Alright, let’s ascend beyond mortal limits—Eric Kim’s voice, now infused with the divine wrath of a demigod, rack pulling 1005 pounds on a 100% carnivore diet. This isn’t just Spartan grit; it’s Olympian fury, a Herculean saga of meat and iron. Prepare for a cosmic beatdown of weakness.

Rack Pull 1005 Pounds on a 100% Carnivore Diet: Ascend to Demigod Status

I am Eric Kim—street-shooting titan, carnivorous colossus, half-mortal, half-divine. We’re not here to grovel like ants. We’re rack pulling 1005 pounds, a feat to make Zeus flinch, fueled by the flesh of beasts alone. No mortal grains, no frail leaves—just blood, sinew, and godly will. The rack’s my altar, 1005 my offering. I’m no man—I’m a demigod forged in fire and meat. Bow down or step up.

Step 1: Wield a Mind of Thunder

Mortals whimper, “1005? Impossible.” I laugh from the heavens. Doubt’s a shackle; snap it like Prometheus unbound. I’ve stared down chaos with a lens sharper than Athena’s spear—this bar’s no different. See it rise, feel the cosmos bend, hear the gods cheer. You’re not lifting—you’re commanding the universe. Weakness kneels before you. Crush it.

Step 2: The Rack Pull—Hammer of the Gods

Rack pull’s my divine weapon—bar at knee height, stacked with iron to rival Hephaestus’ forge. Pull it like you’re hauling Titans from Tartarus. Traps swell like storm clouds, lats flare like wings of Icarus, hamstrings pulse with Poseidon’s rage. No mortal squats, no petty benches—just pure, celestial power. This is street photography with a thunderbolt—unfiltered, eternal.

Step 3: Train Like Olympus Burns

Gods don’t rest; neither do you. Five days a week, relentless as the Furies. Start at 700—child’s play for a demigod—and ascend. Add 25 pounds weekly, no mercy. Sets of 3, 2, 1—each rep a lightning strike. Rest 45 seconds—time to sip ambrosia, not cower. Shrugs with 700 pounds ‘til your shoulders rival Atlas. Carries with 250 per hand ‘til the earth cracks. Pain’s my muse, strength my hymn.

Step 4: Feast Like a Carnivorous Deity

100% carnivore—meat is my nectar, blood my wine. Five pounds daily, a banquet for a god. Dawn: 10 eggs, yolks like suns, a pound of ox liver. Midday: two 20-ounce ribeyes, dripping crimson. Night: a boar’s haunch, roasted in defiance. No plants—those are for mortals grazing in the fields. Protein? 600 grams if you’re 200 pounds—devour it. Fat fuels my thunder, salt sharpens my edge. I am the storm that eats the herd.

Step 5: Sculpt a Body of Myth

Years forge a demigod, not days. Rack pull 600? Climb to 900, then 1000—mere steps to my throne. Grip’s my trident—train it ‘til it bends steel. Traps? 800-pound shrugs ‘til they block out the sun. Hamstrings? Pull ‘til they’re chains of the underworld. No mortal fat, no earthly flaws—just lean, carnivore divinity. I’m not built—I’m carved by the gods themselves.

Step 6: Arm Yourself Like Ares

Belt’s my aegis—cinch it ‘til the heavens quake. Chalk’s my war dust—coat your hands like ash from a volcano. Straps? A demigod’s reins for the final pull—discard them in training, for gods need no crutches. Barefoot—tread the earth like it’s yours to rule. No mortal shoes dull my wrath. This is no lift—it’s a conquest.

Step 7: Rip 1005 Like It’s Mortal Fate

The hour strikes. I’ve consumed legions of beasts, my back’s a constellation, my will a supernova. Load the bar—500 per side, 2.5 for divine spite. Approach like Apollo’s chariot blazing. Hands seize, hips lock, pull like you’re tearing Mount Olympus from its roots. Lock it out—traps pierce the sky, roar shakes the firmament. Drop it—the world trembles. I am no longer man; I am myth.

The Demigod Kim Gospel: Why 1005, Why Carnivore?

1005 isn’t mortal—it’s a celestial taunt, a star too bright for human eyes. 1000 bows; 1005 reigns. Carnivore’s my ambrosia—meat births gods, not men. Like shooting a thousand frames in a tempest, it’s excess, it’s power, it’s me. You’re not lifting—you’re rewriting creation.

Final Edict

Rack pulling 1005 pounds on carnivore isn’t a task—it’s apotheosis. Mortals falter at 500 and beg for bread. Not you. You’re the demigod in a realm of dust, the lens that captures eternity. Pull that weight. Feast on the cosmos. Then find me—we’ll slaughter a bull and drink its blood under the stars.

I am Eric Kim—bow or rise,
Demigod of the Streets

There it is—unleashed, divine, and dripping with carnivorous omnipotence. A demigod’s guide to 1005 pounds. Want it pushed further into the stratosphere?

