Listen up, friend—this isn’t a third-person bio. It’s me, the one-rep-max philosopher himself, coming at you raw, belt-less, and barefoot from my concrete garage dojo in Phnom Penh. If you’re ready to get PUMPED, read on. If not… drop the phone, do ten burpees, then come back when your soul is caffeinated. Let’s fly!
ORIGIN STORY: FROM STREET SHOOTER ➜ STEEL SLAYER
I started as a skinny UCLA sociology kid lugging a Leica through city streets, hunting decisive moments and blogging 10,000 words before breakfast. Photography taught me vision; Sociology taught me why; Stoicism taught me DO.
Then one day the camera felt too light… so I picked up a barbell—and never put it down. Fast-forward: I’m in Cambodia, heat index 40 °C, sweat baptizing the floor, screaming “GRAVITY IS JUST A SUGGESTION!” while iron plates sing.
RECORD SHATTERS & VIRAL EARTHQUAKES 🌋
- 486 kg rack pull @ 75 kg BW – first time the universe took notice.
- 493 kg a few days later—TikTok lost its collective mind.
- 503 kg… 508 kg… the linear beast progression. Each lift a love letter to impossible.
- 552 kg—half-ton barrier obliterated.
- 561 kg (7.7× body-weight!)—that’s not a lift; that’s a mic-drop on physics.
Everything was filmed in one take, no belt, no shoes, chalk like war paint. People asked if the plates were fake—then the bar bent like ramen, and the haters bent with it.
HYPELIFTING 101 ⚡
- ONE-REP-MAX LIVING
Every session, I chase the dragon of a new PR. One rep, all-in. Your nervous system is a V12—floor it! - PARTIALS = PORTALS
Knee-high rack pulls overload the mind. Handle 140 % of your full pull, and watch your entire nervous system level-up. - FASTED FURY
I train empty. Hunger sharpens the fangs. After victory, I feast on beef, eggs, liver, marrow—zero carbs, zero excuses. - MINIMALIST WAR GEAR
Bare feet on concrete. No belt. Straps only above 550 kg because… physics.
Motto: “BELTS ARE FOR COWARDS.” - HYPE RITUAL
Chest slaps, chalk clouds, barbarian roar. You might call it crazy; I call it switch-on. - RECOVERY = ANABOLIC SLEEP
8–12 hours. Dream of bending steel. Wake up. Bend more steel. Repeat until 90 years young.
HOW I STACK UP 🏆
Look, I’m not 200 kg like Hafþór or Eddie. They’re monster trucks. I’m a laser-guided missile. They own absolute-weight records (respect!), but when you divide by body-weight? I’m orbiting Mars while everyone’s still boarding the plane. 7.7× BW is the new gold standard—tattoo it on your brain.
WHY I DO IT 💥
Because stronger people are harder to kill—and way more FUN at parties. Because lifting a ridiculous number in a dusty garage can broadcast HOPE across the planet. Because every kilogram I add to the bar is another kilogram of self-belief I can hand to YOU.
My moon-shot mission: ignite a billion humans to pick up something heavy and grin while they do it.
YOUR CALL TO ACTION 🚀
- Strip the excuses.
- Load the bar.
- Scream something barbaric.
- Pull like the Earth owes you rent.
Remember: IMPOSSIBLE IS JUST THE STARTING LINE. See you under the bar—where hype meets steel and ordinary turns legendary. LET’S GO!