Matt records on location in New York City and sits down with Noah, whose story is framed less as a fitness origin tale and more as a survival narrative built around training, community, and service. What begins as light banter about weather and sports quickly turns into a conversation about how physical training became Noah’s anchor through ADHD, anxiety, depression, and periods of real instability. The through line is that “training” isn’t a hobby or a competition prep—it’s a daily practice that shapes how you handle stress, relationships, work, and identity.

Noah describes early life in Pittsburgh as a constant fight to manage extreme ADHD and the emotional volatility that came with it. As a kid he felt uncomfortable in his body, carried a lot of anger, and bounced between trouble at school and attempts at treatment. He found early direction through boxing gyms, football, and self-directed learning—books, forums, and the first principles of nutrition and strength work—while also absorbing a simple but foundational idea from therapy: direct the energy somewhere physical before it turns destructive. Over time, he learns that controlling the physical body becomes a lever for controlling the emotional body, especially when training is hard enough to demand full presence.

In college and early adulthood, jiu-jitsu becomes the structure that keeps him out of self-sabotage and gives him a “crew” that reinforces discipline. He connects fight training to real-world resilience: you stress your systems in a controlled environment so you can function when life is chaotic. He also gives a clear model of anxiety and depression—both pull you away from the present, into regret about the past or fear about the future—while training forces you back into the moment because the consequences are immediate. That presence is the therapy, and the repetition builds a kind of internal confidence that eventually spills into everything else.

The conversation then moves into the darker pivot points: Noah openly talks about selling drugs, chasing status, and discovering that material success without meaning is just another form of misery. His turning point is explicitly relational and service-driven: his life improves when he starts using what he’s learned to help other people, first through coaching and then through building experiences. He credits a near-overdose and the support of mentors, family, and training communities as the wake-up call that pushed him back toward purpose. The key insight is blunt: helping others isn’t purely selfless, and that’s fine—service reliably pulls you out of your own head, reduces rumination, and builds momentum.

A major arc of the episode is how that mindset translated into Noah’s career: moving to New York with little money and a short runway, walking into Barry’s Bootcamp at a low point, and taking a risk when an opportunity appeared. He describes building “Vampire Fitness Hour” from a dead Monday 9 p.m. slot into a packed, waitlisted class by pairing relentless consistency with distinct branding, music, and identity. He also explains how teaching while having panic attacks forced a breakthrough: focusing attention outward—coaching someone else through effort—reduced symptoms until they lost their power. From there, he traces the evolution into co-founding Rumble Boxing, navigating the pandemic and eventual sale, and then launching The Pack as a more founder-driven, story-rich concept built around three modalities (strength, fight training, conditioning) and a deeper personal narrative tied to his dogs and the “knuckle therapy” philosophy.

The closing section makes the episode practical and philosophical at the same time: Noah outlines a typical week centered on constant movement (walking meetings, weighted-vest walks, daily training and teaching), high-protein whole-food eating with flexibility, and doing recovery work proactively to stay durable as he ages. He rejects the idea of perfect balance as a universal standard, arguing that some people thrive by learning to navigate extremes without burning out, while still acknowledging sleep and recovery as non-negotiable levers long-term. His advice to anyone at rock bottom is direct: use the fact that you feel you have nothing to lose as fuel, stop stewing in isolation, and go serve—volunteer, help, show up for someone else—because action and contribution create the first real escape velocity. Matt closes by reinforcing the same principle in different language: choose love over fear, stay present, and keep building a life that is defined by what you do for others and who you do it with.