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I was searching the net for a nice sized article to post on Rest-Pause Training when I cam across this from Jason Mueller on Anabolicextreme.com. Its about is first foray into Hardcore Training.
"Now I know what you’re thinking. “Who is this guy that he thinks he trains harder than me? I bust my ass in the gym every day, nobody trains harder than me!” You know, I used to have the same attitude. About four years ago a friend of mine who lives in Southern California is telling me that he is the ultimate trainer, that no one trains harder than him, and that he can produce amazing results with his training system. Sure I thought. I mean, I’m squatting close to 700 for reps, I’m benching close to 500, I’m doing rack deads with 800, and bent-over rows with 500. No ****. I assumed that no one was training harder than my partner and myself. So, my friend down South and I are always talking **** to each other, as friends have a tendency to do, about who was the superior trainer. I tell him that I’m making a trip to SoCal and that it’s put up or shut up time. We both are looking forward to the ensuing battle, each person convinced that he is the superior trainer. Woe is me.
First of all, let’s dispel the myth of weight. If you are one of those people who is convinced that the more weight you lift, the bigger you get, WAKE UP!!! I will agree that neophyte trainers will be able to use increasingly more weight over a very short period of time, and that they will probably see great results. We are not neophyte trainers. I don’t know about you, but my strength doesn’t really increase that much after I have been training consistently. If you sole goal is too lift heavier and heavier weights, thinking that you will become bigger and bigger, you are in the wrong sport. You need to switch over to powerlifting or weightlifting immediately. If however, your goal is to produce the biggest, shapeliest muscles possible, then read on.
Anyway, I hook up with my trainer friend down in SoCal eager to prove my worth. I’ve taken my Thermadrene and can feel it’s magic starting to take affect. He takes me to this gym, I swear this was the biggest rat **** gym I have ever seen. No one works the desk, most of the members have keys to open the place up, it’s a pure iron gym. You won’t find any elliptical walkers or Hammer Strength equipment in this place, just tons of iron. So, after getting over the shock of the appearance of the place, we begin training. My friend explains that we are going to work out using a rest pause system. Sounds kind of pussy to me but I’m game, ready to show my stuff. We start out on a flat bench in the power rack with the safety bars placed just below the lowest point of where the barbell will rest on my chest in the down phase. We also have a plate underneath the bench to give it a very slight decline. Mind you, I’m benching close to 500 now, and consider myself to be pretty strong. So when he tells me to start with 315, I tell him he’s crazy. He assures me 315 is plenty heavy. He demonstrates the set. Ok, you are going to get 10 reps at a nice slow controlled pace, not bouncing the bar but controlling it through the entire range of motion. After you get 10, rack the bar for thirty seconds, then go for 7 more reps. After you that rest for another 30 seconds and get five more reps. He gets off the bench and I proceed with my set. Halfway through the set of seven I’m dusted. I think I got maybe five. I rack it and try to get my last five after thirty seconds of rest. Again, I’m dusted, maybe I got 2-3 with help. Obviously I’m embarrassed. I have to reduce the weight to around 245 because I’ve got two more sets. After resting long enough for him to do his set I go again. I’m getting my ass kicked here. At the end of this first exercise my fucking chest if on fire and we’ve still got two more exercises to go. Great. Next exercise, incline dumbbells. Same principal. Grabbing a moderately heavy weight (I think I started with 100’s, usually using 160’s before) I tried to get 10, 7, and 5 again for 3 sets. No dice. My chest is screaming stop, I can’t catch my breath, the room is spinning like a fucking top, and my friend is asking me if I’m ready for the next set. Sure, I say, trying not to throw up on my way to the next bench. Now were doing incline flys, and damn heavy incline flys at that. Now were only going for rest pause sets of 7,5,3 so I go with 100’s again. Mistake. Three sets of flys and were done. I made it. I’m alive. Thank you God. We tromp upstairs so I can hit some quad shots for my buddy, trying to regain some of the pride I’ve just swallowed several times over the course of this workout. After what seemed like an eternity I make it up this flight of stairs to the second level where some good sunlight is coming in through the windows. Ahh, he may have kicked my ass in that workout, I’m thinking, but wait till he sees this quad shot. I roll up my shorts and put my leg out in front of me, contracting that quad for all it’s worth. Immediately my leg locks up in a cramp from my depleted state and I fall flat on my face in agony. So much for getting my pride back.
The story I just told is true and was my first experience with hardcore training. Hardcore training is the kind of workouts that makes you want to cry. Hardcore training makes everyone in the gym look at you as if you were crazy, not because you’re screaming or yelling, but because you are busting your ass so hard that people think something is wrong with you. Hardcore training consists of the kind of workouts that you actually fear as they approach. Have you ever actually feared training? Have you ever literally felt as if something was seriously physically wrong with you after working out? Probably not. Now, I’ve seen some incredibly huge guys that are lazy sacks of **** when it comes to working out. Paul Dillet comes to mind. Now, those of smaller intellectual capacity might look at someone who trains like Dillet, look at his size, and think that the kind of training I advocate is unnecessary. However, Paul Dillet is a genetic freak, Paul Dillet is on every imaginable drug in unimaginable quantities. And, if I trained him, he would look twice as freaky as he does now if his heart didn’t explode first. My point is this. Brutal workouts are a prerequisite for brutal size. My training partner now learned some of his techniques from the same guy I did. He has taken it a step further. He has incorporated some drop sets and stretching into the workouts that make it even more brutal. We trained back the other day and it literally hurt to breath because my lats were expanding with every breath I took. My first workout with him was legs and by the end my whole body was shaking. The slight incline of the parking lot looked like Mount Everest to me. Who paved this goddamn parking lot I was screaming inside as I walked to my car. That’s how you should feel when your done training."
