Twenty plus years ago I had one of the original hardcore, underground, warehouse-style training facilities. Renegade Gym. The music was loud and angry. The attitude was pure ruthless aggression. The floor, covered with chalk. The walls with blood. The closet doors had holes in them. Some from a headbutt before a new PR attempt. Others from the many scuffles that broke out during an intense squat day. This was not a place you came to “exercise,” or “work out.” You came to train. continue reading.