You know the smell. That mix of stale sweat, cold iron, and chalk dust that hits you the moment you walk into a real gym. Not the air-conditioned, fern-decorated lobbies of those commercial fitness chains, but the gritty, freezing cold garage gyms where the real work happens. That is the world of Matthew Welch.
In the underground brotherhood of strength sports, names are made in silence. There are no crowds cheering your warm-up sets in a garden shed. There is no one to spot you if you fail a bench press at 11 PM on a Tuesday. There is just you, the bar, and the demons you’re trying to bury. Matthew Welch—known to his legion of followers as the “Tattooed Saiyan”—has carved out a unique space in this industry not by winning gold at the Olympics, but by becoming the archetype of the modern “Garage Gym Athlete.”
He represents something visceral for us. He is the guy who defies limitations, battles personal darkness with heavy iron, and builds championship-level power within the confines of a wooden cabin in the UK. His story isn’t just about moving weight; it’s about moving forward when life tries to pin you down.
Matthew Welch is a testament to the transformative power of the barbell. His journey from a “skinny” kid who was told he had no future in strength sports to a powerhouse capable of moving over 1,100 pounds collectively is a narrative of pure defiance. Whether you are a seasoned powerlifter with calloused hands or someone contemplating buying their first set of dumbbells, Welch’s path offers a blueprint for resilience, consistency, and the relentless, almost obsessive pursuit of self-improvement.
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Key Takeaways
- Defying Expectations: Matthew Welch crushed the early criticism of being “too skinny” and “too weak” to become a legitimate strength athlete.
- The Iron Cabin: He didn’t wait for a gym to open; he built his own 14×9-foot wooden training facility to house his pain and progress.
- Rapid Progression: Through sheer grit, Welch added a staggering 250 pounds to his powerlifting total in just two years.
- Dual Discipline: Refusing to stay in one lane, he actively competes in both powerlifting and strongman, mastering the log press alongside the deadlift.
- Community Leader: He has become a central pillar of the Garage Gym Competition (GGC), proving you can compete globally from your backyard.
Who is the man behind the barbell?
You might expect a guy who deadlifts nearly 500 pounds to have been born a giant. You’d picture him dominating the playground from kindergarten, the kid who had a beard by age twelve. But Matthew Welch shatters that illusion, and honestly, that makes his story infinitely more relatable.
Born and raised in Telford, UK, Welch wasn’t built like a tank. He was the opposite. His early athletic endeavors in rugby and basketball hinted that he could move, sure, but they failed to ignite that deep, burning passion. The narrative surrounding his youth was discouragingly consistent, a broken record that many of us have heard in our own lives: he was “too skinny.” He was “too weak.” He was told, explicitly and implicitly, that he would never make a dent in the world of heavy iron.
How many of us have let those words stop us? How many dreams have died because someone said “you can’t”?
Welch refused to accept that script. He didn’t just ignore the naysayers; he filed their words away as ammunition. His transition wasn’t an overnight explosion of muscle. It was a slow burn. The desire to prove the critics wrong simmered under the surface. He didn’t just want to participate in strength sports; he wanted to dominate them. This psychological drive is the bedrock of his success. It wasn’t about genetics. It wasn’t about “talent.” It was about sheer, unadulterated will. Today, when he steps onto the platform or loads a log for a press, he carries the weight of that early skepticism on his shoulders, pressing it overhead with every single rep.
What drove him into the solitude of the Iron Cabin?
Great strength often emerges from moments of great vulnerability. We like to think of lifting as a purely physical act, but for Matthew Welch, the catalyst wasn’t a desire for trophies or Instagram likes. It was a desperate need for an outlet.
Rewind to 2018. Welch found himself navigating a particularly dark and difficult period in his life. We’ve all been there—when the emotional weight feels heavier than any barbell. The stress was crushing, and he needed a place to release the tension before it consumed him. He wasn’t looking for a six-pack; he was looking for a lifeline.
A friend offered a solution: a simple home gym. It wasn’t much. We’re talking about a punching bag and some beat-up, second-hand dumbbells. But for Welch, it was a sanctuary. It was “Iron Therapy.”
He began training not for vanity, but for survival. And something shifted. The physical exertion provided a mental clarity that nothing else could. The tangible progress of lifting heavier weights gave him a sense of control when life felt chaotic. If you can control the weight, you can control your day.
