One of the most popular presenters on the strength coaching speaker circuit is Cal Dietz M.Ed., CSCS. He is best known for Triphasic Training, a book he co-authored with Ben Peterson. Dietz’s program was advertised as “The pinnacle of sports performance training,” so I decided to take a closer look.

Because just about anyone can write a book (and this one appears to be self-published), I first wanted to know who had used this workout system. Dietz’s marketing machine did not disappoint, as many collegiate and professional strength coaches endorsed it. One believer is Scott Williams, an exercise physiologist who works with Golf Australia and the PGA of Australia. Williams said Triphasic Training is one of the best books on strength and conditioning he has ever read, and he admired Dietz’s use of scientific research.

Moving on, I consulted with Mr. Google and learned that Dietz built his training system on a foundation of principles with names I had never heard of. Here are a few:

• Principle 1: Precision AlloAdaptive Modulation
• Principle 8: Toe Glute Reflex Sequencing Principle
• Principle 10: Reflexive Trimetric Method
• Principle 13: Dynamic Power Potentiation Cycling Methods (DPPC)
• Principle 14: Neuro-Gate Optimization
• Principle 17: Muscle Tonus Escalation (MTE)/Tonus Creep
• Principle 19: Isometric Pulse Wave Velocity Principle
• Principle 21: Tendomuscular Adaptive Sequence Model
• Principle 29: Free-Thinking Mind and Spirit

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As just trying to pronounce these titles was giving me dain bramage, I decided it would be best to start reading the Triphasic Training book from the beginning. I got stuck on Section 1. It was here that Dietz recounted one of the biggest upsets in Iron Game history, which occurred in the 1972 Olympics.

The Rise of the Giant Killers

It was a foregone conclusion that the Russians, with their lineup of world champions and world record holders, would clinch the team title in Munich. Of the nine bodyweight classes contested, the Big Red Machine was expected to capture five (along with some change with silver and bronze medals). Not quite.

When the last flakes of chalk had settled, the Russians earned three gold medals, one silver, and one bronze. It wasn’t enough, as the small country of Bulgaria, led by Head Coach Ivan Abadjiev, secured three gold and three silver medals to clinch the team title. How could this happen? Dietz shared his thoughts.

Dietz, citing compelling tabular data, asserted that the Bulgarians’ enhanced performance was due primarily to increased training volume. Consequently, Dietz said that after the Olympics, the Russians significantly increased their training volume. This change paid off, big time!

The Russians dominated the weightlifting competition at the 1976 Olympics, capturing seven gold medals and one silver. Bulgaria had a strong showing, winning two gold medals, three silvers, and one bronze. Dietz said the Russians also increased their training volume across many other sports, resulting in more medals. Lesson learned.

Nice story. Now let me share my version of why the Bulgarians succeeded in 1972.

In the 75-kilo class, Russia’s Vladimir Kanygin posted a personal best total of 477.5 in 1971, lifts that would have earned him a silver medal. He had a 5kg lead after the Olympic press, so he was on track for a medal, but lost any chance to score team points when he missed all of his snatches.

In the 82.5 class, Russia’s Valery Shary and Boris Pavlov were expected to capture gold and silver. In April 1972, Pavlov totaled 515 to set the world record, and the following month, Shary surpassed that result with 527.5, along with a world record snatch of 158.5 in July. Both failed to register a successful lift in the Olympic press, leaving the door open for Leif Jenssen of Norway to claim gold with a 507.5 total.

The 90-kilo class featured David Rigert, a superstar in the sport who ultimately broke 65 world records. Rigert had a five-kilo lead after the Olympic press and started the snatch competition after everyone else had finished. Unexpectedly, Rigert failed to complete any of his snatches, allowing Andon Nikolov of Bulgaria to become champion with a total of 525, well behind Rigert’s personal best of 562.5.

Stancho Penchev was Bulgaria’s entry in the 110-kilo class, but he failed to total. However, his contribution to team scoring would have been insignificant. His best total (that I could find) would put him tied for 10th place with Frank Capsouras of the US.

