Success isn’t guaranteed for any of us. No matter the time you spend or the sacrifices you make, no one is entitled to that euphoric feeling of victory. I like to think that success is the result of all the effort that accumulated throughout days of preparation. This is why whenever I dive into a new project I obsess over every detail to make sure I do everything “perfectly” or as close to perfect as possible.
I have always loved powerlifting from afar. I never thought I would ever be strong enough to feel comfortable on the platform and joining a competition. Nevertheless, by talking to a coach and being encouraged to dive headfirst into the world of powerlifting, I found myself training to better my lifts with the hopes of competing in a few months.
Starting powerlifting wasn’t easy. I had to face the reality that my form was far from optimal and I wasn’t fully aware of what my body was doing- thus limiting my own potential. I had to enter every training session with a mindful determination that there is always something to get better at.
At this point in my training, I had to depend on the promise of delayed gratification.I may not see it immediately, but every rep done inside the gym contributes to building my capacity to lift heavier weights in the long run. I may not look like I’m moving impressive numbers, but my ceiling for growth continued to rise.
Come the night before the meet, I was riddled with nerves. I wasn’t sure what to do with the excitement and anxiety that comes with the anticipation of a big event. I worried about not being strong enough. I worried about feeling defeated if I didn’t land a podium position. I worried about not completing my lifts or realizing that maybe I was not strong enough to compete in powerlifting.
Self-doubt echoed through my head and I had to learn how to sit with all this negativity. There was nothing I could do to get rid of them. The only path to a clear head is by addressing each fear as it comes. I learned how to lift properly only three months ago. I can’t expect myself to realistically win it all when my time in the sport is limited. I may not be the strongest in my category right now but I found it in myself to trust the process and join anyway. The fact that I’m showing up is already more than what I expected from myself. In order to be the best, I must be comfortable with being the worst.
For those unfamiliar, the powerlifting meet format starts with all the athletes doing their squats, bench presses, and deadlifts- in that order. An athlete is given 3 opportunities to lift their best numbers on each lift and 3 judges will be watching closely to make sure that each athlete meets all the requirements to call their movements “good lifts.” Your best numbers for each lift are then added to your “Total.” The athlete with the biggest Total wins the entire thing.
Before the squat round started, I realized everyone in that room probably lifted more than me. I felt a bit anxious because I felt like I didn’t deserve to share the platform with all these impressive athletes who lifted way more weight than I could. However, as soon as I heard my name be called to start my lift, I instinctively cleared my head and stared directly at the bar prepared for me. I look at the audience (admittedly not a huge crowd). I get under the bar and I hit my opener with relative ease. I thought that I would hang around the platform to make sure my life was considered good, but my movements were so smooth that I convinced myself that my life was undoubtedly “good.” I turned around without checking the lights and I heard the announcer validate my confidence.
As I was preparing for my second attempt, my doubts seemed to fade into the background. I just did something I never thought I would ever do. I got on a platform and squatted in front of three judges and an audience. I felt like I could do anything. I no longer cared for the numbers my competitors would hit. I don’t care about them anymore. I came here for myself and right now I’m confident that I can’t do anything today that will make me feel like I’ve lost.
My bench press was what I was personally most excited about. I made a promise that I would hit 100 kgs on my third bench attempt. I started with a 90 kg bench press and that moved relatively easily. The same can be said for my 95 kg second attempt. When my third attempt was announced. I heard that 100 kgs were loaded on the bar. Again, I was simply in the zone. I stared at the bar and I was ready to perform this very act that I played in my head a thousand times over.
I started the movement when the judge gave me the start signal. When I pressed it off my chest, I once again hit a sticking point midway through the motion. Like before, I fought for that rep like my life depended on it. I refused to let that bar move down. I refused to give up. I kept punching up and when it eventually rose, relief washed over me. I’ve proven to myself and everyone here that I will fight tooth and nail for every weight I want to move. It might not be the quickest but I’d like to believe that you can feel my heart through every struggle.
When deadlifts came around, I was admittedly exhausted. However, I wanted to finish strong. My first attempt at 150kg moved fast. The 165kg second attempt admittedly felt a bit slow off the floor but I didn’t want to have any regrets. Even though my coach said 170 kg should be a safe 3rd attempt, I knew I couldn’t forgive myself if I left even a kilo in my tank. I pushed for a 175 kg deadlift attempt. I got it off the ground, but it isn’t moving past the knees. I held on to it for as long as I could but my form was breaking down and I was losing breath fast. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t lift 175 kg to lockout.
Normally, I’d beat myself up for letting my hubris be my downfall. I should have settled for 5 kgs less. Maybe I would’ve had a perfect lifting record. However, I knew I wanted to go beyond what I thought possible. If I lifted that 170 kg, I would keep thinking of the 175 kg that could’ve been. Failing that third attempt validated the feeling that I left it all on the platform that day. I had nothing left. I failed but I confirmed that I could give it my all. Now I look to someday conquer that weight with ease.
My failed lift is now my next target. My top lifts are my new starting lines. I congratulated all the other athletes in my group because, though we were competitors, the support for one another was still evident. The powerlifting community is so supportive and abundantly welcoming. I had no regrets pouring my heart and soul into this prep.
I was most surprised at the fact that I wasn’t disappointed in myself. There are no “ifs” and “buts” in this sport. You are either strong enough to outlive everyone else or you’re not. The simplicity of the premise gives me solace. There’s nothing more I could have done to convert my first competition into a podium finish.
There is peace in the assurance that those who won deserved it and those who didn’t still fought for every lift they offered the platform. The barbell does not favor one over the other. The sport only considers your technique, experience, and of course, the extra ounce of adrenaline you can muster through gritted teeth.
