This is not a topic I've spoken on much publicly, but I will address it now, and I hope it serves to inspire those who have yet to get active.
I've had some people contact me who want to know how I survived the attack that left me at Death's door, and the answer is quite simple.
When the incident occurred, I was amongst my brothers who immediately rendered aid and contacted paramedics.
If not for my brothers, the chances of my survival in that situation were very slim.
My carotid artery had been partially severed, and I was bleeding out severely.
The medical staff later confirmed I'd lost more than 5 litres of blood by the time the paramedics had arrived.
The blood I lost was enough to be fatal for most people.
The reason that my carotid was only partially severed was because I had my right fist guarding my face when the attack happened.
"Protect yourself at all times."
"Keep your hands up."
Anyone with any combat experience will understand the importance of these words.
Because the glass bottle made contact with my fist before my head, it shattered even further and sent shrapnel into my neck and throat rather than slice completely through the artery.
The reason I say that the blood loss was enough to kill most people is because most people walk around carrying 5-6 litres of blood or around 7-8% of their bodyweight in blood.
At the time of the incident, I weighed in at 115kg and was around 15-18% BF.
Not only did this larger frame allow me to sufficiently defend myself against two attackers (to the point of causing serious harm to one of them), but it was critical in ensuring my survival.
I had more blood in total and, therefore, more blood to lose before my body gave out.
By the time I awoke in hospital, I had lost 20kg as my body had redirected all its energies to bodily repair and healing.
I tell you this only to say that without the level of training and cultivation of mass that I had committed myself to at the time, the reality is I would not have survived that night.
If I had not been surrounded by my brotherkin but had instead been isolated and atomised, I would be dead.
The moral of this story, if there is one, is that to train and tribe is more than words.
It is a mindset, a community, and a way of life.
Providence helps those that help themselves, and nobody is above Natural Law.
Train & Tribe - it might just save your life.