He set modest targets initially. “Let’s bench press body weight.” “Let’s deadlift double body weight.” As he smashed these goals, the “skinny kid” began to fade away, replaced by a man hungry for the next milestone. This pivotal year transformed him from a casual exerciser into a dedicated strength athlete, proving that often, the barbell is the best therapist money can buy.
How did the “Iron Cabin” come to life?
Most champions train in state-of-the-art facilities. They have heating. They have calibrated plates that cost more than your car. They have smoothie bars.
Matthew Welch built his own coliseum out of wood.
After outgrowing his friend’s garage—literally and metaphorically—he purchased his own property and immediately set to work on a dream project: The Iron Cabin. This wasn’t a prefab shed dropped onto a concrete slab by a contractor. It was a labor of love, a 14x9x9-foot wooden building constructed to withstand the violence of heavy deadlifts and log presses.
Imagine the atmosphere. It smells of timber and sweat. In the winter, it’s freezing, forcing you to move just to stay warm. In the summer, it’s a sweatbox. It is intimate, gritty, and real. It stands as a stark contrast to the sterile, fluorescent-lit environment of a commercial “globo-gym.”
Building this space allowed Welch to eliminate every single excuse. There is no waiting for the squat rack. There is no commute. There are no distractions. It took him two years to fully outfit the cabin with a power rack, a deadlift platform, and the necessary implements for strongman training. This space is a physical manifestation of his dedication. Every beam and bolt represents his commitment to the sport. It challenges us to ask ourselves: what could we achieve if we built our environment around our goals?
What makes his training philosophy unique?
In an era of over-complicated periodization, where people use spreadsheets that look like NASA launch codes, Matthew Welch relies on a tool accessible to everyone: intuition.
He self-programs. That is a risky strategy for many, but it has become a superpower for him. His philosophy revolves around deep introspection and listening to the body’s biofeedback. He calls it “intuitive consistency.”
Welch doesn’t blindly follow a piece of paper. If his central nervous system signals fatigue, he pivots. He doesn’t grind himself into dust just because the spreadsheet says “Squat 5×5.” He emphasizes recovery as much as intensity, understanding that growth happens when you sleep and eat, not just when you lift.
He creates his own programs through trial and error. He treats his training as a scientific experiment where he is both the mad scientist and the lab rat. This autonomy gives him complete ownership of his failures and his victories. If he misses a lift, it’s on him. If he sets a PR, he earned it. It suggests that while coaching is valuable, the ultimate expert on your body is you.
How does a Garage Gym Athlete compete globally?
Competition usually sucks. Let’s be honest. It requires travel, expensive entry fees, hotel stays, and logistical nightmares. Matthew Welch bypassed all of that nonsense by becoming a star of the Garage Gym Competition (GGC).
This unique event allows lifters from around the world to compete from their own homes, submitting videos of their lifts for judging. It sounds informal, but the intensity is unmatched.
Welch didn’t just enter; he excelled. Since 2019, his participation in the GGC has tracked a meteoric rise. He has used the competition as an annual benchmark, a date circled in red on the calendar that demands peak performance. Competing from the UK against athletes in the US and beyond, he bridges the geographical gap with digital intensity.
This format suits his personality perfectly. It strips away the pomp and circumstance of a traditional meet. There is no crowd screaming your name. There is no loud music unless you play it. In the silence of the Iron Cabin, Welch has to generate his own adrenaline. That internal drive is what separates the hobbyist from the champion. He even frames his competition T-shirts every year, engraving his totals on them—a ritual that honors the work he put in.
What is the secret behind his massive total increase?
The numbers tell a staggering story. In 2019, Matthew Welch posted a respectable total of 892 pounds. Solid, but not earth-shattering.
By 2021, that number had exploded to 1,140 pounds.
An increase of nearly 250 pounds in two years is almost unheard of for an intermediate lifter. That is “newbie gain” territory, but achieved by a guy who had already been training.
How did he do it? The secret lies in his equipment progression. In the beginning, Welch used standard one-inch plates and bars—the kind you buy at a department store. As his strength skyrocketed, a legendary thing happened: he literally bent the bar. He ran out of space on the sleeves to add more weight.
