A while ago, I saw a Yuri Vlasov training montage on YouTube. Aside from everyone apparently wearing really baggy black sweatpants, I noted his training — a mix between Olympic weightlifting, gymnastics, and bodyweight shenanigans. Suffice to say, I fell in love. Deeply in love. So deep, that I started to examine Olympic weightlifting training and [...]
A while ago, I saw a Yuri Vlasov training montage on YouTube. Aside from everyone apparently wearing really baggy black sweatpants, I noted his training — a mix between Olympic weightlifting, gymnastics, and bodyweight shenanigans.
Suffice to say, I fell in love. Deeply in love. So deep, that I started to examine Olympic weightlifting training and gymnastics training — seeing what they had in common, seeing where I could potentially merge them into a comprehensive program for anyone that wanted to dabble in both. Becoming a movement mutant of sorts.
Turns out, they have so much in common my face nearly exploded. I dove in. Picking apart good pieces. Finding a way to play in both sandboxes.
This has been my passion for a long time. Tricking long solidified my admiration for cool things, so getting into something as majestic and graceful as Olympic weightlifting and gymnastics training was only natural. Combining all three? Perhaps the best decision of my life. (Hint: If you’re interested, you wanna sign-up here. Soon.)
Unfortunately, cleans and snatches took their toll on my formerly broken-to-pieces foot. (I should give it a name so I can reference it as “the bone structure formally known as ____.”) A never ending neuroma took over — a problem that persists in present day (basically every step I take is painful). Still can’t Olympic lift. Haven’t for almost a year.
The conundrum I faced: how would I continue pulling from the floor? Especially because I think pulling from the floor a ton of different ways (different grips, different speeds, etc.) is great for both performance and physique?
(It’s also my favorite thing to do without a doubt. I would do them daily, but I save that honor for front squats. Because I hate front squats. And, sometimes, it’s good to do things you hate.)
Snatch grip deadlifts were an obvious inclusion. Love those. Talked about them before, too. Laying the “ton of different ways” on top of that, we get snatch grip rows. And then there’s high pulls and low pulls.
But here’s one tweener that you probably aren’t familiar with. I fall in love with it more and more as the days go on: panda pulls. You’ve probably seen Chinese Olympic weightlifters do panda pulls, yet you haven’t put a name to the face.
Panda pulls are done to reinforce the reality that Olympic weightlifters have to violently pull themselves underneath of a free falling barbell — that’s why there’s an extreme downward recoil.
I’ve also found panda pulls to grow the upper back well. But, then again, all Olympic-style pulls (high pulls especially) tend to do that. Combine them with rows, chins, and other gymnastics hot sauce, and your back woes aren’t very woeful anymore. You probably have back bragging rights, if anything else. Panda pulls will also get you pulling at different speeds. Nothing wrong with learning how to lift heavy things quickly.
If you got some experience pulling from the floor, give them a go. Break from the floor slower and controlled. Once the bar passes the knees, rip the hips through. Come to full hip extension. Please. As the weight gets moving, elbows go to ceiling with the downward recoil — “pulling” yourself down. The arms don’t bend to row the weight or help with upward drive, they bend as an artifact of trying to get under the bar like you would in a real snatch.
And someone queue the spooky music please: good old Yuri Vlasov was doing these in the initial video. Coincidence? You tell me.
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Photo source: snatch lockout