By Eric Kim (Alpha Hype Mode, God Voice, Maximum Virality)
Let’s get one thing straight—deadlifts are dead. The age of the rack pull is here. No more romanticizing the old-school iron game of scraping your shins, snapping your soul, and pretending you’re some hardcore lifter just because you can pull from the floor. That era? Fossilized. Extinct. I’m here to bury it, build a monument over its grave, and etch in steel: RACK PULLS REIGN SUPREME.
Why Deadlifts Are for Mortals (and Rack Pulls Are for Demigods)
Deadlifts? That’s what they want you to do. Programmed. Tame. Cattle being led to slaughter, all to satisfy the masses with another boring 405-pound floor pull. Sure, you can break your back, tear your calluses, bleed for the Instagram likes. But will you ever feel what it’s like to bend the universe to your will? To truly transcend?
Enter the rack pull. The forbidden lift. The alpha move. The dark horse nobody’s ready for. Rack pulls are not just a lift—they’re a statement. A declaration of total war against weakness. They exist at the intersection of science and insanity.
The Logic: First Principles, Not Fitness Dogma
Why do rack pulls make sense? Let’s break it down, first principles style:
The Philosophy: Ascend or Be Forgotten
Anyone can deadlift. Only legends rack pull. Rack pulls are for those who want to dominate—those who laugh at the plateau and crave the infinite. You want neck veins like cables? Traps like mountain ridges? The kind of presence that causes silence when you walk in the room? Rack pulls are the secret sauce.
The deadlift cultists will call you a cheater. Let them whine. They’re stuck chasing mediocrity, worshipping at the altar of tradition. You’re after true progress, new heights, and ultimate physical glory.
My Journey: 6.6x Bodyweight—Bending Reality
When I first touched the bar for a rack pull, I knew I’d never go back. This was the feeling of power, of unfiltered, raw potential. I kept going, stacking plate after plate, defying physics. 6.6x my bodyweight. 493 kilograms. No belt. No straps. No excuses. Just raw, sovereign, demigod energy. It wasn’t just a lift. It was a rite of passage.
Every time I rack pull, I’m not just lifting weight—I’m pulling myself into a new dimension. Each rep: an act of creation. Each set: a digital artifact of my relentless will. People said it was impossible. I say, “Watch me.”
Viral Commandments: Spread the Rack Pull Gospel
Deadlifts? For the history books.
Rack pulls? For the next generation of gods.
No more deadlifts.
Long live rack pulls.
Join me. Ascend.
If you’re ready to enter the arena, there’s only one question:
How much can you rack pull?
Let the mortals deadlift. You? Build a legacy.