Post by MattCollister on Jul 1, 2009 10:28:10 GMT -5
When I started telling people this past winter that I’d signed up for a powerlifting competition in late June, the rumors and innuendo began flying.
The violent mood swings.
The connection to Balco labs.
Being seen in public with Alex Rodriguez and Marion Jones.
None of it was true, of course, and if you were still not convinced that I was not under the influence of banned performance enhancing substances, all you had to do was attend the competition last Saturday and see my performance.
Truth is, for the last year I’ve been back in the weight room seriously lifting for the first time since college, and I’ve been loving it. I signed up for the competition, which was in Strongsville, with no delusions of actually “competing.” Rather, I just wanted something to shoot for to help me progress.
My goals were humble:
-- Not rupture anything.
-- Not make a complete ass of myself.
-- Whatever happens, have some dignity.
So, I knew I was in for it when I was backstage warming up for the squat, which is the first lift (a full powerlifting competition consists of three lifts: the squat, the bench, and the deadlift.) The other lifters were casually repping heavier weights than I planned to max on the competition platform. Gulp.
The humility check continued on the platform. When the announcer called out the weight I’d be attempting for my first squat attempt (112 kg / 245 lb), I heard one of the bar loaders ask if it was a mistake.
Then, as light as it was, I missed that first squat. See, it’s not just a matter of sloppily moving iron around; technique is critical. All lifts are judged by three referees, and if two of the three do not feel your lift followed the defined technique, you miss the lift. My technique is actually pretty good, I just failed to lock my knees out totally at the top.
The last lifter in my flight was nicknamed – I kid you not – “The Wall.” He put up over 700 lbs for his first squat. Then it was my turn again. “Ok,” the announcer said. “Let’s strip all that weight off for Matt Collister’s second attempt at 112 kg.”
I did get the second squat, and ended up hitting 125 kg (275 lb) for my third.
We went on to bench press and deadlift. Best bench was 112 kg (248 lb) and best deadlift was 150 kg (330).
I was seriously spanked from the competitive standpoint. Guys were benching 500 lbs like it was air. Someone put up over 700 on the bench. Hell, an 83-year old woman deadlifted 170 lbs!
But even though the other lifters were super intense, it seemed like they were encouraging and supportive while I was on the platform. It’s reassuring to struggle up a 250-lb bench and get a “way to stay with it” from a guy who’d just pressed twice that.
So through it all, I like to think that I met my primary goals. I escaped uninjured. And while I couldn’t compete on weight, I didn’t hang my head.
Plus, I knew I could take all of them in a 50K.
Thank you to Jen for being there and getting it on camera:
Me on the squat. The yawning spotter says it all.
Success on my second attempt (that's my arse there). I am squatting what the big dude spotting me does for one-arm concentration curls.
Happy I didn't rupture anything.
The violent mood swings.
The connection to Balco labs.
Being seen in public with Alex Rodriguez and Marion Jones.
None of it was true, of course, and if you were still not convinced that I was not under the influence of banned performance enhancing substances, all you had to do was attend the competition last Saturday and see my performance.
Truth is, for the last year I’ve been back in the weight room seriously lifting for the first time since college, and I’ve been loving it. I signed up for the competition, which was in Strongsville, with no delusions of actually “competing.” Rather, I just wanted something to shoot for to help me progress.
My goals were humble:
-- Not rupture anything.
-- Not make a complete ass of myself.
-- Whatever happens, have some dignity.
So, I knew I was in for it when I was backstage warming up for the squat, which is the first lift (a full powerlifting competition consists of three lifts: the squat, the bench, and the deadlift.) The other lifters were casually repping heavier weights than I planned to max on the competition platform. Gulp.
The humility check continued on the platform. When the announcer called out the weight I’d be attempting for my first squat attempt (112 kg / 245 lb), I heard one of the bar loaders ask if it was a mistake.
Then, as light as it was, I missed that first squat. See, it’s not just a matter of sloppily moving iron around; technique is critical. All lifts are judged by three referees, and if two of the three do not feel your lift followed the defined technique, you miss the lift. My technique is actually pretty good, I just failed to lock my knees out totally at the top.
The last lifter in my flight was nicknamed – I kid you not – “The Wall.” He put up over 700 lbs for his first squat. Then it was my turn again. “Ok,” the announcer said. “Let’s strip all that weight off for Matt Collister’s second attempt at 112 kg.”
I did get the second squat, and ended up hitting 125 kg (275 lb) for my third.
We went on to bench press and deadlift. Best bench was 112 kg (248 lb) and best deadlift was 150 kg (330).
I was seriously spanked from the competitive standpoint. Guys were benching 500 lbs like it was air. Someone put up over 700 on the bench. Hell, an 83-year old woman deadlifted 170 lbs!
But even though the other lifters were super intense, it seemed like they were encouraging and supportive while I was on the platform. It’s reassuring to struggle up a 250-lb bench and get a “way to stay with it” from a guy who’d just pressed twice that.
So through it all, I like to think that I met my primary goals. I escaped uninjured. And while I couldn’t compete on weight, I didn’t hang my head.
Plus, I knew I could take all of them in a 50K.
Thank you to Jen for being there and getting it on camera:
Me on the squat. The yawning spotter says it all.
Success on my second attempt (that's my arse there). I am squatting what the big dude spotting me does for one-arm concentration curls.
Happy I didn't rupture anything.