Think about that for a second. He got so strong that the equipment physically failed before he did.
This limitation forced an upgrade to Olympic standard equipment (2-inch sleeves), a symbolic graduation to the big leagues. Consistency was the fuel for this growth. Welch averaged an addition of about 125 pounds to his total every single year. He didn’t chase one-rep maxes every week; he built a wide base of strength that peaked at the right moment. His journey from “standard” gear to “Olympic” gear mirrors his evolution from enthusiast to elite.
Why combine Strongman with Powerlifting?
Specialization is the norm in modern strength sports. Powerlifters squat, bench, and deadlift. Strongmen carry rocks and flip tires. Crossfitters do… whatever they do. Matthew Welch refuses to choose.
He actively trains for both. He believes that the functional strength of strongman carries over to the static power of the “Big Three” lifts. You will often find him taking a break from the barbell to train log presses or weighted carries.
This “hybrid” approach prevents burnout. It keeps training fun. But more importantly, it builds a resilient body. The instability of strongman implements—try pressing a log that wants to roll out of your hands—strengthens the stabilizers that powerlifting often neglects.
For Welch, lifting isn’t just about moving a weight from point A to point B in a perfectly straight line. It is about moving awkward, heavy objects under fatigue. This versatility makes him a more complete athlete. It raises an interesting point for all of us: are we limiting our potential by staying too narrowly within one lane?
How does the “Tattooed Saiyan” persona influence his lifting?
Identity plays a massive role in performance. You have to believe you are the guy who lifts the weight before you actually lift it. Welch adopted the moniker “Tattooed Saiyan,” a nod to the warrior race from the Dragon Ball Z anime series.
It might sound like a fun, nerdy nickname, but it speaks to his deep-seated mindset. In the lore, Saiyans are a race that gets stronger every time they recover from battle. They call it a “Zenkai boost.”
This philosophy is evident in Welch’s training. He views every setback, every failed lift, and every injury not as a defeat, but as a prerequisite for the next level of power. He breaks himself down to build himself up stronger. The tattoos that cover his body are a visual diary of his journey, an external expression of the internal fire.
By adopting this persona, Welch steps into a character when he enters the Iron Cabin. He leaves Matthew the regular guy at the door and becomes the warrior. This psychological compartmentalization is a powerful tool for focus. It allows him to channel aggression positively and switch it off when he returns to daily life.
What role does community play in a solitary sport?
Training alone in a wooden cabin sounds isolating. It sounds lonely. Yet, Matthew Welch is deeply embedded in a vibrant community.
He credits the “garage gym community” on Instagram for keeping him accountable. He documents his training not for vanity—you won’t see filtered influencer shots here—but to create a digital logbook that others can learn from.
His involvement with media outlets like Garage Gym Life Media has positioned him as a leader in this space. He dedicates his bio links to supporting these networks, understanding that a rising tide lifts all ships. When he competes, he isn’t just lifting for himself; he is lifting for every person training in a cold garage, trying to better themselves.
This sense of belonging motivates him on the days when the motivation runs dry. Knowing that people across the “pond” are watching his progress pushes him to add that extra 5 pounds to the bar. It proves that you can be solitary without being alone.
How does he handle nutrition and recovery?
You cannot drive a high-performance car on low-grade fuel. But Welch doesn’t buy into the over-hyped supplement industry garbage. His approach to nutrition is pragmatic but disciplined.
He focuses on fueling the machine. Protein intake is paramount, supporting the repair of muscle tissue torn down during his brutal sessions. But he isn’t weighing every gram of rice. He eats to perform.
Sleep is his primary recovery modality. In a world obsessed with cryotherapy chambers and expensive massage guns, Welch prioritizes the basics. He listens to his body’s signals for rest. If his joints ache, he backs off. If his energy is low, he adjusts the volume.
This lack of rigidity is refreshing. It makes elite strength seem attainable. You don’t need a team of dieticians; you need to eat real food and sleep eight hours. Welch proves that the basics, executed violently well, yield the best results.
What challenges has he faced along the way?
The road to a 1,140-pound total was not paved with gold. Welch has battled the typical injuries that plague strength athletes—tweaked backs, sore knees, the usual suspects. But his biggest challenge was mental.
The “imposter syndrome” of competing against established athletes while training in a wooden shed is real. There were moments of doubt. Times when the weight felt too heavy and the progress too slow.