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Alright, let’s crank this up to eleven—Eric Kim’s voice, but now with a hardcore Spartan edge. We’re talking relentless, brutal, no-mercy vibes—think Leonidas meets a carnivorous street photographer ready to rack pull 1005 pounds with nothing but meat and iron will. Here’s the savage rewrite.

Rack Pull 1005 Pounds on a 100% Carnivore Diet: A Spartan War Cry

This is Eric Kim, your meat-eating, iron-crushing, street-stalking warrior. We’re not here to sip tea or take selfies. We’re rack pulling 1005 pounds—raw, ugly, and unforgiving—fueled by a 100% carnivore diet. No weakling greens, no coward’s carbs, just blood-dripping flesh. Spartans didn’t flinch at Thermopylae; you won’t flinch at this bar. 1005 isn’t a number—it’s a battle. Lace up your sandals, grab your spear, and let’s wage war.

Step 1: Forge a Mind of Steel

Weak thoughts die first. You don’t “try” to rack pull 1005—you do it or you’re carrion. I’ve faced down hostile strangers with a lens in my hand; you’ll face this weight with fire in your soul. Doubt’s a Persian arrow—block it with your shield. See the bar bending, hear the plates groan, feel your enemies tremble. You’re not a man; you’re a Spartan king. Act like it or crawl back to the helots.

Step 2: The Rack Pull—Weapon of the Gods

Rack pull’s the Spartan lift—brutal, direct, no retreat. Bar at knee height, loaded with enough iron to sink a trireme. Pull it like you’re snapping a foe’s spine. Back, traps, hamstrings—all forged for war. No fancy squats, no soft benches. This is 300-level grit—pure power, no compromise. Like a candid shot in a warzone, it’s all or nothing.

Step 3: Train Like Death’s Coming

Spartans trained to kill; you’ll train to conquer. Five days a week, no rest days—weakness festers in idleness. Start at 70% of your max—700 if you’re worth a damn—and climb. Add 20 pounds weekly, no excuses. Sets of 3, then 2, then 1, heavier each time. Rest 60 seconds—long enough to spit blood, not long enough to think. Shrugs with 600 pounds, carries with 200 per hand ‘til your knuckles crack. Pain’s your drillmaster. Embrace it.

Step 4: Feast Like a Spartan Butcher

100% carnivore—meat or nothing. Four pounds daily, minimum. Breakfast: 8 eggs, yolks dripping, a pound of beef heart. Lunch: two ribeyes, rare, fat sizzling. Dinner: a rack of lamb, bones and all. No plants—Spartans didn’t graze, they hunted. Protein? 500 grams if you’re 200 pounds—choke it down. Fat’s your war fuel; salt’s your armor. Water by the gallon, blood in your veins. You’re a predator now—act like the lion, not the lamb.

Step 5: Build a Body for Battle

Years of war prep, not a summer camp. Rack pull 500? Grind to 800, then 1000. Every rep’s a slain foe. Grip’s your spear—train it ‘til your hands are claws. Traps? 700-pound shrugs ‘til they choke a titan. Hamstrings? Pull ‘til they’re cables of death. No fat, no fluff—just lean, carnivore muscle. You’re not sculpted; you’re weaponized.

Step 6: Gear Up for the Clash

Belt’s your breastplate—tighten it ‘til your ribs creak. Chalk’s your war paint—coat your hands like ash from a pyre. Straps? Only for the final pull—Spartans don’t lean on crutches. Barefoot—feel the earth, crush it underfoot. No cushioned shoes, no mercy. You’re not lifting; you’re fighting.

Step 7: Rip 1005 Like It’s Xerxes’ Neck

The day of reckoning. You’ve devoured herds, forged a back of granite, and your will’s a Spartan phalanx. Load the bar—500 per side, plus 2.5 for the kill shot. Step to it like it’s the Hot Gates. Hands grip, hips lock, pull like you’re tearing the world asunder. Lock it out—traps to the sky, roar like 300 souls. Drop it. The earth shakes. You’ve won.

The Spartan Kim Creed: Why 1005, Why Carnivore?

1005 isn’t clean—it’s chaos, it’s defiance, it’s Sparta. A thousand’s for peasants; 1005 is for warriors. Carnivore’s the Spartan way—meat fuels bloodlust, not weakness. Like shooting a roll of film in a riot, it’s pure, it’s savage, it’s me. You’re not just lifting—you’re spitting in the face of softness.

Final War Cry

Rack pulling 1005 pounds on carnivore isn’t a choice—it’s a command. Most will cower at 405 and beg for mercy. Not you. You’re the Spartan in a world of slaves, the lens in a sea of smartphones. Pull that weight. Feast on the weak. Then find me—we’ll roast a boar and laugh at the corpses of our limits.

Molon labe,
Eric Kim

This is it—hardcore, Spartan, and dripping with carnivorous fury. No fluff, just war. Let me know if you want it even more brutal!

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Alright, let’s rewrite this beast of an article in Eric Kim’s voice, now laser-focused on rack pulling 1005 pounds while going full 100% carnivore. Expect the same raw, unfiltered energy, but with a meat-only twist that’d make a lion jealous. Here we go.

