My Deadlift Story

It all started with the big dead lift thread, seeing little miss 0wn-your-weak-little-ass pulling weight I only see as a whispering vapor after startling awake bolt upright in bed covered in a thin cold sweat “Oh the heavy bar! Mommy!”

And its not that my personal totals aren’t like a punch line to a bad middle school joke, or that I chase my P&F meal with Reeses Peanut Butter cups and I only get 7 hours of sleep a night, but more in that I went from a 240 lbs 26% body fat tub of fluff to a 168 lbs 8% chiseled catabolic machine living on 1900 calories a day, only to start reading T-mag and taking the gospel of PROTIEN as a license to binge on 24oz cuts of still bloody beef, eating cottage cheese like a crack head hits the pipe, and taking liberty with my “Bulking” phases (which happen to last for months on end, with nary a cutting phase to be found) only to now find myself a year later hovering around 210 lbs at what I consider a un-proportionally placed 15% of body fat. It all rides on my love handles. Oh, the curse of cruel, cruel genetics. I still have these visible abdomen muscles, as it seems the fat deposits itself right on top of the lean tissue and instead of a doughy soft white mound of flesh I have this fun house mirror distortion of a well-molded midsection. French fries do not help the situation.

It was at this point of dietary inconsistency, coupled with a lackluster display of intensity in the past few weeks(MONTHS) of iron play that I found myself reading the “Big Dead” thread and followed the link to Dave Tate’s article on pulling from the floor. Keep the shoulders behind the bar. Dig in the heels. Pull the bar towards your body. Keep an arch, and round the shoulders. Don’t put your ass all the way down, as it acts as to lengthen the lever motion, which I’m guessing is BadBadBad!

With the words marching across the foreground of my conscious thoughts, I put on flat bottom shoes, turned up the music, and set up to pull from the floor. After 3 sets of an embarrassing weight, I added every plate I had for a total of 298 lbs. Then I pulled that for 6 more sets of 2. Mind you this is a good 40 lbs. over my previous rep weight, as I am a pussy of incorrigible proportions. Goddamn if it didn’t feel good. The points from Tate’s article, as applied, made it feel as if I could pull 100 lbs more with ease. Before I dreaded dead lift day, only finishing my sets with a strong exertion of physical and mental willing, never pushing for more. Now I hunger for more weight! I have to buy more plates! It’s a dangerous compulsion, the dead lift. I look forward to being consumed.

As I drank my Surge, feeling the pleasant tightness and fatigue that accompanies an effective workout, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The rekindling of a fire inside to do more, and to do it better. That liquefied wedding cake goodness churning down my gullet was a reward in itself. Bring on the pain!

deads are dope.

just a question… were you using a snatch grip?

Yes, it was snatch grip.