My First Powerlifting Comp, Part One

What turned out to be the largest powerlifting competition in South Australia since the mid 1990’s was my first taste as to what a powerlifting competition was all about.

To say it was daunting was an understatement! Seven weeks prior to this comp, I began my training with a new coach.

As I work in a gym, train in the same gym and often socialise in the very same gym I decided to look for a trainer who had no preconceived ideas as to who I was or what I should do.

I wanted fresh eyes.

Those fresh eyes looked at me and it was decided I would start training for a powerlifting comp.

So in my gym, I am a big fish. I lift big, I talk big and I train big. But this was going to take me out of my pond and into a lake!

I had already stepped outside my comfort zone with getting a new trainer and I came to the conclusion: “What the hell?! Give it a go!!”

So I started my new training.

And I trained.

Hard.

But in a new way.

Previously, I had always trained like a bodybuilder, training a different body part each day and now I was training like a powerlifter.

I was training bench, squat and deadlift.

Let me pause here to just mention how much I HATE chest day!!

I may be considered odd, weird, crazy even, but legs has ALWAYS been my favourite day and now I got to train deadlift and squats ALL the time and I was loving it!!

But the bench….

Oh the pain!!

I hate bench.

So six weeks into my training I have a freak out. I decided I really must have lost my marbles to think I was strong enough to do this comp. I may have been training hard, even on bench day, but how hard was everyone else training? It must be waaaay harder than I was. How much heavier were they lifting? At this point in my training I have told all my friends that I under no circumstances am I going to compete.

Some are telling me to just do it, it will be fine, what have I got to lose…. (Oh my dignity… ehhh that’s not important) But they aren’t the ones doing this damn comp, that’s all on ME!!

The Friday before the registration closes my coach is sick. I don’t have to face her for our last training session. It is fate! I don’t have to do it!!

But then she goes and tags me in the facebook post reminding me to register!

How the hell do I bail now?!?!

All weekend I freak out!!

Then Monday night rolls around.

And for some reason I happen to stumble across the Australian womens powerlifting stats.

60kg division.

And I realise I am only 15kg off the weight to be inside the top 10 60kg powerlifting women in ALL of Australia.

And suddenly I am back in the game!!

This is a local comp!

Little old Adelaide.

I will be fine!

So I register.

And proceed to freak the hell out all over again!!

So Friday night rolls around again and I have my last session with my coach before the comp. I admit my fear and come clean that up to the Monday I had decided to bail. My coach manages to produce the right mix of empathy and “suck it up princess” and manages to say the right things and I leave our session feeling confident about the weights we have decided on for my initial attempts, full of nerves but enough excitement to stop me from puking in the car on the drive home.

The next day is weigh in and I have managed to convince one of my “what have you got to lose” friends and favourite training buddy to pack her two boys in the car and come to the other side of town with me to watch someone weigh me.

Industrial area.

Other side of town.

“Power Gym”

I manage to keep my nerves contained and fake a confidence I certainly don’t feel. As we walk into this strange place we are greeted by the yapping of a small white fluffy dog, alerting everyone to our presence…… So much for sneaking in inconspicuously!

The smiles that greet us from everyone in sight does a little to tame the butterfly’s violently trying to escape out of my stomach. The giant introduces himself as Fuzzy and from nowhere a tiny blond chick appears with a massive smile announcing she’s “Jac” and will be able to get me all sorted.

At this point I would just like to take a moment to thank both Fuzzy and Jac for making me feel ridiculously at ease whilst in the middle of a complete and utter freak out!

Leaving my training buddy, her children, the fluffy white dog and Fuzzy, Jac ushers me in to a private room for the weigh in.

I manage to come in at 60.2kg and am beyond stoked at this weight.

Then the part I am dreading more than getting on the scales…. Giving my initial attempts.

All my training and I am still freaking out that I am a little fish.

Very quietly I answer, 80kg for squats, 45kg for bench and 100kg for deadlift.

Impressive deadlift is the response I get from Jac.

Is it?! I am completely dumbfounded.

For a 60kg chick apparently 100kg deadlift is not particularly common.

These guys are making me feel more and more comfortable!

From here I am passed back to Fuzzy to get my rack height for bench and squats…. And this is my first encounter with the squat rack.

Holy shit balls batman, what is this giant orange contraption?!? It looks like a medieval torture device! But I jump in and measure up, faking a confidence I certainly don’t feel. Bench is measured up and I am thanked for coming in so early and off I go to eat.

And eat.

And eat.

And sleep.

All this nervous energy has taken its toll and I nap for 3 hours!