The Temple
& The 140kg Pull.
Season 2 of the Mantra Series opens with a structured 1-hour protocol, a clean conventional deadlift PR, and a quiet look around the gym floor at the three groups training inside it. The work continues, in a new register now.
Training has always been the vital, pivotal axis of my life. It's the framework through which I build myself into a better human being. This isn't a narcissistic pursuit — it's a foundational truth. You have to love yourself and respect your own vessel if you ever want to get anything meaningful done in this life.
My heart is filled with nothing but love for the gym and any environment that forces you outside yourself. When you look around the floor, you see the spectrum of human motivation. Some are chasing absolute performance. Others want to look amazing in a mirror. But my deepest respect goes to a third group — and they're the ones nobody talks about.
The three groups on the floor.
Walk into any commercial gym and look around with honest eyes. You'll see the same three categories of people, week after week, training for very different reasons.
Chasing PRs, numbers on the bar, podium spots. The lift is the goal. Tracked, periodised, measured against the next session.
Training to look amazing. The mirror is the metric. Wants the cap, the taper, the silhouette. Nothing wrong with this.
Training to outlive the world because people rely on them. The unspoken third path. Longevity, survival, and obligation as the daily motivation.
I'm talking about the unspoken, uncelebrated, and underappreciated brothers, sisters, uncles, and aunties who had to step up and play the parental role while the actual parents were out grinding to get the bag. The ones who raised siblings while still figuring out how to be a person themselves. The ones who couldn't afford to fall apart because someone smaller was watching them for the blueprint.
They don't train for the mirror. They don't train for the leaderboard. They train for survival, longevity, and duty. Their bodies aren't a hobby — they're the load-bearing wall the household stood on for years. The gym for them isn't a flex. It's maintenance on the only thing they couldn't afford to break.
If that's you — visible or not, on the floor or watching from the sidelines — this season is partly for you.
Group fitness to clueless noob.
I started in the trenches of group fitness classes — learning from energetic instructors who had the ambition to inspire an entire room of strangers simultaneously. That energy got me hooked. Then I transitioned to the main gym floor as an absolute noob, doing random, unstructured nonsense just to see if anything would grow.
With every interaction, every setback, and every year that passed, I passively accumulated experience. I uncovered newfound strength I hadn't gone looking for. At one point I took the ambitious route of becoming a Personal Trainer for two years.
That business failed miserably because my sales skills are complete, unadulterated ass, lol. But looking back, I don't regret a single step. It led me to exactly where I am today: a proudly anti-social lifter who trains purely for his own evolution.
The playground protocols.
Multiple times a week, I step into my local playground and temple. The moment I cross that threshold, I anchor my energy toward getting stronger and letting go of the overthinking bullshit that clutters daily life.
Shout out to the 4014 crew. The regulars. The staff. The people who keep the floor running while the rest of the city is still waking up. This is where Season 2 gets written, one session at a time. A foundational membership built into the foundation of the man.
The gym is the most self-centred place in the world — and it should be. You are there to entertain the stage and improve yourself. There is no room for toxic clout-chasing or trying to impress strangers. Every inch you push or pull, and every injury that forces a setback, serves as a necessary evil reminding you of what needs to be done better next time.
Letting external noise, camera tripods, or social validation dictate your workout. If your phone is recording the rep, your phone is in the rep. Half your focus is gone before the bar even leaves the floor.
Treat the environment like an adult. Keep your head down. Execute your program within a strict 1-hour time constraint to maximise intensity. And respect the OGs who paved the way before you. The veterans on the floor know things the algorithm will never teach you.
The 140kg pull.
Season 2 marks my transition into a hyper-focused, streamlined 1-hour routine designed to optimise progression without wasting a single second of mental bandwidth. In and out. Done with intent. No drift between sets. The protocol respects the time it has.
On Saturday, 16th May 2026, I pulled a lifetime PR of 140kg conventional with zero lower back pain, zero tweaks, and absolute technical control. Conventional stance. Thoracic powerlifter extension. Because of my shorter frame at 5'7", the pull ends up looking relatively stiff-legged — but the leverage is locked down, the bar travels cleanly, and the rep is honest.
For non-lifters: it's a setup where the upper back stays braced flat and extended (rather than rounded over) while the bar travels off the floor. The thoracic spine — your upper-mid back — does the structural work of keeping the load aligned. Done right, the lower back stays neutral and the lift feels safe even under heavy load.
The path forward is clear. Bring the upper-body pushing power up to the standard of the lower-body pull. It will take time, patience, and periodisation. The deadlift took years to reach 140kg cleanly. The bench and OHP will take their own years. Nothing rushed. Nothing forced. Just the protocol, repeated, week after week.
Respect the temple.
Leave the validation loops at the door.
Enjoy the playground. Respect the temple. If you're a kid entering the space, honour the culture left by the veterans. Focus on your internal rig. Push the iron with intent. And leave the validation loops at the door.