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For those of you that don't know, Ronnie Coleman is a great big black man and the reigning 8-time Mr. Olympia. He's also insanely strong. How strong, you ask? Check the vids and prepare to be pretty damn impressed at his mutant power:
Leg Presses with 2300(!)lbs.
Dumbell Bench Presses with 200lb. Dumbbells. Count the reps.
800lb. Squats.
800lb. Deadlifts.
I could take him.
How long until his muscles just fucking snap and roll up like a broken window shade?
Holy mother of fuck
I saw a vid of him once doing T-Bar rows with so much weight that the bar fucking snapped. If I can find it I'll post it.
He doesn't have arms. He has trees.
Couldn't find the vid, but here's an article about the bar (actually the handle) snapping:
Quote:
Having trained in a few hardcore pits, I've used a makeshift T-bar before, but nothing could prepare me for what I'm about to witness. Coleman jams one end of a barbell into a hole in the corner, laying it out at a 45-degree angle to both walls. Dobson stands near the corner while Coleman hooks a V-handle under the loaded end. The first plate is 100, followed by eight 45s for a total of 555 (counting the bar, most of which is lifted).
"Yeah, buddy!" Coleman says to himself. Yanking the weighted end of the bar up violently, he rows 10 times. Afterward, the weight falls back into the floor's deepening cavity, throwing up a cloud of cement dust and tossing off plates. Spiders scurry for cover. Three minutes later, he repeats the set. Is it any wonder he has the best back ever?
We somehow manage to get two more plates on, although the last one is more off than on. The long row of plates looks comical. I count them again: 11 plates, the first one 100, for a total of 645 pounds (counting the bar). Few mortals could budge 645. Mr. Olympia is going to T-bar row it. "Ain't nothin' but a peanut," Coleman tells himself, but anyone can see it's a damn big peanut. "Yeah, buddy! Light weight!" He wraps his straps and gloved hands around the V-handle and begins jerking the bar up. One rep. Two reps. Three reps. Four. Five ...
Without warning, the weight crashes back to the decimated floor, throwing up a lung-choking cloud. The V-handle snapped midway through his set! "God-darn it," Coleman says. Although musical curses thunder incessantly wherever he goes--gym, house, Escalade--this is as close as I hear him come to swearing in the two days Kevin Horton and I spend with him. Coleman kicks at the broken handle, freeing it from the barbell it's tangled around. Mr. Olympia took on a ridiculously dangerous amount of weight. The weight lost.
Gee, I wonder if he does steroids...
He does your mom.
That was funny. Not. :)