True Life: I’m addicted to my briefs…
The point of this article is not to argue or push powerlifting ideology on anyone. But instead, I want to share why lifting in gear, suits or whatever you wish to call it, was so appealing to me. I currently train as a “Raw” lifter but still get the itch to throw on a pair of briefs from time to time. As I know it all too well, it is impossible to break down the powerlifting dogma that is associated with geared/equipped lifters. Whether this came from petty jealousy or severe lack of admiration for this sport, we as “society of powerlifters” are doomed based on these principles.
I started out in powerlifting as a “Raw” lifter (I wore a belt and wrist wraps). I always thought of myself a strong person, but when I saw people weighing 50lbs less than me and squatting over 200lbs more than me, I was in dumbfounded. But what makes me different than the countless number of gym goers than troll and plague our sport, is that instead of condemning these people, I asked how it was done? It was at this point I realized that they were lifting with equipment. Well like any rational person, I understood the differences between them and myself, but more importantly I focused on the similarities we had, to lift the most amount of weight possible!
It was never a question about who is stronger, it is always about lifting the most weight. Early in my powerlifting career I was privileged enough to surround myself with great ambassadors of the strength sports, they ranged from strongmen, all forms of powerlifters, weightlifters and highland game athletes. This allowed me to understand the strengths and weakness of each sport and to empathize with the difficulties they had to overcome. As I said earlier I was a “Raw” lifter, but when I began to train with equipped lifters, I decided to step into the dark side of powerlifting. I threw on an old singly ply centurion suit and knee wraps, a combo that is laughable by today’s standards, but it felt like a suit of armor. That day, I worked up to roughly 800lbs’ my first time in a suit and I was lifting 200lbs over anything I had ever attempted. After that I was hooked.
The next part of this article describes one of my proudest achievements in my powerlifting career, SPF Nationals, June or July of 2010. They day I broke the 1000lb squat barrier! I later went on to squat on my third attempt 1035@219, I believe is still the top 3 squat in the Open 220 Multiply Class. Very few people in this world will ever have the privilege or for lack of a better term, the balls to step under a 1000lb bar. For those of you that have never witnessed this or experienced it first hand, I will recount my experience…
There’s a rush of emotion and feelings as you approach the platform. The crowd on their feet cheering on this inhuman feat of strength. The smell of broken ammonia capsules and chalk fill your nose… you breath it in with a twisted smile. The ammonia stabs your nostrils and your eyes open; locked on and focused on the squat rack that is supporting your prize in the air as if it is taunting you. You try to remain focused and calm as you walk to the platform, but the sounds and screams of competitors and spectators are amplified 10 fold. Many people would release this surge of energy and use it to stampede to the bar, attempting to knock it from its pillar. But you approach the bar slowly, you feel the pain from the months of training, each step reminded you that you cannot fail!
Finally you face your foe; this inevitable meeting seems to last for hours, although in reality it is only a few moments. You tighten your belt as a gladiator would tighten the last piece of armor before they stepped into the arena. You attack the bar with your hands, drive your traps into the center knurling; A literal cloud of chalk stirs in the air from the initial blow to the bar. And you know… it is time…
As you begin to lift the bar from its shackles, the room goes silent, your vision is blurred and you feel the weight bear down on your back, air is driven from your body, and the stress of the weight begins to attack the foundation upon which you stand; a modern day Atlas holding up the weight of the world. Your decent is slow, every moment you are fighting to keep the bar at bay; as you approach the final decent, the pressure from the weight has already began its attack, capillaries burst throughout your body, the squeeze from the knee wraps begins to rip your skin apart and begin to question your strength. However, as you began to flirt with the sandman to take away the pain, you hear, “UPPPPP!!!” At this moment, all the pain, all the pressure seems to disappear and the animalistic fight to survive overcomes you. The weight, that moments ago was defeating you, is now at your mercy. The bar rises upward to the sky, fighting you with everything it has. As you reach the end of this arduous journey, you can only admire all those who have reached this pinnacle before you and all you can see is a view that is quite literally breath taking…