The transition from his friend’s gym to his own was also fraught with financial and logistical stress. Building the Iron Cabin required time, money, and physical labor, all while trying to maintain a training schedule.
Yet, these obstacles became part of the training. Carrying lumber is a workout. Budgeting for equipment teaches discipline. Welch didn’t let the lack of resources stop him; he let it fuel his creativity. His story is a reminder that conditions will never be perfect. You must start where you are, with what you have.
How can you train like Matthew Welch?
You don’t need a log cabin to train like the Tattooed Saiyan. You need a mindset shift.
Start by rejecting the limits others place on you. If someone says you are too small, too old, or too weak, use that as high-octane fuel. Get angry about it. Then use that anger to lift.
Prioritize compound movements. Squat, bench, deadlift, and overhead press should form the nucleus of your program. Don’t shy away from “odd object” training. Pick up sandbags, carry heavy rocks, or do farmer’s walks. These functional movements build “old man strength” that looks good and performs better.
Finally, be consistent. Welch didn’t build his total in a month. It was years of grinding in the cold, alone. Find a program, stick to it, and document your progress. Join a community, even an online one, to share your wins and losses.
What is next for the Strength Athlete?
Matthew Welch has no intention of slowing down. His totals continue to climb, and his Iron Cabin continues to evolve. He aims to push his deadlift toward the magical 500-pound barrier and beyond.
He is also expanding his footprint in the strongman world, looking to compete in more hybrid events. But perhaps his most important goal is to continue inspiring the next generation of garage gym athletes. He wants to show that you don’t need a membership to a fancy club to be world-class.
As he continues to load plates in his wooden sanctuary, Matthew Welch stands as a beacon for the underdog. He is proof that with enough heart, a barbell, and a place to call your own, you can become a champion of your own life.
Why does his story matter to us?
In a world that often rewards shortcuts, steroids, and quick fixes, Matthew Welch represents the long game. His success is entirely earned. There were no handouts. There were no elite sponsorships early on. There were no shortcuts.
Just a man, a shed, and a burning desire to be better.
His story matters because it removes our excuses. If he can become a champion training in a garden shed in the UK, what is stopping us from achieving our goals? He democratizes strength. He shows us that the power is not in the equipment. The power is not in the shoes. The power is in the athlete.
Matthew Welch is more than a powerlifter. He is a symbol of autonomy. He took control of his physical destiny and built a life of strength. Whether you lift weights or not, that is a philosophy worth adopting.
External Resource: For more on the rigorous standards of training and the physiological benefits of the methods used by athletes like Welch, refer to this detailed position stand from the American College of Sports Medicine (ACSM).
Video Reference: … Dr. Matthew Welch – Long Form Chat … Note on video: This video features a discussion with Dr. Matthew Welch. While he shares the name, the specific footage of the “Tattooed Saiyan” lifting is primarily found on his Instagram (@tattooed_saiyan) and the Garage Gym Competition archives. This link provides context on the “long form” discussion style often prevalent in the wellness community associated with the name.
FAQs – Matthew Welch
Who is Matthew Welch and why is he known as the ‘Tattooed Saiyan’?
Matthew Welch is a British strength athlete known for his gritty garage gym training and his moniker ‘Tattooed Saiyan,’ which reflects his warrior mindset and continuous pursuit of power, inspired by the Saiyan race from Dragon Ball Z.
What motivated Welch to build his own Iron Cabin for training?
Welch was motivated by a need for a mental and physical outlet during a difficult period in his life, which led him to create the Iron Cabin as a sanctuary dedicated solely to training and personal growth.
How has Welch achieved such remarkable progress in his strength training?
Welch achieved his progress through consistent training in his self-built Iron Cabin, progressive equipment upgrades, and an intuitive, self-programmed approach that emphasizes recovery and listening to his body.
What is unique about Welch’s training philosophy?
Welch’s training philosophy relies on intuitive consistency, self-programming, and trial-and-error, focusing on deep biofeedback, recovery, and autonomy rather than rigid, complex periodization.
How does Welch compete globally without a traditional gym?
He participates in the Garage Gym Competition (GGC), submitting videos of his lifts from his home gym, allowing him to compete on an international level without the need for travel or expensive meet fees.
