C.S. Sloan's Integral Strength

     Anyone familiar with the writings of Bradley Steiner (he wrote a lot of good stuff for the old Iron Man magazine back in the ‘70s), might be surprised that he actually recommended a form of split training.   He called it the “Rugged Size and Strength Split Program.”   I have good feeling that it was the only split program he ever wrote about.      So, what’s this program look like?   We’ll take a look at the major tenets of the routine, then I’ll offer some suggestions for making the routine work for you.   These suggestions will be based on both my own observations and those of Bradley Steiner.      Steiner said that this routine might be better described as a “divided” workout schedule instead of a “split” program because you divide up a total body workout and you don’t use anything close to what’s normally considered a split routine.   Here’s how the thing works:   On three non-consecutive days each week (Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, for example) you perform the fol

     Starting with the current post, I thought I would do a mini-series on how the "old-time" bodybuilders used to train.  In doing so, I also thought I would start with what I consider the greatest of the old-time mass tactics:  one-exercise-per-bodypart training.      When I first began to lift weights seriously (which was sometime in my high-school years; I'm 35 now, so you do the math), the bodybuilders that I loved were the ones that—even then—were considered the "old-timers."  I remember seeing pictures of Freddy Ortiz, Don Howorth (above), and Marvin Eder; I was amazed by their look.  For one, they definitely looked strong (which they were), but they also had excellent size, shape, and symmetry—small waists, large calves, boulder-sized shoulders; the whole "x-frame" look.  But—and I think this is what I still love about them—they didn't appear to be cardboard cutouts of one another.  They all had different "looks."  They were

     On my old blog, I had an article dealing with using the 3 to 5 method for gaining muscle mass and strength.  Recently, a reader e-mailed me wanting to know if I would re-publish that one on this blog.  Unfortunately, I don't have that other blog saved, and (to be honest) I don't remember what all I wrote on that other entry.  And so... that brings us to the post you are now looking at on your computer screen.      The 3 to 5 method became popular through the writings of Pavel Tsatsouline. (Pavel has to be, by the way, one of the most innovative writers out there when it comes to building strength, power and muscle mass; and, oh yeah, he's also the guy who singlehandedly made kettlebells popular in the states.)  Pavel's method - if I'm correct - meant performing 3 to 5 exercises for 3 to 5 sets of 3 to 5 reps.  You then trained every 3 to 5 days.      Mine was/is a little different.  Pick 3 to 5 "core" exercises.  These should be the "more bang fo

     It used to be called—hell, it still might be—"instinctive" training.  I don't like that.  There really is nothing instinctive about it.  Instinct implies that it is something you are born with, something innate within you that can tell  you how to do it.  Now, perhaps there is that something  within you, and within me, and within each of us that can tell us how to do it.  But it has to be learned .  So maybe we should call it "learned instinctive" training, but I still don't like that.  (By the way, perhaps some people are born with this ability to train in such a fashion and achieve fantastic, mind-blowing results.  The same way that you couldn't teach Mozart how to play, or Van Gogh how to paint—it was just what they were.  But even then you are left with guys—and gals—who probably can't teach anyone else what they know or what they do, or how they do it.)      Dave Draper called it "freestyling."  That's getting closer to what I

     If you're looking for a program to pack on the muscle mass and the power, or if you're looking for a program to bust you out of the (dreaded) plateau you have encased yourself within, look no further.  Sometimes, you just have to go back to the basics.      A lot of time when lifters go back to the basics they end up doing some crappy, gutless routine where they train their whole body with something along the lines of 2 to 3 sets of 10 to 12 reps.  They got the full-body routine part right, but the rest of it pretty much blows.  Enter Old-School bodybuilding; the kind of full-body programs that used to be employed by the likes of Anthony Ditillo, Reg Park, and Marvin Eder.  We're talking the real friggin' deal.      Okay, I'm not going to waste your time with any rambling.  Let's get right to what the "real deal" actually looks like.  Here are my "rules" for Old-School Bodybuilding:      1. Use a full-body workout 3 days each week.  The

     "Are you on a training program or are you working out?"  These words were uttered by that great immortal of the iron game, the one and only Vince Gironda.  I have always found this quote to be the most important one for training success—and probably the reason why it has been so often uttered by trainers other than just me.      Just "working out" won't cut it.  Never has.  Never friggin' will.  No way.  No how.  You must be on a training program.  Ideally, you must be on a training program that is built around achieving your specific goals.      Which brings us to the title of this post.  What are your training goals?  No doubt they change over the years.  They have definitely changed for me.  When I first started training, I wanted one thing and one thing only: to be as muscularly big as humanly possible.  And, you know what?  I achieved this goal by eating everything in sight (and making sure that I consumed plenty of protein along the way), taking t

Just Bow Putting my right and left hands together as one, I just bow. Just bow to become one with Buddha and God. Just bow to become one with everything I encounter. Just bow to become one with all the myriad things. Just bow as life becomes life.      Kosho Uchiyama's final poem, completed on the day that he died.      Kosho Uchiyama has long been my favorite of the modern day Zen masters.  Trained in the Soto lineage of Zen (Soto is one of the two main branches of Zen in Japan; the other is the Rinzai tradition), he seemed to "get it" better than any of the other Zen masters of the late 20th century.  Often crude, earthy, and witty, his style was simply more down to earth than others I have read.      My favorite of his books is "Opening the Hand of Thought."  It contains in it one of the most profound explanations of what good religion should look like.  I call this way of approaching religion—and approaching life, for that matter—the 4th way.  By this, I mea