Making the Mind Muscle Connection

A Muscle Parable

James wasn't getting any training traction and couldn't figure out why. It was easy for me to see why. He trained at the same time I did at the local steel house and any old timer who casually observed his training could pin the tail on this donkey in five seconds flat.

His sloppy, bounced bench presses looked liked belly heaves. His butt came so far off the bench on each rep that you could have driven a mini-van between hi glute and the bench surface. He would load up the weight belt when he did parallel bar dips, but his rep stroke was all of about four inches; he neither went down in his dips nor did he lock out at the top. His squats were the nose bleed variety, so named because of how sky high they were. He would load up the squat bar with impossible poundage, wear powerlifting knee wraps cinched so tight they cut off leg circulation and put on a weight belt so gargantuan he needed help buckling it. I doubt he dipped more than six inches on any squat rep. Ditto for his ridiculous leg presses: same lame procedure ... load about fifteen 45 pound plates on each side, wrap his knees, wear the gigantic belt and press the weight maybe six inches. He got a better back workout loading and unloading the leg press plates that his legs did pressing the weight. His cheat curls looked like reverse cleans and it is not exaggeration to say that his spinal erectors got more work than his sad little biceps. Triceps pushdowns required he use the whole stack, but the push traveled maybe three inches. Lateral raises were done with 60 pound dumbbells and he used more momentum to get the bells moving than an Olympic shot putter uses propelling the 16 pound steel ball 70 feet.

Plus the yelling: how could I possibly fail to mention his bloodcurdling screams accompanying the final reps of each set? It sounded as if the boy was having his fingers mashed with a 20 pound sledge hammer. His screams were impossible to ignore - which was the intended purpose - this kid was not only misguided in his training, but obviously starved for attention. I thought of each scream as a pathetic cry for help. Eventually, it grew old and the management made him an offer he couldn't refuse: cease and desist with the blood curdling screams, the loud cursing, his lifting chalk strewn everywhere - or find a new place to train.

When Tim the night manager told him one night to shut up or he was going to kick him out on the spot, the boy stumbled backwards like he'd been shot in the gut with a rifle. The screams and cursing, he protested, were a natural expression of his incredible effort. Tim held tough and from that point forward the kid moped around like a castrated steer. Without the screams, without the profanity, James was Samson shorn of his locks.

I was shocked when later that week the boy approached me and asked if I had a spare moment. I was taken aback; I'd never spoken a word to him and was mystified as to what he wanted. I make a long story short, James was actually re-examining his training efforts and asked if he could train with me! Essentially he asked if I would show him the training ropes. I was dubious, but he seemed sincere. I told him the only way I'd agree to this was if he trained exactly as I did. And no talking - the only talking would be by me. I neither wanted or needed his input. He would play the part of the compliant deaf-mute training partner. I told him to show up the following Monday at the appointed time and we'd hit a chest and triceps workout. He agreed. I secretly decided to drive him into the ground; not purposefully or maliciously, but I would not compromise my own training efforts.

Normally when introducing a well-intentioned beginner to my style of training, I would be nice and ease them into the game. I would not ease this potty mouthed youth into my style of training: I would throw him into the dep end of the pool and see if he could swim. His problem (in a nutshell) was that he'd been so poundage crazy he'd shortened his rep strokes to next to nothing. His range-of-motion was nonexistent and his technique so sloppy that he wasn't coming within a country mile of working the targeted muscle.

When I spoke to him about "zeroing in on the muscle" or making "the mind muscle connection" it was like trying to describe the Space Shuttle to a Brazilian rainforest tribe member. He scratched his head and scrunched up his face as I described proper bench press technique. Not only would he keep his ass on the bench for each and every rep, but he would also pause the poundage on his chest before firing it skyward. He started to protest when after a warm up set I loaded the bar to 185. He indicated that he was "easily" capable of 250 for reps. "Not any more." I said.

He struggled with 185 for 5 reps using the proper pause technique. Ditto for incline dumbbell presses, which I insisted be done strict and with a pause. His dumbbell flyes, which used to be indistinguishable from dumbbell bench presses, were now done so wide and so deep that the bells touched the floor. I noted that his chest was actually trembling as we segued into dips. He looked around for the weight belt. "I can do 10 dips with 90 pounds strapped on." He proudly proclaimed. "Not any more." I said. 

I made him drop all the way down and pause before pushing upward to a complete lockout. "Hold the lockout for a full second." I demanded. He made two full reps using only his bodyweight before collapsing on number three. By the conclusion of our third set of bodyweight dips, he was unable to do a single rep. Lying nose-breakers and overhead dumbbell triceps extensions were done with a full rep stroke and pee-wee poundage - since that was all he could properly handle. Triceps pushdowns were done with full ROM. I stood behind him and pinioned his elbows to his side to prevent him from using his old trick of heaving at the start to get the weight moving.

