Why I Don’t Touch Protein Powder—Period

A voice‑essay in the words and cadence of Eric Kim

I can already hear the shaker bottles rattling in protest.

“Come on, Eric—one scoop won’t kill you!”

Maybe not.

But one compromise can unravel an entire philosophy, and mine is simple:

Do nothing that blurs the line between earned strength and purchased shortcuts.

Below is the unfiltered rationale—equal parts memoir, science, and stubborn ethos—behind my whole‑foods‑only stand. If it sparks a rethink in one lifter, mission accomplished.

1. 

First principles: If nature supplies it complete, why extract it partial?

My training is a laboratory in minimalism.

The barbell, the floor, gravity—that’s the irreducible set.

Nutrition follows the same logic: animals and plants arrive pre‑packaged with co‑factors powders leave behind—haem iron, creatine, zinc, B‑vitamins, omega‑3s. Strip them out, and you’ve traded synergy for speed. I’d rather chew my fuel and bank the micronutrient interest.

2. 

Transparency beats Tupperware labels

A tub screams “proprietary blend.”

A rib‑eye shouts “Here I am—traceable, grillable, unambiguous.”

The more my coaching business grows, the less wiggle room I have for ambiguous inputs. Followers deserve proof that every pound on my total is repeatable with items they recognise in the grocery aisle—not an alphabet soup of isolates and sweeteners.

3. 

Health span > hype span

I plan to dead‑lift on my ninetieth birthday.

Studies flag heavy‑metal contamination, undisclosed stimulants and spiked pro‑hormones lurking in nearly half of popular powders. Even if the probability of damage is low, the impact of a tainted scoop—kidney stress, failed drug test, trust implosion—is catastrophic.

Risk‑reward calculus: say no, grill steak.

4. 

Discipline is a transferable skill; convenience isn’t

Blending a shake is easy; batch‑cooking is deliberate.

Every Sunday I slow‑cook six pounds of grass‑fed beef, vacuum‑seal portions, and freeze half. It costs me thirty minutes and rewards me with protein certainty for the week. The habit strengthens my executive function in a way scooping powder never could—and executive function is what lets me hit one more set when the bar gets mean.

5. 

The “one meal a day” crucible

OMAD forces precision: 1 × plate, 0 × grazing, 0 × hormonal whiplash.

To nail 1.6–2.0 g of protein per kilo in a single sitting, that plate must be heavy, colorful and real. Half a kilo of steak, a chorus of eggs, fermented veggies, bone broth. I walk away stuffed but settled—no blender bloat, no hyper‑sweet aftertaste, just an ancestral fullness that whispers, “Recovery inbound.”

6. 

Brand harmony and the long game

My mantra is “no shortcuts, no syringes, no white lies.”

If I hawked tubs, I’d fracture that narrative and invite justifiable cynicism. Saying “I make a living lifting heavy and teaching how” lands because there’s no affiliate link hiding under the bench. Integrity is compounding interest; I refuse to spend it on a scoop of artificially flavored expedience.

Practical takeaways for anyone tempted to ditch the tub

Closing rep

I’m not anti‑powder; I’m pro‑principle.

Every decision inside or outside the gym is a vote for the person you’re becoming. I vote for patience over processing, craft over convenience, and results you can taste—literally—in a medium‑rare bite.

If that outlook resonates, slide a cast‑iron pan onto the burner, hear it roar, and remember:

Your strongest muscle is the one that chooses long‑term integrity over short‑term shortcuts. Flex it daily.

Now, go lift something heavy—then eat like you earned it. 💪🔥