"Now I know what you’re thinking. “Who is this guy that he thinks he trains harder than me? I bust my ass in the gym every day, nobody trains harder than me!” You know, I used to have the same attitude. About four years ago a friend of mine who lives in Southern California is telling me that he is the ultimate trainer, that no one trains harder than him, and that he can produce amazing results with his training system. Sure I thought. I mean, I’m squatting close to 700 for reps, I’m benching close to 500, I’m doing rack deads with 800, and bent-over rows with 500. No ****. I assumed that no one was training harder than my partner and myself. So, my friend down South and I are always talking **** to each other, as friends have a tendency to do, about who was the superior trainer. I tell him that I’m making a trip to SoCal and that it’s put up or shut up time. We both are looking forward to the ensuing battle, each person convinced that he is the superior trainer. Woe is me.
First of all, let’s dispel the myth of weight. If you are one of those people who is convinced that the more weight you lift, the bigger you get, WAKE UP!!! I will agree that neophyte trainers will be able to use increasingly more weight over a very short period of time, and that they will probably see great results. We are not neophyte trainers. I don’t know about you, but my strength doesn’t really increase that much after I have been training consistently. If you sole goal is too lift heavier and heavier weights, thinking that you will become bigger and bigger, you are in the wrong sport. You need to switch over to powerlifting or weightlifting immediately. If however, your goal is to produce the biggest, shapeliest muscles possible, then read on.
Anyway, I hook up with my trainer friend down in SoCal eager to prove my worth. I’ve taken my Thermadrene and can feel it’s magic starting to take affect. He takes me to this gym, I swear this was the biggest rat **** gym I have ever seen. No one works the desk, most of the members have keys to open the place up, it’s a pure iron gym. You won’t find any elliptical walkers or Hammer Strength equipment in this place, just tons of iron. So, after getting over the shock of the appearance of the place, we begin training. My friend explains that we are going to work out using a rest pause system. Sounds kind of pussy to me but I’m game, ready to show my stuff. We start out on a flat bench in the power rack with the safety bars placed just below the lowest point of where the barbell will rest on my chest in the down phase. We also have a plate underneath the bench to give it a very slight decline. Mind you, I’m benching close to 500 now, and consider myself to be pretty strong. So when he tells me to start with 315, I tell him he’s crazy. He assures me 315 is plenty heavy. He demonstrates the set. Ok, you are going to get 10 reps at a nice slow controlled pace, not bouncing the bar but controlling it through the entire range of motion. After you get 10, rack the bar for thirty seconds, then go for 7 more reps. After you that rest for another 30 seconds and get five more reps. He gets off the bench and I proceed with my set. Halfway through the set of seven I’m dusted. I think I got maybe five. I rack it and try to get my last five after thirty seconds of rest. Again, I’m dusted, maybe I got 2-3 with help. Obviously I’m embarrassed. I have to reduce the weight to around 245 because I’ve got two more sets. After resting long enough for him to do his set I go again. I’m getting my ass kicked here. At the end of this first exercise my fucking chest if on fire and we’ve still got two more exercises to go. Great. Next exercise, incline dumbbells. Same principal. Grabbing a moderately heavy weight (I think I started with 100’s, usually using 160’s before) I tried to get 10, 7, and 5 again for 3 sets. No dice. My chest is screaming stop, I can’t catch my breath, the room is spinning like a fucking top, and my friend is asking me if I’m ready for the next set. Sure, I say, trying not to throw up on my way to the next bench. Now were doing incline flys, and damn heavy incline flys at that. Now were only going for rest pause sets of 7,5,3 so I go with 100’s again. Mistake. Three sets of flys and were done. I made it. I’m alive. Thank you God. We tromp upstairs so I can hit some quad shots for my buddy, trying to regain some of the pride I’ve just swallowed several times over the course of this workout. After what seemed like an eternity I make it up this flight of stairs to the second level where some good sunlight is coming in through the windows. Ahh, he may have kicked my ass in that workout, I’m thinking, but wait till he sees this quad shot. I roll up my shorts and put my leg out in front of me, contracting that quad for all it’s worth. Immediately my leg locks up in a cramp from my depleted state and I fall flat on my face in agony. So much for getting my pride back.
The story I just told is true and was my first experience with hardcore training. Hardcore training is the kind of workouts that makes you want to cry. Hardcore training makes everyone in the gym look at you as if you were crazy, not because you’re screaming or yelling, but because you are busting your ass so hard that people think something is wrong with you. Hardcore training consists of the kind of workouts that you actually fear as they approach. Have you ever actually feared training? Have you ever literally felt as if something was seriously physically wrong with you after working out? Probably not. Now, I’ve seen some incredibly huge guys that are lazy sacks of **** when it comes to working out. Paul Dillet comes to mind. Now, those of smaller intellectual capacity might look at someone who trains like Dillet, look at his size, and think that the kind of training I advocate is unnecessary. However, Paul Dillet is a genetic freak, Paul Dillet is on every imaginable drug in unimaginable quantities. And, if I trained him, he would look twice as freaky as he does now if his heart didn’t explode first. My point is this. Brutal workouts are a prerequisite for brutal size. My training partner now learned some of his techniques from the same guy I did. He has taken it a step further. He has incorporated some drop sets and stretching into the workouts that make it even more brutal. We trained back the other day and it literally hurt to breath because my lats were expanding with every breath I took. My first workout with him was legs and by the end my whole body was shaking. The slight incline of the parking lot looked like Mount Everest to me. Who paved this goddamn parking lot I was screaming inside as I walked to my car. That’s how you should feel when your done training."
