We are lifters of Iron & Stone.
While the world becomes soft and seeks convenience in every aspect of life, we choose a different path. A path that leads us to lift crass implements made of iron and stone in dusty garages, musty basements, rainy backyards, and chalk filled training facilities. We prefer this over a gym with shiny machines, tanning beds, televisions, and free bagels.
We wear our bruises and cuts proudly. We smile at the look of bewilderment on a co-worker's face when he sees the atlas stone kiss on our forearms. We joke about the limp we have following heavy squats or yoke.
With popped capillaries in our eyes and a few ibuprofen, we show up to train and gladly put ourselves through it again.
On social media, it's easy to get the idea that there are many of us out there, but the truth is that we are the minority. Most leave work to only sit on a couch, most sleep in, and most stop doing an activity and see a doctor after tendinitis sets in. We are but a small community.
We are fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, white collars, blue collars, office workers, laborers, engineers, mechanics, truck drivers, doctors, metal workers, strongmen, powerlifters, throwers, weightlifters.
WE ARE LIFTERS OF IRON & STONE.