At the conclusion of our 70 minute workout he was shaking like he had malaria. I made him drink a triple serving of protein/carb powder in shake form and sent him home. I wondered if I'd ever see him again, I doubted it. The next day was leg day and James wandered in dazed and confused. "My pecs and triceps are so sore I can't lift my arms. I couldn't shave or comb my hair this morning." He moaned. "That's really too bad," I said, "because yesterday's chest and triceps workout is a happy-time picnic in the park with a gorgeous super model compared to what we're going to be doing today."

He looked positively frightened as we began full squats. Squats are hell. That's why they're so damn effective. I made the kid do something he'd never ever done before; go all the way down in the squat without any supportive gear. On his 1st set he reached for his knee wraps and lifting belt and I told him to stuff them right back into his gym bag. His 400 pound partial squats dropped faster than the stock market after the Enron collapse. He struggled with 185 and 205 was positively traumatic. I had to help him complete the 5th rep. "Oh my God, my legs are on fire!" He hissed. James was gulping air like he'd just run a marathon, but I made him do two more sets: 155x10 caused him to convulse so badly I thought he was going into a seizure.

Leg presses caused him to run to the bathroom and toss his breakfast. He wobbled out pale and shaking. I had made James take the sled down until his knees touched his chest. He locked out fully and two 45's per side were all he could handle. He looked white as a ghost. "Feel better?" I said. "No!" He moaned, clutching his gut. We finished off with calf raises super-setted with lying leg curls. I went on to standing calf raises and stiff-leg deadlifts. He sat in the corner curled up in a fetal position and called in sick to work for the next day.

He surprised me. I thought it at best a 10% proposition that he'd ever return, but he showed up a few days later ready to training shoulders. He still walked funny three days later. "I got home that night after leg training and had to sit down halfway up the three flights of stairs leading up to my apartment. I still walk like I am drunk.

On shoulder day the procedures were repeated and again the full range-of-motion exercises sent him reeling.

We performed five sets of standing dumbbell presses followed by five sets of press-behind-the-neck. His 60 pound lateral heaves turned into 10 pound super strict laterals. Now his screams were real and not for show. Back day finished the training week: let me just say that by the time we finished deadlifts, power cleans, rows, chins, shrugs and 9 sets of biceps spread over three different exercises, the boy was a ball of pain. "Be sure to eat a ton of protein this weekend." I said. Wordlessly he wobbled out the door.

The following Monday James showed up for the start of his second real training week. "I am still reeling," he said. "My body is torn to shreds from my neck to my calves ... I laid on the couch all weekend eating ... every muscle still aches." I smiled. He seemed battered, but buoyant. "I have never felt the degree of fatigue and muscle soreness I am now experiencing."

To his everlasting credit, James stuck with it. In three months he underwent an amazing physical transformation. The winning combination was full range power training and making the mind muscle connection - along with ample eating - all of which caused his body to explode. He packed on twenty five pounds of muscle and looked like Bill Pearl winning Mr. America in 1955. I told him, "You'll never survive this style of training unless you eat like you've never eaten before; without copious calories your body will collapse." He was firing down 5,000 calories per day.

Mind Muscle Lessons Learned

James packed on 25 pounds of muscle in 90 days and because he ate clean and kept up his early morning cardio, 95% of his gains were lean, fat-free muscle.

His training poundage increased rapidly after week one; this despite my insisting on technical perfection on every single rep of every single set. His recovery improved dramatically and eventually he was able to completely recover by the next raining session. "I think the biggest single thing I learned," he said in a reflective moment many months later over dinner, "was to make a mind muscle connection. I trained all sloppy and poundage crazy and never gave the mind muscle connection any thought. Until I began training with you I never had been really sore - I'm talking deep muscle soreness exactly on the targeted muscle. There is a real art in performing an exercise in such an exact fashion that the muscle you are supposed to be training actually feels it." Well no kidding.

Take a tip from James and crank back on the training poundage and establish the critical mind muscle connection. Are you able to pinpoint and target the exact muscle with the right exercise? Use an extended range-of-motion and a perfect technique to achieve muscle isolation. Unless you are able to do so, your foundation is built on sand. So take a tip from James: lose your ego and your preconceptions regarding how a person is supposed to look and act when they train. Establishing proper technical basics will be the smartest training move you can make. Trust me.

For more information on Purposeful Primitive training techniques check out the posts below.

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