What It Means to Be Strong

Last weekend, dozens of women, men, and people elsewhere on the gender spectrum gathered from all around Germany in a gently crumbling brick building. A hundred years ago, it was a workshop in a train yard.

The people all wore singlets and supportive belts, their palms coated with chalk. One by one, they walked out onto a raised platform, before a cheering crowd, and lifted stacks of steel plates that weighed about as much as a motorcycle. Some dropped the weight; some stood up, under control, until the three judges showed the sign for “good lift.”

The mightiest competitors went home with precious prizes. I think they got a certificate and a T-shirt—but the real prize, of course, was the knowledge that they faced a huge challenge and gave it all of their effort.

Every one of them looked down at what may have seemed like an impossible, immovable weight, one that many people wouldn’t even think to try and lift, and said "I'm gonna do that."

Every one set a target and devised a plan, asked for help, spent hundreds of hours in the gym over dozens of weeks, worked their buns off, and then, in front of a crowd who knew exactly how hard it is to lift well over a hundred kilograms of dead weight, they strained and struggled until either their bodies gave out or they stood tall.

If you never have, you should watch somebody try to beat their personal deadlift record during a competition. When they succeed, you'll see one of the most primal expressions of human triumph that I've ever witnessed. There could be jumping for joy. There might be calm satisfaction. There may be animal roars. It is all inspiring, because no matter if they come first or last, victory is theirs.

And if you watch the people standing behind them, cheering them on, and if you watch the crowd, you won't see aggressive, bulging-eyed gym rats.

You'll see elated friends and supporters, people who appreciate what it means to sweat and hurt in pursuit of something far off—and then finally reach it.

You'll see gentle, friendly people who know that cheering hard for you isn't going to take away from their own accomplishments, but will instead enhance them. These folks know that supporting others tends to invite support in return, and that when everybody helps each other out, we all do better and feel better.

Hype is contagious, and it can be a virtuous cycle.

I see more than one lesson here, and those lessons apply to anything worth striving for. They may be a little bit different from the lessons you might take; maybe you won’t take any lesson at all. For some people, powerlifting is just a straightforward story about a person who fights a metal stick.

But watching the competition and screaming for my friends has reminded me that all kinds of strength are hard-won. It has shown me that even the most individual pursuits, the ones where you are on your own to define, measure, and work for success, even those are more enjoyable and rewarding with community and friendship.