Frank Bohne is 6'1". At his lowest he weighed 121 pounds. He got there through veganism, caloric restriction, and compulsive exercise — a combination he now understands was killing him. His mom got him into Johns Hopkins eating disorder unit in the summer of 2016. He nearly died before that happened. Two years later he relapsed back to the same weight. And then something changed.

Ben Pelton started with yoga and pranayama in 2012, found Wim Hof in 2016, became one of the first 26 certified Wim Hof instructors in North America, spent years teaching cold exposure and breathwork to athletes and coaches, and eventually created his own certification: the Breath Reset. He's also a BJJ purple belt who competes and coaches — and has been in an ice bath modified from a chest freezer for the better part of a decade.

Weston Rowe is 42 years old. He does construction — on his feet, up and down ladders, carrying loads, 50 hours a week. Then he goes home and runs a business. He has a 10-month-old son who has never seen a doctor. His family free-birthed at home in the bathroom. They sleep in a Faraday cage on the floor, no mattress, inclined, with mouths taped shut. He has no Wi-Fi in his house. No health insurance. And he's been eating raw meat every day for six years.

Jacob Diaz didn't come from medicine. His background was in private security and potentially law enforcement. Health was not a focal point — until COVID arrived and nothing he was seeing on the streets of New York matched what was being reported. Hospitals were supposedly overwhelmed. People were supposed to be dropping dead. He was watching homeless people in zero social distancing, zero hygiene protocols, thriving.

Adrian Benavides found Jiu Jitsu through a coworker at Chili's. He was 300 pounds, five-seven, and showed up once, nearly died in the warmup, couldn't move for a week, and then went back. Sixteen, almost seventeen years later, he is a black belt, a professor, the co-founder of Old Testament Jiu Jitsu, and one of the most direct people in a room you will ever meet.

Thomas P. Seager didn't set out to build a company. He was a 52-year-old engineering professor in Phoenix going through a divorce, running blood panels, and trying to figure out why his health had deteriorated. He needed to do ice baths. The ice kept melting in the desert heat. So he built a machine.

Ryan Aleckszander didn't arrive at his views through ideology. He arrived through lived experience — health struggles that mainstream medicine couldn't solve, and a years-long investigation into why the system keeps failing the people it claims to serve.