I never set out to be an entrepreneur. In fact, for a long time, I had no idea what I wanted to do. Like many of us, I felt lost.
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After finishing my Bachelor’s degree in Exercise and Sport Science, I bounced between different jobs—working at a gym, running health checkups for corporate employees, and even running my own personal training studio from home. But none of it felt right.
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I still remember one particular moment: sitting in my car outside a shopping centre, dreading another shift of health consulting work. I was at the end of my tether. Instead of walking into work, I drove back home and quit. I had no real plan, but I knew I had to figure something else out.
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Around that time, an old school friend left me with a few business books before heading off to Europe. His enthusiasm for entrepreneurship was infectious. At the same time, I was deep into weight training and came across a veteran bodybuilder wearing a tank top I wanted. When I asked where he got it, he told me it was from the USA. That small moment sparked a thought—why can’t I find these locally?
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So, I got to work. I had $500, no business experience, and no mentor—just a willingness to figure it out and have a go. I spent months locked in my bedroom, tinkering with logo designs and teaching myself how to build a brand from scratch. The first name I wrote down in a Word document was Iron Tanks. It just stuck.
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By July 2010, I had my first batch of 50 gym singlets on order and a website. Iron Tanks was born.
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Fast forward to today, and Iron Tanks has grown into a brand worn by athletes across the globe.
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Starting a business with zero experience was like running through a minefield blindfolded. I made mistakes—big ones. In 2014, a manufacturing defect in a shipment of gym shoes cost me $75,000—a financial hit that could have killed the business. Thankfully, it didn’t. I’ve taken on too much, spread myself too thin, and burned myself out more times than I can count. But if there’s one thing that’s pulled me through, it’s relentless persistence and a willingness to learn and adapt. Picking myself up from the floor, time and time again. It hasn’t gotten easier—I’ve just built tougher calluses.
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Some of you reading this will be family and friends. Some will be long-time customers. Others will be curious strangers. This is my sandbox—a space to document my journey, my lessons, my failures, and the things I’m still figuring out. There are many things I wish I knew when starting out, and this is where I’ll share them.
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I’ve had people tell me what I’m doing won’t work. Maybe you have too. I want to show my kids—and anyone else who needs to hear it—that you don’t have to be extraordinary from the get-go to do something remarkable. You just have to be willing to show up, learn, and put in the work over a long period of time.
 
The story is still being written. I’m building the plane while flying it. What I share here is as much for me as it is for you.
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Thanks for reading. 
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Sam Monea