On February 10th, 2007, I competed in my first Strongman contest, the Motor City Strongman at Ford Field in Detroit, Michigan. It’s been exactly one year since my introduction to the sport so I feel like it's a good time to reflect on what I've learned.
I signed up for the Motor City contest roughly three weeks before contest day, which happened to be the same time I heard about the competition. I had been tossing around the idea of entering the Strongman arena for a couple months, and there were a few spring and summer contests that I’d been eyeing for my inauguration. However, when one popped up so close to home, I simply couldn't pass it up.
In order to properly convey what I'd like to share, I'm going to have to rewind back to my birth into life as a gym rat. Like many people who compete in strength sports, I grew up amidst subscriptions to Muscle and Fitness and Flex. These were my training bibles. From ages 17 to 19, I competed in the teen classes of a handful of local bodybuilding shows, and I even did OK in a few of them. During this time, bodybuilders were the pinnacle of strength in my eyes and in the eyes of all of my friends. Big muscles meant you were strong or so we thought. My training partner and I trained religiously on a five-day split. We did arms first because it was the most important muscle group, then chest followed by back, shoulders, and legs. We would isolate to no end, striving for full muscle bellies, mountainous peaks, and cuts upon cuts.
I continued on this routine for quite some time, getting pumped so I could flex in the mirror as a show of perceived dominance over my inferiors. As I entered into college, I proudly brought my training philosophies and bodybuilding trophies with me. Having trained in a commercial gym in the years prior, the University of Michigan student weight room was a bit of a culture shock for me. It was dark, dirty, and the equipment was old and rusted. Furthermore, it lacked the required number of mirrors that should be considered a bare minimum for any serious lifter to call a gym “home.”
I was still pretty strong compared to most of my fellow students, but I'm sure they had been reading the same training articles that I had read, though with much less fervor. There were a scattered few, however, who were moving weights that were well beyond my own capabilities. I observed, took notes, and modified my training. Every so often, I'd replace leg presses with squats, and I started benching with a barbell rather than in the Smith (a.k.a. Shirley) machine. Looking back, I was still training in a sickeningly inefficient manner, but it was a first step.
When I graduated college and entered the workplace, I found a commercial gym located conveniently near my office. For the next eight years, I trained hard in the manner I had become accustomed to, idling away in a stagnant pool of no progress.
Finally, one day in the middle of 2005, I stumbled across an internet forum that was devoted to strength and power, a forum I still call home. I read and I asked questions and sometimes tried to answer others’ questions as well, only to find that someone else usually had a better answer to trump my own. During my venture into my new cyber wonderland, I came across mentions of other websites devoted to strength training, Strongman, powerlifting, Olympic lifting. I read it all. Though it was moderately difficult to abandon everything I had known to be true during the previous fifteen years, I gradually converted to a training philosophy that was entirely performance based. Everything I had been doing changed, and as a result, I started to get strong and put on the size that I had so dearly coveted during the inefficient years. I squatted and deadlifted and gave up 95 percent of isolation movements. I quickly transformed from one of the stronger guys at my gym to the strongest. I was a beast among men.
By the start of 2007, I had become crazy strong. Naturally, I was still a bit nervous to take that final step that would put my abilities to the test, but I sent my entry for the Motor City contest nonetheless. After all, I had hit some pretty good gym numbers that helped convince me that I could match up fairly well against most anyone. With that fallacy in mind, I would like to proceed with four pieces of advice, or facts, if you will, that may provide a bit of insight into Strongman for anyone who is considering the sport.
Fact #1: You are not strong.
On that fateful day in February, I finished with a tie for fourth out of 14 competitors in the 231-lb class. Not bad, you might think. I was near the top, and honestly, I was very happy with my placing. However, the gap between myself and the top guys was roughly the size of the Grand Canyon. I competed against new professional, Justin Blake, that day as well as one of his fellow crew members, Don Randall, and pressing prodigy, Brain Amundsen, who had just come down from heavyweight.
