Lessons from the European Championships
Or confessions of a Masters' Weightlifter
I competed in the European Masters’ Weightlifting Championships on May 4th in Golem, Albania. I was in the Men’s 55-59 age group, 81kg class. After bombing out in the World’s last September, my main goal was to get a total and a place.
I had been training well until about two weeks before the competition. A combination of outdoor manual work (gardening for 16 hours a week) and heavy lifts caused my back to protest. My back spasmed 8 days before the comp doing a 90kg clean and jerk.
I didn’t lift a barbell for the next seven days. I would have withdrawn if the competition had been a Tier 3 in the UK. But it wasn’t: I’d paid for flights and accommodation, and one of our club members, Yasmin, had also paid to come and watch!
My wife (and chartered physiotherapist) Sarah looked at my back a couple of times and loosened the sacroiliac joint. I was worried I’d done something hideous and didn’t want to risk more injury (and not be able to work and earn money for the family). She reassured me it was ok to lift but to manage it.
The drive to Heathrow (3 hours), flight to Albania (3 hours), and the helter-skelter, white-knuckle taxi ride to the hotel (75 minutes) did nothing to help my back. When we arrived 48 hours before I was due to lift, I wasn’t sure I could.
Regeneration in the Adriatic
Over the next day, I went into the sea and pool to swim and move. The comp venue was just under a mile from the hotel, so walking down there to get my accreditation and check weight was perfect as a loosener.
I walked down early again on Saturday morning to check my weight and rehearse my lifts. I was 0.35kg over my target weight (although I was in the 81kg, I was trying to get under 79kg because that is the new category from June 1st and my lifts in this comp would count towards the new rankings).
I managed to lift light weights without any problems. I was relieved. I worked out the minimum I could open on (66kg snatch/90 kg clean and jerk) which was 15kg below my qualifying total (you aren’t allowed to open lighter than that).
Competition Day
I walked to the venue to check my weight: I’d lost 1kg in the previous 24 hours and had enough room for breakfast. My official weigh-in was at 11:45. I don’t like waiting that long to eat and drink; I prefer to get something into my stomach early.
Waiting to be weighed in with Stanley Bear (Our club mascot).
I was thirsty by 11:00 so went to the venue early. I was still 800g underweight, so I ate a sandwich and drank water. I weighed in at 78.35kg: perfect.
Non-lifters will not understand the obsession with weight and food when competing. The gym bros who post their lifts on Instagram and correlate that with having to lift at a specific weight, at a specific time, in front of an audience are delusional.
I’d heard horror stories about Albanian food from Julie Morrish (I’m glad to say we had a different and enjoyable experience) and had bought a camping food pack of chilli and rice plus plenty of flapjacks to eat.
I sat for a long hour with two other GB lifters competing in different groups but simultaneously: Stewart Treadwell and Stewart Cruickshank (a combined 80 years of lifting experience) and Yasmin.
The warm-up room early in the morning. During the day it was carnage.
We went down to warm-up at 1315. My hands were trembling by the time I got downstairs. I shared a platform with a Bulgarian lifter in the back area. I always write down my warm-up lifts and tick them off as I go. This reduces the need to think and it also allows my coach to know how many lifts I need before I go out.
I was very lucky to have Ray Williams (ex-Welsh national coach) and Barry Eaton (ex-chairman of Weightlifting Wales) helping me. Yasmin was also there to load, fill up water and generally cheer.
Cool heads were needed by all because the back room was extremely busy. Coaches were stepping over my bar just before I lifted, the platforms were tightly packed together, and three competition platforms were going at the same time. The noise and hustle and bustle could have been overwhelming.
To help me stay focussed, I’d prepared a cue card to look at before I lifted.
‘Why’s he brought his homework?’ Ray said.
I also wrote down my warm-up lifts and ticked them off as I went along. I do this at every competition: it removes another thing to think about and it also helps me time my warm-up. When Barry said, ‘6 lifts to go,’ I knew how many warm-up lifts I had and when to do them.
But, things change, and weightlifters have to be prepared for other lifters taking big jumps and you are called to lift sooner than expected.
I was feeling loose. I wanted to do a 65kg in the back but a lifter jumped so I went from a 63kg in the back to an opener of 66kg on the platform. Instead of a few calls of my name followed by hushed silence, I was greeted by shouts and bangs from the platforms on either side of me and the corresponding cheers from the crowd.
I took an extra breath to compose myself, but the adrenaline ignored my best intentions and the bar flew above my head.
A ‘good’ lift was called and I am aware of the oxymoronic announcement: it was anything but a ‘good’ snatch. But it counted. I kept to my initial plan of going up in 3kg jumps. Every time I lifted, I was hoping my back wouldn’t spasm.
There was a 10-minute break before the clean-and-jerk started. I went to the loo, drank and ate some flapjack. I only needed 5 warm-up sets before my opener. This all went ok.
90kg opener.
I had succeeded in getting a total and my back was intact. Things were even more hectic in the back area. I was in the middle of a competitive group and lifters were to-ing and fro-ing around me. I read my focus card, drank water and ate some flapjack.
My name was called and I sniffed some smelling salts to help me focus. I got the 95kg clean, but missed the jerk by 2 red lights to one white light. Close, but not good enough.
Ray suggested I go up to 96kg to buy some more rest. I agreed. I felt ok. The weights didn’t feel heavy. The only doubt was whether I should go to 100kg or not. Time flew around and I was up again. I cleaned 96kg ok, but the jerk was slightly in front of me. I knew it wasn’t as good as the second lift. Three red lights…
I had 162 total. A good 18kg lighter than I was training for. But you don’t win competitions on paper. You win them on the platform.
It was only after I’d said thank you to Barry, Ray and Yasmin, and I’d packed up my stuff that I looked at the scoreboard. I’d finished fourth (a few days later I looked at the results: the bronze medallist had lifted 163kg…).
Things to work on
Once I’d decompressed in the sea and had a nice cup of tea, I went out for a pizza and beer with Yasmin. That was my plan no matter what happened on the day: triumph or disaster. My result was somewhere in between.
A weightlifting competition is a chance to see how your technique holds up under pressure. While training is physical, competing is emotional. It’s hard to replicate that emotion in training.
I have 3 more weeks of extra gardening work and my training focus is looking after my back. I have no intention of going heavy. I have competed 10 times in the last 21 months, so a break is no bad thing.
I am struggling to push press and keep the bar level due to my tight back on the right side. I think this affected the jerks when I competed. Only when I have rectified this will I consider increasing the weights.
Then I might think about competing again.
I’ve gone into some detail about this to share what you don’t see in an Instagram ‘highlight reel.’ It’s easy to criticise from the comfort of your armchair and post curated content.
It’s hard to step onto the platform and lift at a certain time and place under the glare of the spotlights. Well done to all the competitors who went out there and tried their best.
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Congratulations. And great advice.