daily spiritual practice—mornings of prayer, time in the Word, and journaling. Though he began this about a year and a half to two years after leaving the military, it stabilized his sense of self, clarifying that true fulfillment came not from status or achievement, but from faith. He describes this as filling a “God-shaped hole.”
Capitalizing on his tactical expertise and connections, Frohardt’s first major civilian venture was a gun range in Denver. Frustrated by existing facilities’ restrictions, a mentor suggested he and his partner raise capital to create their own. They assembled investors, bought a range, and built a business centered around firearms training, retail sales, and rental lanes—the “three-legged stool” model. At its peak, the business employed 40 to 50 people.
Despite initial success, Frohardt realized the need for unified leadership; as one of two partners managing the operation, it became clear the venture required a single dedicated captain. Additionally, the business tied him geographically, unable to work remotely or take vacations freely. Recognizing these limitations, Frohardt eventually resigned and stepped back from daily management.
Frohardt’s next move was into the fitness sphere, joining StrongFirst, founded by Pavel Tsatsouline, the leading advocate for kettlebell training in the West. Frohardt, already familiar with Tsatsouline’s methods from his SEAL days—combining kettlebell, bodyweight, and cardio for demanding deployments and mountaineering—applied to work there after a moment of prayerful clarity.
He led StrongFirst’s headquarters group, overseeing operations remotely before the practice became mainstream. With instructors in 30 countries and events spanning nearly every continent, Frohardt managed 4,000 instructors, expanded instructor networks, and helped license the methodology internationally. This marked a leadership evolution beyond local business, extending his management reach globally.
Simultaneously, Frohardt’s expertise caught the attention of the NRA, where he consulted on updating their concealed carry curriculum. This engagement led to an offer to run the NRA’s education and training department. Drawn by the chance to shape national policy and standards, Frohardt accepted, commuting regularly from Denver to NRA headquarters in Virginia for three years. However, the intense political environment and expectation to relocate eventually made the job untenable. He declined to move his family, and departed the NRA in 2020.
Alongside these ventures, Frohardt discove ...
Transition to Civilian Life: Identity Crisis, Finding Purpose As Husband and Father, Entrepreneurial Ventures (Gun Range, Fitness Training), Corporate Leadership, Speaking On Culture and Teamwork
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