Garage University

Muddy protein shake full of exploding chunks of chalky powder hit your sleepy and confused face as you wake before sunset.  Most mornings, you are confused why you cut your dream world early for training.  Some days, you don't know why you train at all.  Some days, sleeping in sounds so nice.  Quiet as a mouse, almost as if your house was waking from a good night sleep as well, this cold morning needs life, and the sound of dripping coffee creates the first few sparks.  The background noise from the morning news makes you feel less home sick, even though it's been forever since you lived under your parent's roof.  Just the thought of how many polar bears must be roaming throughout your garage makes you grab your coffee early and begin chugging.  Hello world. Good morning training.  A scruffy face and a dirty white sweat suite only says one thing.... Gladiator.  A gladiator who will soon do something most people would run from, wouldn't imagine doing, would call you a freak and freak you are.  I'm not there with you, but I am.  I'm not there right now, but I have been.  Self motivation is a sport of its own, a beast that is hard to take down alone.  Lonely as fuck, beat to crap, and for some messed up reason, a single tear will drop for no apparent reason.  But let me ask you something, if that tear drops, will it make a splash?  When that PR goes down, will it make a noise?  Yes it will, yes it mother f'n will.

No teammates to push you, just the sound of the garage door opening and Klokov yelling through YouTube.  No coach to make sure you show up on time, but you are always 5 minutes early. Open your garage for cool air, because the air in this garage is sticky and heavy.  A heavy soul with heavy weights. Heavy thoughts weigh you down, only 'til you slam them fuckers down.  Standing outside on your driveway scares your neighbors, yes, yes it does.  You're that guy, you're the freak and you welcome it, if you don't you should.  I welcome it, we welcome it.  Tired of trying to fit in, tired of trying to become someone you're not, so now you do what the fuck you want to do, and pouring coffee over your head and smashing coffee cups at 6 am is what we love to do. Creating our own fight club on ourselves.  Training with Brad Pit can cause seruise wounds, but huge gains.   Dirty weights make for better weights.  Rusty bars make for more PR's, and Bob and Jill driving by in disgust means they must be late for their white sheep meeting.  I don't accept.  Do you people here me?  I will not! "I'm going to show you how great I am." "The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place, and I don't care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, and nobody is going to hit harder than life. It ain't about hard you hit, it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward, how much you can take and keep moving forward. That's HOW WINNING IS DONE!"  Let the rust from the bar harden your hands making your hook grip sharper than Hook himself.  You don't like me, good....I don't like you.  This is my gym, and your not welcome.  My rules, my program, my technique, my life.  Get your degree in sports science, ill get mine from the smell of fire wood pilled high like sand bags around my platform. Blood and dirt baby, blood and fucken dirt.

I train in a fancy gym, fully sponsored, paid, worked on, waited on....... I can't tell you how many times I miss and wish I could go back to being the garage warrior.  The rough tough son of a bitch that needs no one but heavy metal rock music, energy drinks, and a fucken bar.  Give me a bar and I'm a dog with a bone.  I don't want a pencil, I want a bar, I want happiness.  Our garage is dark, but we see fine, better yet we see better, better yet we like it dark because light makes us weak.  We like pain because pain makes us feel alive.  Weightlifting pain takes away some of the internal pain, pain where the demons live, pain that bangs against these black keys, pain I call, we call, the Dark Orchestra.  Turn up the music and keep training, never stop.  I salute you. You...... the garage lifter who slams bars when no one is watching.  I salute you, who completes your last few drop sets, the last rep, the last few squats.  You, the crazy son of a bitch who completes the full workout that you gave yourself!  I know how hard you train because I was there.  We are family, we came from the same class.  We come from the garage.  We live in the dark and eat dirt.  We come from the outcast university.  We come from F report cards and meth pipes.  We graduated from early morning and nasty protein shakes, and a world of pain and hell that only makes us appreciate peace and family even more.  So just know next time you see me training with my shiny bar and fancy weights, I truly truly envy you, wish I was training with you, and absolutely respect the shit out of you.  I salute you, I salute the garage lifter.

Attitude Nation Straps are finally out! Choose from many different colors and two different styles.  Its been a long time in the making to produce perfect straps, and we finally nailed it!  Made by SLAM BARS KILL PR's! 

www.Theattitudenation.com

Blood & Dirt 2016