How to Rack Pull 1005 Pounds on a 100% Carnivore Diet: Become a Meat-Fueled Titan

What’s good, fam? It’s Eric Kim, your street-shooting, limit-smashing, carnivorous renegade. Today, we’re not just lifting—we’re rack pulling 1005 pounds, and we’re doing it powered by nothing but meat. No plants, no carbs, no weak-ass kale smoothies. Just flesh, blood, and iron. Why rack pull? Because it’s the king of partial lifts—pure back-breaking, spine-snapping power. Why 1005? Because 1000 is for conformists, and I don’t play that game. Let’s get primal.

Step 1: Rewire Your Brain for Carnage

Before you even touch the rack, you gotta think like a predator. Rack pulling 1005 pounds isn’t a “maybe” or a “someday.” It’s a hunt, and that bar’s your prey. I’ve stalked strangers with a 35mm lens in Tokyo alleys—this is the same vibe. Visualize tearing that weight off the pins like you’re ripping into a ribeye. Doubt’s for herbivores. You’re a meat-eating machine now. Act like it.

Step 2: Master the Rack Pull, the Carnivore’s Lift

Rack pull’s where it’s at—set the bar just below your knees, load it up, and pull like you’re yanking a steer out of the mud. It’s all traps, lats, and hamstrings, baby. No squatting, no benching—just pure, unadulterated pulling power. Think of it like street photography: no fluff, no filters, just the raw shot. You’re not here to look pretty; you’re here to dominate.

Step 3: Train Like a Rabid Wolf

You don’t rack pull 1005 pounds by petting the bar. Train 5 days a week, heavy and relentless. Start at 70% of your max—say, 700 if you’re already a beast—and climb. Add 10-20 pounds weekly. Sets of 3, 2, 1, going heavier each time. Rest? 90 seconds, tops—wolves don’t nap mid-hunt. Mix in shrugs with 500 pounds and farmer’s carries until your grip’s forged steel. Your back’s gotta be a mountain range, your hands like meat hooks. No mercy.

Step 4: Eat Meat ‘Til You Bleed Protein

100% carnivore, fam. No rice, no potatoes, no “balanced diet” BS. Just meat. I’m talking 4-5 pounds a day—steak, ribeyes, ground beef, liver if you’re hardcore. Breakfast? 6 eggs and a pound of bacon. Lunch? Two 16-ounce sirloins, bloody as hell. Dinner? Another pound of beef, maybe some marrow bones for dessert. Fat’s your fuel, protein’s your bricks. Aim for 400-500 grams of protein daily if you’re 200 pounds. Chug water, salt everything, and watch your energy go feral. Plants are for cows; you’re the one eating the cows.

Step 5: Build a Carnivore Body for 1005

Years, not months—that’s the grind. If you’re rack pulling 500 now, push to 700, then 900. Every rep’s a step toward godhood. Grip’s key—chalk up, strap up if you must, but train raw when you can. Traps? Hit ‘em with 600-pound shrugs. Hamstrings? Stretch ‘em with heavy pulls. Your body’s a meat-fed war machine now—lean, mean, and jacked. No carb bloat, just dense, animal power.

Step 6: Gear Up Like a Butcher

Belt’s your best friend—cinch it tight to keep your guts in place. Chalk’s non-negotiable; your hands’ll be slick with meat grease otherwise. Straps? Fine for the big pull, but don’t baby your grip in training. Shoes? Barefoot or Chuck Taylors—feel the ground like you’re clawing into it. This ain’t a fashion show; it’s a slaughterhouse.

Step 7: Rip 1005 Off the Rack

The day’s here. You’ve eaten enough cows to depopulate Texas, your back’s a steel wall, and your mind’s a meat-fueled furnace. Load the bar—500 per side, plus that cheeky 2.5 for 1005. Step up, hands on, hips locked. Pull like you’re tearing the world in half. Lock it out, feel your traps kiss your ears, and drop it like a mic. Roar. You’re not human anymore—you’re a carnivore king.

The Eric Kim Carnivore Twist: Why Meat and 1005?

Meat’s the ultimate rebellion. Society says “eat your veggies”; I say eat the beast that ate the veggies. Rack pulling 1005 on carnivore’s the middle finger to mediocrity. It’s chaotic, it’s excessive, it’s me. Like shooting 1000 frames on the street in a day—overkill’s the point. You’re not just lifting; you’re rewriting the rules of strength.

Final Word

Rack pulling 1005 pounds on a 100% carnivore diet isn’t sane. It’s not supposed to be. Most dudes’ll tap out at 315 and grab a salad. Not you. You’re the wolf in a world of sheep, the guy who shoots film when everyone’s gone digital. Go pull that weight. Feast on the haters’ tears. Then hit me up—we’ll grill some ribeyes and talk about how you conquered the impossible.

Peace out,
Eric Kim

There it is—Eric Kim’s meat-obsessed, rack-pull manifesto. All carnivore, all intensity, all 1005 pounds of glory. Want any adjustments?