In short, if the Russian lifters had equaled (or come close to) their previous bests, they would have won five gold medals and Bulgaria two. Bulgaria would have captured more silver medals, but that would not have earned enough team points to surpass the Russians.

What is not so obvious is why the Russians would dramatically change their training volume because of poor coaching decisions, such as starting their athletes too high, or being overtrained going into the competition. Addressing this latter issue, one potential solution could have been to lower the training volume in the period leading up to the Olympics. But there’s more to this story.

After the 1972 Olympics, the Olympic press was eliminated from competition, leaving only the snatch and the clean and jerk. The removal of the Olympic press freed up more time for the other two classic lifts, as a significant portion of the training volume for the three lifts had been dedicated to the press. However, comparing the training volume of competitions that involve two lifts versus those that involve three is comparing apples to oranges. One reason is that training for the Olympic press often involves more auxiliary lifts, which are usually performed for higher repetitions, further increasing the overall training volume.

Volume: Too Much of a Good Thing

Deitz’s claim that Russian weightlifters increased their training volume after the 1972 Olympics puzzles me, as he often cites Russian sports science research. Many Russian sports scientists claim that continuously increasing training volume leads to diminishing returns and ultimately results in a decline in performance. One of these scientists is Arkady Nikitich Vorobyev, a two-time Olympic gold medalist in weightlifting.

To review, volume refers to the number of repetitions, intensity refers to the amount of weight relative to a one-repetition maximum, and load refers to the total amount of weight used. In his 1978 textbook, Vorobyev stated that the volume of training is not as important as its intensity.

“The planned tendency in recent years to sharply increase the training load can be seen as a negative phenomenon,” says Vorobyev. He added that such an approach “most often leads to overtraining, overstraining, increases the number of injuries, shortening the sporting life of the lifter.” (FYI: The high-volume Bulgarian workout Dietz provided did not include the Olympic press, so it would not have been performed leading up to the 1972 Games.)

A classic periodization model developed by Russian sports scientist Leonid Matveyev starts with high volume and low intensity, progressing to high intensity and low volume. However, this model was created for beginners. Matveyev stated that there is an optimal cut-off point for volume, and advanced athletes should concentrate on increasing intensity.

After the Olympic press was dropped from competition, coaches had to revise their approach to recruitment. The athletes who excelled in the three-lift competition often did not reach the highest levels in the two-lift competitions. This was because the press relied more on upper-body strength and less on total-body explosiveness and athleticism. Let me give you an extreme example.

Russia’s 110-kilo champion Jaan Talts broke 10 world records in the press, finishing with a best of 211. Talts snatched 164 kilos during his win at the 1972 Olympics, whereas that year in the USSR Championships, comrade Pavel Pervushin snatched a world record 175 but only pressed 185 kilos. After Munich, Pervushin became the 1973 World Champion, as his weaker lift was dropped from competition.

It was also believed that after the 1972 Olympics, weightlifters who excelled in the Olympic Press would be more drawn to the sport of powerlifting. This was certainly true in the US, and it’s also true that the Russians would later excel on the world stage in powerlifting.

I must emphasize that Coach Abadjiev had an extraordinary career, producing 12 Olympic gold medals and 57 World Championships. Defeating the Russians for team titles remained a challenge, as they had a significantly larger genetic pool to select athletes and considerable financial support. Nonetheless, Abadjiev’s training methods evolved and were markedly different from those used by the Russians – it was not just about volume. Let me expand on this point.

Whereas the Russians performed dozens of exercises, many of which could be considered bodybuilding movements, after the 1972 Olympics, the Bulgarians focused on the snatch, the clean and jerk, and the squat. That’s about it. Another difference was that they lifted higher training loads, often reaching their maximums several times a day!

In 2010, I had the opportunity to interview Abadjiev in person. I asked him why he didn’t include more lifts in the 70-75 percent intensity range to work on speed, as explosiveness was so crucial in the two-lift competitions. Abadjiev said that he was not interested in lifting light weights fast – he wanted his athletes to lift heavy weights fast. There is also considerable research, available in Russian weightlifting papers translated by the late Bud Charniga, that suggests lifts representing about 92 percent of maximum strength have the most transfer to the snatch and clean and jerk.

