Saturday, 4 April 2015

Beginnings. Redux.

In 2010, I quit.

The concept of being in great condition was a thing of the past, the idea of being in 'cover model shape' was a stupid idea from way back when. 
I was just grateful that my new job kept me in 'okay' shape (read- 'not fat') and consigned to regretting that I didn't try harder when I had unlimited gym access, nil responsibilities and all the time in the world.

Things were different now, 90 hour weeks as standard, on the road up and down the country every few days, out of the door at 5am not back until 10pm (if I even made it back) exhausting labour, out in the elements all day. My 'diet' consisted solely of whatever I could cook using just a kettle in a travelodge. That's if I had the energy to 'cook' after a 16 hour day. Ronald McDonald became my new personal chef.

Fast forward. In 2012, after working on the Olympics for two years, I took the first steps into what became a very odd adventure. I made the decision to change, to get back to where I was. Better, in fact; if I could. Whatever it took, wherever it took me, I was going to become the best version of myself possible.
I began earnestly, 100 push ups in a hotel room of an evening, a jog down to the nearest park to throw in some pull ups. Handstand push ups. Sprints. Lunges. Basics.
But soon I began to realise, I could make this work for me... Like, really 'work', if I could be smart enough to adapt to any environment I found myself in, if I could identify the movements that carry over well wherever you are, I could be in better shape than ever...

[Charles Moriarty Photography]

The Nomad Way

I began creating fast and relentless circuits, utilising explosive calisthenic movements, bits of weights I'd managed to scrape together and any object I could get my hands on. Gifts from nature. Wherever you are, if you develop a keen eye and broaden your horizons, you'll always find *something* that wants to be squatted, pressed, lunged, pulled and tossed mercilessly. 

I deadlifted and ran sprints at 5am on sandy beaches in southport, I climbed into welsh quarries at 10pm to flip tyres and drag chains until my lungs were burning. I became obsessed with finding the perfect log in Sherwood Forest to hoist and press for reps. I got so lost in the process that the results came organically. People wanted to take my photo, people wanted to train with me, to ask me for tips and programming, to know where I found my motivation.
When I was 20 with all the time in the world, becoming a men's 'fitness' model seemed pretty improbable, so I gave up, and delayed an incredible adventure, a process that was worth it whatever the end result. 



I couldn't see the woods for the trees, now you can't get me out of the forest. That's where all the best weights are.

So as I travel around, plundering the earth of it's resources for reps, refining my nomadic conditioning confidently, pushing and pulling pirate-style, join the journey and take away anything you can. We're all members of the biggest gym there is, Mother Nature- let's spot each other.

Peace out, AT.






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