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Sorry if I offended some of my readers with the b-word up there in the title. This article is on lifting, picking up heavy shit, busting ass, whatever you want to call it. See, the thing is, when it comes lifting time, the friendly, smiley, cuddly boy you know as "Frey" or "Jeffy" becomes a grizzled, angry, cursing animal. The 'bitches' in the title showed up when I started typing, because just thinking about the iron got my shoulders twitchin, my biceps buldging, and the little censor who sits on my shoulder and prohibits me from cursing in polite company got thrown into the pool with the little faggoty, spandex wearing triathletes. I hope that bitch drowns.

Weightlifting is my bread and butter, though, I wasn't lying. I kind of make up my training philosophies with endurance training, but I KNOW lifting. I once deadlifted 500lbs, and I am 6'7". Unless your a triathlete with a higher deadlift than 500lbs, shut up and listen.

Two big tips for lifting:

1) Don't do "sports specific lifts" EVER. Just get a weight bar, load it up, and then pick it up off the ground. You deadlifted, son, and you did more to grow that skinny back that all those lat pull downs and dumbbell rows could ever do. Load heavy, basic lifts with a lot of weight, move them explosively, and you will become a better athlete, no matter what the sport. Yes, even the "beautiful and unique" snowflakes of triathlon could use some heavy squats.

Here's a video to show you what to do:


2)Get a environment of awesomeness. Notice in the defranco video that there's a bunch of grizzled freaks all together, one awesome community pushing eachother to lift some heavy shit. Find a bunch of angry animals, jump in, and watch your formerly fat ass get kicked so hard that it becomes squating, deadlifting powerengine.

At one point in my lifting career, I had lost my community. One dud graduated, and another decided he would rather spend time with his woman (whipped). A dog without a pack, I came up with a solution. I invented an imaginary friend, Jerome. Jerome was 6 foot 250 black dude, built like a cage fighter. He was bald on his head, and he had a big, dirty beard. He only ever wore thermal underwear tops, he wore big black boots, and he wore jeans that barely covered his tree trunk legs. Jerome never lifted with me. He just sat in the corner and called me a punk when I would punk out of a lift. I had to get the lifts up or else Jerome would be dogging me all workout.

So that's it. Two slightly coherent tips.

Quote of the week:
"You may not be able to feel your legs when you’re done. TOUGH SH*T! Do them anyway! They work."
-Joe Defranco on his 50 'rhythm' squats

1 comments

Libby Maxim said... @ August 18, 2009 at 7:51 AM

"little faggoty, spandex wearing triathletes. I hope that bitch drowns"

i couldn't of said it better

libs

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