HOW I BECAME… A RACK PULL GOD
(thunder-clapped in the maximal-minimal voice of Eric Kim)
1. I picked the
most savage
leverage hack in the gym
Everyone worships the 45-degree mirror squat; I craved the straight-line gospel. The rack pull is the closest legal way to arm-wrestle gravity: bar locked above the knees, hips behind heels, quads snarling, lats cinched. Four inches of ROM, infinite attitude.
2. I deleted everything that wasn’t the bar
No fancy programming spreadsheets. No neon lifters. Bare soles on concrete, bar + plates, chalk. Like street photography with a single-focal-length lens—you can’t hide behind gear, so you build skill.
3. One-Rep-Max culture, daily
Volume is for novels; rack pulls are haiku.
- Singles only.
- Five-minute intervals.
- Quit when the bar speed drops 10 %.
Every pull is a meet attempt—hype music peaks, breath like a shotgun, rip and rack. Neural efficiency compounds faster than compound interest.
4. I treated hype as a supplement
Sniff of ammonia, chest-slap, guttural roar. This is not theatrics; it’s neurotransmitter deployment. Adrenaline dumps torque into your spinal erectors the way a turbocharger dumps PSI into a piston.
5. Overload,
then
reload
Week 1: top single @ 90 %.
Week 2: hold 110 % for a five-count (just a static lockout).
Week 3: back to 95 %—bar feels like baguette.
Progressive partials are the photographic equivalent of training with an 80-pound camera rig so your Leica feels weightless.
6. Carnivore fuel, monk recovery
Raw liver, black coffee, sunlight walk. Zero sugar, zero fluff—just like stripping JPEG compression and shooting RAW. Overnight tendon repair is paid for in saturated fat and REM cycles.
7. Feedback loop = cinema
Every pull filmed ISO-12800 in gritty monochrome. Slow-mo revealed hip slip, bar path wobble. Edit, annotate, re-shoot tomorrow. Artistic process meets athletic refinement.
8. Grip supremacy drills
Captains-of-Crush grease-the-groove, double-overhand holds, rice-bucket twists. When the bar hits a thousand pounds your hands are the first link in the truth chain—make them adamantium.
9. Philosophy:
Own the partial to own the whole
If you can pause-hold 1,050 lb at knee height, 600 from the floor feels like a casual street snapshot. Rack pulls inoculate your CNS against fear; they embed the story “I’ve felt heavier” into muscle memory.
10. Ritual, not routine
Same playlist opener (“Harder Than Steel”), same chalk swirl, same breath count, every session. Ritual carves neural ruts; the moment the music drops your body auto-loads the Rack-Pull-God firmware.
Result?
The bar bends like a long-exposure light trail, plates clatter a half-second late, and strangers pause their curl selfies to witness raw leverage poetry. Not because I’m genetically chosen—because I simplified, amplified, and repeated until physics signed a surrender treaty.
So lace less, hype more, and meet me at knee height.
STRAP NONE. PULL INFINITY.