Just back from the GBPF All England Championships. First of
all a huge thanks to Ian, Nate and Phil for getting up at 5.30am and making the
journey to support me and help out. Anyone who has competed in any strength sport
knows that a meet is physically and mentally exhausting and having people
around to deal with the little things really makes a big difference.
Most meet reports are just a string of context-less numbers.
It’s no surprise that non-lifters look at lifters obsession with chasing
numbers as an eccentricity bordering on mental disorder because the numbers obscure
the real story. If you only want the numbers I’ve posted them at the end. The story
is the actual report; it’s real long with a whole bunch of words so feel free
to skip to the bottom.
WARM-UP
This meet is the second time I’ve competed. The first time was
the South East Championship in Dec 2013. I had never really properly trained for powerlifting
until August 2013 so for my first meet I was just keen for the experience and
to set a total of any kind. In the end I totalled a novice 435@86kg (a wilks
co-eff of 283.4) but smashed a big PR on the deadlift at 205 – five kilos more
than my ‘lifetime goal’ - proving to myself that even half decent training for
a few months could demolish goals that had once seemed impossible.
The South East Championship, despite the pretensions, is
really only for fun and despite totalling less than 1000lbs I still finished in
the middle of my flight. The All-England; however, is a
more serious competition as the last and best opportunity for lifters looking
to qualify for the UK invitation-only nationals and international competitions
beyond; it’s also currently the only meet in the UK where anyone can turn up
and set a British record.
After a five am start – you should never have to see five
o’clock three times in any twenty four hour period – we arrived at Northampton
at eight thirty and I immediately weighed in at 90.8kg; a comfortable weight but
just short of the ideal for the <93 kilo class I was competing in. We then
retired to the canteen to pass the hour before lift-off in proper powerlfting
style by eating as much as possible. In an effort to develop a ‘Popeye spinach
special’ I’d prepared nearly a kilo of tuna, veg and cous cous. Confusingly,
after consuming a paltry half a kilo, instead of imbuing the power to
lift improbably large objects and smoke a corncob pipe I instead developed the
power to stretch an elastic waistband to breaking and sit very still.
After summoning the strength to waddle back to the meet – it’s
all about the functional strength gains y’know – I got a decent half an hour
warm-up of ‘fat yoga’ in because Phil said it makes you look keen or something
(pretty sure Rambo doesn’t ‘warm-up’ mate unless we’re talking about the body
count in First Blood).
SQUAT
I opened at 160kg which is a little higher than I’d
anticipated opening but not a weight I struggle with in the gym. The lift was
good - fast and technically sound - but pulled a red light from the right-hand
judge for depth, this threw my head into a spin as my main issue on the squat
is dropping too deep and attempting to bounce out into a good morning so I’ve never really had to
worry about depth before. The centre and left judges passed the lift so it went
on the board by a two-to-one verdict – all good on the surface but troubling
underneath as you don’t want to rely on a majority vote to pass your opening
lift.
Second attempt at 170kg felt fast with a strong
finish, no hips flying up into an abortion of a good morning. “Good lift mate”
and a pat on the back from the spotters. Turn around to see two red lights for
depth – this time from the centre and right hand judge. Disaster. Have I been
kidding myself all these months of training? Have I become the fat kid of the
powerlifting world: a high squatter?
Head back in gear for the third attempt: 170kg again. Big
hit of ammonia to shut down the doubting forebrain and get the meathead
hindbrain back in the driving seat. Twist and lock my shoulders in as tight as
I dare, walk the weight out - feels about a hundred kilos this time - drop and
rise without hesitation and smoke the lift with no doubt and three white lights.
Eight months of hard work restored in three seconds but forget it, time to move
on.
BENCH
The ammonia has now worn off and the book-learnin’ forebrain
is back in command; the precision gaze of the judges is flooding back over me
red-lighting every individual muscle tissue that dares to deviate from
perfection. The (IPF-standard) bench is the most technical powerlift by far and
conveniently also the lift where I have the worst technique so I ask the guys
to lower my opener to 95kg. Phil and Ian are shouting that this is baby weight
and at barely above my bodyweight it’s hard to disagree.
Back in gear for the opener, time to smoke this and get back
in form. Smash 95kg down and up so fast I think the loaders have forgotten how
to count; so fast the judges don’t have time to call the commands. Don’t even
need to look up to see three red lights. Forebrain back in control and furious,
this is simple stuff that we’ve drilled for over a year. From their expressions
Phil, Ian, and Nate look as though I’ve just ripped off my singlet and taken a shit
on the platform and, honestly, that would be less embarrassing. Ninety pound
sub-juniors in their first gym meet don’t make this mistake.
