It’s a little known fact that the eruption of Mr. St. Helens, and the continuing subterranean growls in the area, are purely mythic. What really happened up there in the land of perpetual rain and majestic mountains was that Doyle Kenady took a heavier than normal deadlift workout. It’s not a coincidence that those after-rumblings ceased on a certain day in April of this year.
A piece of equipment that has become increasingly common in recent years is the trap bar, that hexagonal device which has become the bane of many a lifter. An easy way to build up the quads and lower back, the trap bar first came into my consciousness when i began lifting in the early 2000s. An odd device, the thing kicked my ass as I attempted a meagre deadlift.
Since then, we’ve come to better terms to the extent that I began to wonder where this device came from. What was its original purpose? And how did it end up on a gym floor in Dublin? A series of questions that has led to today’s post.
Admittedly this is an exercise for your physical culture purist. Stemming from the early origins of physical culture in the late nineteenth-century, English style deadlifts are unlikely to be seen in your gym any time soon. Nevertheless, this style of lifting was hugely popular amongst British and European lifters of yesteryear. Used by Goliaths like Herman Goerner, this style of deadlifting was seen as inherently strict and the greatest measure of a lifter’s power.
That being the case, today’s short post will be addressing three simple questions. What is the history of the lift? How does one deadlift English style? And how can we incorporate it into our routines?
I have, I believe, been fairly open about my love of the World’s Strongest Man, specifically the opening decade of the competition. Whereas today’s competition is professional, modern and scientific, the contests of yesteryear were […]
Many years ago, before most of today’s weight trainees were even a gleam in their daddy’s eye, a fellow named John Y. Smith used to specialize in the one-handed deadlift. The late Harry Paschall, who used to write quite regularly for Iron Man Magazine in the 1950’s, had met Smith several years earlier and, in Paschall’s opinion, Smith’s hands looked like iron claws. Years of one-handed deadlifting with thick handled barbells had so thickened Smith’s finger tendons in the palm of the hand that those same tendons stood out like the webbing on a duck’s feet. Smith at the time was doing one-handed deadlifts in his exercise routine with about 400 pounds. Paschall, who could do almost 300 pounds in the same exercise, decided he could equal Smith’s performance without a whole lot of effort. Paschall made his living as an artist. After a few weeks of specializing on the lift he gave it up as he was afraid he would lose his artistic ability, the tendons in his hands were developing far more rapidly than he had expected. His hands too were beginning to look like “iron claws.”
A piece of equipment that has become increasingly common in recent years is the trap bar, that hexagonal device which has become the bane of many a lifter. An easy way to build up the quads and lower back, the trap bar first came into my consciousness when i began lifting in the early 2000s. An odd device, the thing kicked my ass as I attempted a meagre deadlift.
Since then, we’ve come to better terms to the extent that I began to wonder where this device came from. What was its original purpose? And how did it end up on a gym floor in Dublin? A series of questions that has led to today’s post.
It’s a little known fact that the eruption of Mr. St. Helens, and the continuing subterranean growls in the area, are purely mythic. What really happened up there in the land of perpetual rain and majestic mountains was that Doyle Kenady took a heavier than normal deadlift workout. It’s not a coincidence that those after-rumblings ceased on a certain day in April of this year.
Having previously looked at the history of the squat, bench press and even the smith machine, it seemed about time that we did a history of the deadlift. We’ve been putting this one off for quite a while, even looking at the Romanian Deadlift en lieu of the actual thing.
The stumbling block in approaching the history of the deadlift is the amount of smoke and mirrors surrounding one of the most popular exercises in the Iron Game. Someone writes something in a training book or blog and suddenly it becomes part of the popular lore. Actual research is a lot harder to come by. Nevertheless, it’s clear that deadlifts and variations on the deadlift have been around since time began. Man and woman kind has seemingly always displayed an insatiable desire to pick heavy things up from the ground.
For the sake of my sanity and timekeeping however, we’ll begin in with the eighteenth-century when a variation of the deadlift, of heavy lifting, briefly took England by storm.
Chances are at some point in your lifting career you’ve done a few sets of Romanian Deadlifts. From athletes to bodybuilders, thousands of muscle fanatics have used the exercise to bring up their hamstrings and lower backs. Given the popularity of the movement, you may be surprised to learn that this exercise is a relatively recent addition to weight training. Indeed, it was only discovered by the US in 1990.
Having previously covered the history of the squat and the bench press, today we’ll turn our attention to the Romanian Deadlift.
“Friends don’t let friends skip leg day.”
If you’re looking for some inspiration for your next leg workout then you’ve come to the right place.
Today we look at some of the greatest leg exercises that time has forgotten about.
They were invented by iron legends like Gironda and used by men like Arnie. Needless to say, they’re effective, they’re tough and they’re worth doing.