Dietz said that although Abadjiev’s methods worked for weightlifting, they didn’t work for his athletes due to the stress on their recovery systems. He suggested this was partially due to the Bulgarians’ use of anabolic steroids. Dietz said the Bulgarians were open about their use of these drugs in the 70s and 80s, although I find this hard to believe based on what happened at the 1988 Olympics.

After two of their lifters were caught doping in Seoul, the Bulgarians withdrew the rest of their team from the competition. A UPI article reported, “The Bulgarian Olympic Delegation said it would investigate the cause of the irregularities and also take stern measures against the trainers and the doctor of the weightlifting team.”

Speaking of politics, if you’ve seen the 2017 documentary Icarus, you'll know that the Russians had some dirty laundry with doping control that ultimately caught up to them. (Fun Fact: In the 2004, 2008, and 2012 Olympics, Russian men won only a single gold medal in weightlifting.)

Getting back on track, it wasn’t an increase in training volume that led to the Bulgarian victory; it was simply a poor performance for the Russians. Had their coaches been more conservative in choosing their attempts, Dietz wouldn’t have a story to tell or a new training narrative to promote.

Despite my skeptical attitude, I continued reading. After all, you can learn something from just about anyone. So, moving on, let’s break down the basics of Triphasic Training, starting with its name.

A Question of Balance

The athletic fitness textbook Supertraining by Professor Yuri Verkhoshansky and Mel Siff, Ph.D., was published in 1993, whereas Triphasic Training was published in 2012. Verkhoshansky and Siff discussed a concept called “the triphasic nature of muscle action,” and this is the earliest reference I could find on this topic.  

Verkhoshansky and Siff explained that all athletic movements consist of three types of contractions: eccentric, isometric, and concentric. Their message was that understanding the qualities of each type of contraction should influence how strength coaches and personal trainers design workouts.

In many of his workouts, Dietz uses a four-digit formula to describe the tempo of a set. Giving credit where it’s due, strength coaches Ian King and Charles Poliquin wrote about manipulating the phases of muscle contraction in the late 1980s in the journal Sports Coach. King developed the three-digit formula, while Poliquin added the four-digit formula, representing a pause after the concentric contraction.

On a larger scale, one training model Dietz presented was a three-stage program in which a single type of contraction was emphasized for several weeks at a time. Thus, the first stage focused on eccentric emphasis, the next stage on isometrics, and the last stage on concentric contractions. I would question spending so much time in the first two phases because there is an inverse relationship between movement velocity and mechanical tension.

Slow eccentric and isometric contractions can alter the function of tendons. In a 2013 study on the squat published in the European Journal of Applied Physiology, researchers found that tendons “act as a power amplifier at light loads and a more rigid force transducer at heavy loads.” Further, Russian sports scientist A. I. Falameyev stated that workouts involving slower types of muscle contraction can negatively affect joint mobility and the elasticity of muscles and tendons. There’s more.

A study published in Experimental Physiology in 2015 concluded that bodybuilding methods impact an athlete's ability to generate maximal muscle tension. The researchers found that, compared to power athletes (such as sprinters), bodybuilding training may be “detrimental to increasing muscle fiber quality.”  

There’s one more issue with bodybuilding training. Excessive hypertrophy, which often results from eccentric and isometric training, influences the pennation angle of muscle fibers. This angle refers to the organization of the contractile components within muscle fibers.

Hypertrophy methods taken to the extreme alter the pennation angle of the fibers in relation to the tendons to which they are attached, making the muscles less efficient at producing force. As US Olympic Champion Norbert “Norb” Schemansky said when explaining the difference between weightlifters and bodybuilders, “One tries to look good, the other tries to do good!”

I don’t want to imply that I fully understand all of Cal Dietz’s extensive training methods – doing so would require weeks of dedicated study and a keg of coffee. That being said, I find many of Dietz’s ideas controversial, so I would approach the Triphasic Training program with a critical eye. As Bruce Lee said, “Absorb what is useful, discard what is useless, and add what is specifically your own.”

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References

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