I’m now in danger of bombing the bench; this means I’ll be
going home before the deadlift with no total; and that means that after eight
months of hard work on the deadlift, a five am start, and half a tank of petrol
my only consolation will be two reasonable squats and an awkward conversation about
how there’s always a next time. Up the second bench attempt to 100kg; even if
my chest blows open and my eyes explode I’m going to crush this and build a
foundation for my deadlift. All commands followed, bar moves like a plastic
replica to three white lights, everything is back in place.
For the third attempt, my head’s in such a spin I tell the
guys to ask for any weight they think appropriate and I’ll go out and lift it
blind. Attempt number three feels good on the way down, two second pause, up
and then stuck at the sticking point between shoulder and triceps. Spotters
come in and it’s a no lift on 110kg. Don’t care, I’ve benched 110kg before and
I’ll do it again soon. All I care about now is that I get to deadlift.
DEADLIFT
The deadlift is the power lift. The squat and the bench
require refined technique, years of practise and an ingrained understanding of
human biomechanics. The deadlift is no holds-barred no rules and regulations
fight between you and gravity. A challenge to pick up the heaviest weight you
can without snapping into two pieces like a human toothpick.
I’m flying at this point as I love deadlifting. I open at
200kg without hesitation and crush it like a training weight.
Next up 212.5kg, comes up easy to just below the waist, slight
pause to lock out the shoulders and then the judge is calling down. Three white lights and a
good lift. I’m ecstatic but my eyes white out and I’m close to vomiting as my
blood pressure crashes back to normal levels. I tell Phil to request any weight
he thinks I can lift for a final attempt.
Third attempt. Mentally I’m ready to smash 230 and beyond
but three hours of max effort lifting and stress has racked up a substantial
debt. My vision is still swimming from the second attempt and my right shoulder
and lower back have had enough. 220 goes straight to knee height and stops, the
bar starts to drift away from my knees and lower back rounds. I’m done; no
lift.
WARM DOWN
Final lifts were a 170kg squat, a 100kg bench and a 212.5kg
deadlift for a 482.5@90.8 kg total and a 306.7 wilks coeff. A 47.5kg
improvement on December and a 23.3 wilks gain.
Still short of the 500kg total I’d hoped for but finally
able to officially join the 1000lb club and a 40kg squat improvement from my
first meet last December. Bench is the biggest let down with no gain from
December, but as consolation 100kg feels light and fluffy where before it was
a horrible grind. I’ve benched a lot more in training and I will do it on a
platform in the near future.
Deadlift is a 7.5kg comp PR which might not seem like a lot
but every extra kilo is hard fought, with another inch past the knee I might
have sneaked 220 in. With decent training I’ll pass the next milestone, 227.5kg
(500lbs), next year.
Maybe it sounds like this meet didn’t go as I’d planned, and
to be honest it didn’t. It’s frustrating that I had to stick to weights I know
I can squat out of caution about depth instead of really cutting loose and
setting a bigger PR. The bench attempts were a mess but there is a seed of hope;
weights that were hard before are now simple even under the worst competition spotlight.
Constant pressure will break down any physical and mental weak points over time,
the rest is just staying dedicated in training and injury-free.
Overall I’m most satisfied with the 212.5 deadlift. A 7.5kg gain
might not sound like a lot and that’s why the numbers don’t tell the whole
story.
When I started lifting I thought if I trained hard I might
make 180 and with lucky genetics maybe a whopping 200 kilos. A year later I can
crush those weights without hesitation and have learnt how ignorant I was. The
strongest lifter in my flight today opened at 275kilos like it was a formality
and finished pulling more than 300; he’s still 50-100kg short of the real pros
and 160 short of the current greatest of all time. Weak people will tell you that
master lifters like that are genetically lucky or doped with magic in a syringe
or that greatness just fell into their lap and all they had to do was grab it
and hold on. Truth is these guys didn’t listen to the weak people around them and
just added a quarter of a kilo week after week until all those small increases moved
a weight people thought was beyond human capacity.
I hit some goals at the meet and missed others. It would
have been nice to demolish the lot and move on but nice isn’t a real test and the
longer you go without failure the more you forget what success really means.
In a nutshell this is why you should always put yourself to
the test. If you’ve read all these words then you clearly have some small spark of interest
in competing, use it! Anyone can turn the wheel in the gym with good days and
bad, cherry-picking PR month’s apart, adding excuses and rounding it all up into
progress. See what you can do when the crutches you’ve constructed are kicked
away; you’ll learn how much those crutches have been holding you back and, more
importantly, you might find you enjoy it.
NUMBERS
Dec 2013 S130 B100 D205 T435 BW86.6 Wilks283.4
Aug 2014 S170 B100 D212.5 T482.5 BW90.8 Wilks306.7
+gain of 47.5 kilos and 23.3 wilks points
Next meets in November 2014 & March 2015.
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