I felt like a seventh grader trying to beat up on a bunch of high school seniors who also happened to be the captains of the varsity football team. I remember stepping up to the third event, the car deadlift, thinking that I could do very well. I had pulled 585 in the previous weeks and always felt very comfortable with deadlifts. It turned out that a car deadlift was nothing like a conventional deadlift, but that’s beside the point. I finished with 13 reps, which put me near the top of the list of those competitors who had already gone. Shortly after, Don and Justin had their turns. Don pulled 21 reps and Justin pulled 25 and that was only because time ran out. I seem to recall one of the promoters having to wrestle Justin off the apparatus to get him to quit doing reps.
And so lesson number one was taught and learned as I was humbled in what was to be “my event.” I may have been strong in my isolated world but not nearly so among my competition.
Fact #2: You are in terrible shape.
Strongmen lift big weights, right? Well, yes and no. Sure, a good Strongman competitor can lift what most people can’t, but more importantly, that Strongman can move with the weight and move fast and efficiently at that!
Every event at that first contest left me gasping for breath. Due to my late entry, I hadn’t had a chance to do any implement-specific training leading up to the big day, but I was a lifelong soccer player, playing at least twice a week at that point, so I wasn’t worried about cardio. As long as I could come in with decent static strength, I’d be alright. Surely, my conditioning would be better than that of these lumbering muscle heads. Wrong!
Movement does not equal movement under load. I’ve never wanted to curl up in a corner and pass out more so than on the day I first carried a Husafell stone for distance. Carries and loads and such require conditioning beyond the newbie's wildest dreams—a fact that can’t be understated. I, myself, am still trying to overcome this hurdle.
Fact #3: You don't know what the hell you're doing.
There are technique intricacies that help immensely with every event, allowing your now wonderful conditioning to take you even farther than it otherwise would have. Find a place to train the implements. If, for some reason, you can't, then improvise. There are tons of dirty little tricks out there that may allow you to loosely approximate any number of events in a conventional gym setting. Of course, nothing can beat getting your hands/skin/blood on an actual Atlas stone, but if stones are not available to you, there are things you can do to help prepare.
In my short time competing in the sport, I’ve learned that the Strongman community is somewhat of a brother/sisterhood. When you compete, it's common for your competition to scream in your ear and cheer you on. Veterans are more than willing to help rookies with whatever tricks they may have learned along the way.
If you're serious about competing, don't be intimidated. Everyone starts somewhere, and if you approach your early years as a sponge who's willing to soak up the experience of others who have gone before you, you will learn much.
Fact #4: You sure aren't very smart.
This final piece of advice is one I now take very seriously because it affected me to a large degree through most of 2007. Listen to your body! Once you get started in Strongman, your desire to get better takes over. It's normal to want to push yourself to new limits, but the nature of the sport means that injuries happen. Some are severe and some are minor annoyances. Regardless, you must learn to recognize these stumbling blocks for what they are and allow yourself to heal properly when you need it.
In March of last year, shortly before my second contest, I got a herniated disc in training. Hell bent on qualifying for the nationals, I trained through the injury, worsening the condition and arriving at subsequent contests at less than full capacity. When I finally qualified for the nationals in September, I was so broken down that I couldn't even make the trip. I had gone as far as to buy plane tickets to Vegas, but ultimately, I was forced to accept the fact that I was in no condition to handle nationals’ level weights.
After my epiphany, I rested up, sought out ART treatments, and committed myself to getting better. I'm now close to 100 percent, stronger than I've ever been, and looking forward to coming into my next competition in April in good health. Once you have reached a certain point, it's not all that hard to get back there. The hard part is getting yourself to believe that to be true and allowing your body to return to optimal condition.
There you have it. That sums up the little bit of wisdom that I have to offer. As a relative newcomer to the sport, myself, I hope that I was able to offer a small amount of insight into the addiction we call Strongman.
Though my facts might seem discouraging, I assure you they are not meant to be. My only intent is to help you understand what to expect if you're a person who has been entertaining the idea of jumping in. Don't hesitate to enter a competition. Just know that each and every one will be a learning experience and embrace them as such.