This happened years ago at an outdoor wedding for a close friend and training partner. It was a small crowd, a simple setup, nothing fancy. The plan was: say the vows, eat, drink, and go home. That’s it.
Then the preacher started talking about squats.
The officiant was Reverend Tony Hutson, about 6'3", 385 pounds, a Baptist preacher who could squat over 1,000 and bench 700. Not exactly your standard wedding hire. At one point in the ceremony, he turned to the crowd and started explaining what it means to take a truly heavy squat.
He broke it down for the non-lifters: when you walk out a max attempt, that bar is heavier than anything you’ve ever had on your back in training. You don’t take that kind of weight without three spotters—one on each side and one behind you. If one of them isn’t locked in, or if they bail when it gets ugly, you and the bar are going down.
Then he flipped it into real life.
- One side spotter, he said, is your friends. The real ones. The ones who show up when it’s inconvenient, who don’t care about your total or your status, and who stay put when everything starts to buckle.
- The other side spotter is your family. That’s the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally and keep you steady when you’re ready to dump the whole thing on your own head.
- The back spotter is God, or, if you want to frame it differently, your higher purpose. The thing behind you that doesn’t move, even when you can’t feel it.
His point was brutal and straightforward: You can take on much heavier weight in life when your family, faith, and friends are solid. And when it’s too much—when you have to dump the bar—they’re the ones who catch it and help you stand back up.
Lifters love to talk about weak points. Hips. Triceps. Lockout. Everyone wants the magic movement that fixes everything. However, what is rarely discussed is this: Your relationships are also part of your total.
- Strong on the platform and a wreck at home is still weak.
- Dialed-in programming with zero real friends means you have nobody to call when life buries you under something heavier than a barbell.
- The lone-wolf mentality works right up until you hit a situation that doesn’t care how tough you think you are.
So here’s the takeaway that stuck with me from that day:
Ask yourself:
- Who’s your side spotter when things get ugly?
- Who’s your other side spotter that stabilizes your life, not just your training?
- And what—if anything—is behind you when your own willpower finally gives out?
Because nobody moves their heaviest weight alone. Not in the gym. Not in life.
