Why I Compete in Powerlifting.

This year will be my eighth year competing in powerlifting. Eight years of this niche sport. I’m not elite, I don’t get paid, I compete entirely recreationally. And still, I see so much value in pouring a stack of my time, effort and energy in to participating. I derive a huge amount of enjoyment and fulfilment from powerlifting, which has only increased over my years of involvement.

So here are four reasons why I still compete in powerlifting after all these years (and admittedly after numerous claims of retirement).

Competition gives meaning and purpose to my training.

I love lifting. That ought to come as no surprise to anyone. I’ve lifted in some capacity every week for almost 15 years. I really cannot imagine a life where I don’t lift. Without competitive opportunities and without that reason to show up, I would still train. But, with that competitive outlet, that opportunity to put my efforts on display and stack myself against other lifters — it certainly brings an intensity to my training.

I show up year round and I put in effort year round, but lifting cannot be my highest priority for 12 months of the year. That is unsustainable and unenjoyable. The competition calendar gives me clear instruction on when to shift gears to higher focus — when to carve out more time for training, when to carve out more time for recovery, when to prioritise sleep and food.

When getting ready for competition, my life isn’t “balanced”. I pour more in to lifting than at any other time of year. Again, it’s unsustainable (and I don’t want to do that) year round. But competition helps to tell me when to crank up the intensity and when to dial it back and rest. It gives me a huge amount of drive a few times a year to really show up.

Competing is a mode of self-expression.

Competition grants me an opportunity to express my strength, my athleticism, my work ethic, my ferocity, my ability to regulate my emotions. These are all qualities that I love about myself. Putting these qualities on display feels good for me. It feels good to stand on the platform and be like:

“Hello everyone, I use powerlifting as a tool to work on myself and this is the product. I work extremely hard and I am pretty fucking strong now. My emotions used to run the show but now I am able to channel them to get out here with a bit of a fucking aggression to throw weights around that frail little teenage me could have only dreamed of”.

Standing up on the competition platform sends a number of messages out about who I am and what I stand for. And I love that.

Competitions are fun.

I typically compete twice per year, and they are two of the most fun days of every year. I love competing with my friends, I love spending the day with my coach, I love having the support of my fiance in the sport that we both love, I love having my lifting community come out to support me in the sport that we all love, I love vibing in the warm up room with the other lifters who are feeling the same excited, nervous energy that I am. If my body could handle the rigours of competition more frequently I’d do it all the time. Competition days are a blast. They’re nerve-wracking of course, and can be anxiety-inducing initially while they’re new and you’re learning to regulate your emotions in the sporting arena. But to get in there and compete in sport (particularly as an adult), to fire yourself up and send it in something you work so hard for — it is so fucking fun.

Competing provides an opportunity for me to be a positive role model.

I do what I say I’m going to do, I take myself seriously but not too seriously, I am consistent, I do things that scare me, I demonstrate good sportsmanship, I have fun in my sport — these are all values of mine, and values that I want to instil in my team. Competition provides an opportunity for me to show up and share these values with the people that look to me as a role model.

In my most recent competition I was dealing with some glute/hip pain warming up for deadlifts. It’s something I had experienced in training before, occasionally flaring up after benching. In training, I have time to settle the pain before moving on to deadlifts. In competition, I am not granted such a luxury. The clock is ticking and I need to be ready to deadlift when my name is called.

I was in quite a lot of pain and stressed as hell — but it was an opportunity to show up. I breathed through all of my warm ups as they hurt but also as the pain was progressively settling, I swallowed my pride and dropped my opening deadlift attempt by 17.5kg, I told my coach what I needed from him, I communicated with him as I made each successful lift, I grimaced when it hurt and smiled when it didn’t.

I finished the day with 3/3 deadlifts. My total wasn’t what I thought I was capable of, but it was what I was capable of on the day. I was so fucking proud of the experience and how I carried myself. My team that were in the crowd didn’t even know what I was dealing with in the warm up room and I was so proud to share with them how my years of competitive experience have made me better at navigating adversity. I love competing for this reason.

I shared about this experience on IG here.

And I reflected on my mental gains in this blog post-competition. It is titled “Intangible Gains: reflections from and about my more resilient brain”.

The competition experience is not something that can be replicated in the gym. The experience is entirely unique and it’s fucking powerful. I love having this day that is for me, for my athleticism, for my self-expression, for my emotions. Competition gives meaning not only my training but to my life. And for that, I’ll continue showing up for all of the nerves and the jitters year after year.

Whether you’re just starting out in the gym and dipping your toes in to a new hobby or if you are a more advanced lifter looking to dial in your technique, improve the structure of your training or hit the platform this year, I’d love to work with you. Initial consultations are free of charge and obligation.