C.S. Sloan's Integral Strength

  Tips and Routines for Monstrous Pulling Power Here I am pulling over 500lbs in competition.  In the background (in the red singlet) is my Uncle Kirk, yelling encouragement, who made an appearance in my last "Deep South Mass and Power Chronicles."  This meet was around the same time as that essay's setting.      I received an email this morning from a reader curious about deadlift training after reading my last "Deep South Mass & Power Chronicles" on just that very thing.  The reader wanted to know if I could write an article that detailed out an "exact" training program as opposed to all of the "tips" that I sprinkled throughout the (only slightly) fictional conversation between me and my cousins.  At first, I thought, "sure, I can do that," but then I realized that I have already written some articles on this very thing.  And since I haven't done a "Thursday Throwback" as of late, I thought this would be a perfe

   The Mostly True Exploits and Tales of Bodybuilding, Powerlifting, and Other Strength Sports Across the South, from Texas to Alabama Chapter Two: Pulling Big A.K.A. The One in Texas with Deadliftin’, Tire-Flippin’ and Tobacco-Spittin’ Setting: East Texas, 2004      “Texas ain’t so bad,” Bubba said, about the time that we pulled up to the gate of my Uncle Kirk’s ranch in East Texas.  For Bubba, this was tantamount to a revelation.  Since we had left Mississippi, he hadn’t said a whole lot of good stuff about my home state.      “You changin’ your tune?” I asked, as we both got out of my truck.  I walked over to the gate to swing it open.  Bubba walked to the back of the truck, and the cooler full of ice-cold beer.      “Nah, Texas is too flat,” Bubba replied, as he cracked open a Budweiser.  “I’m just sayin’ that it ain’t so bad—it’s got some good-lookin’ gals, for instance.  But it needs hills.  And trees.  The only trees I seen so far are around ponds and lakes.”      I was ready to