I still remember the first time I ever picked up a barbell. I wanted to “get stronger” because after having my daughter, I realized I could not carry all eight pounds of her up and down the stairs without huffing and puffing like I had just run a marathon. So what did I do? Probably what most of you reading this article have done. I joined a CrossFit gym. My intro class was at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m., and as I stood there, bleary-eyed, the 15kg bar heavy in my hands, I thought, “What am I doing?! There is no way, NO WAY, that I am ever going to hoist this thing over my head.”
 
That was seven years ago. Flash forward to 2019. Since that introductory morning class, I have fallen in love with weightlifting and actually had the opportunity to compete in this past year’s Masters Nationals in Salt Lake City. Despite all of the physical pieces of evidence that I am an athlete (calluses on my thumbs and bruises that dot my shins), there are still moments (especially those initial warm-up reps) when my shoulders and legs and back do not move in sync with one another and when the same 15kg bar I can normally overhead press with ease feels like a ton. It is then when I start to wonder, “Do I even lift?” But by faith (and because I have done the same warm-ups over and over and over again), I know that by my third muscle snatch rep the groove will be greased, and I’ll be soon performing my working sets with confidence.
 
I am no longer new to the sport of weightlifting. I critique videos of myself jerking and can pinpoint how my knees came too far forward in the dip or how my elbows dropped too low. Happily, I don’t need to think about every little aspect of the clean but instead have three good cues to guide me through the movement (“Legs!” “Stand up!” “Elbows!”) I understand my leverages and limb lengths and where my weaknesses and strengths lie. In my mind, I don’t feel new. The number of mistakes I make on any given lift has been whittled from too many to count to one or two, and I sometimes see a picture or video of myself at the bottom of a snatch and am pleasantly shocked. However, despite the fact that my technique has slowly improved as time has gone by, and I am more confident moving heavier weights, I still wanted to know where I compared to others. Was I still a newbie? An “intermediate? An in-betweener? I wanted answers.
 
Given that I first picked up a barbell in a CrossFit gym seven years ago, my first inclination was that I SHOULD be an intermediate lifter. But then again, during that seven-year period, I had another baby. I tried powerlifting. I dabbled in bodybuilding for a hot minute. I was not consistently hitting the platform and working on high pulls and extensions. I only seriously started weightlifting a year and a half ago. Chronologically, at the ripe age of thirty-eight, my joints creak and crack, and I feel old. On the platform, however, I am a young spring chicken. I should be further along in my weightlifting journey than I currently am, but due to, well, life, I am not.
 
This revelation leaves me in an awkward place--I’m no longer making a ton of newbie gains (sorry, no back squat PRs every week) yet am not really intermediate because I’m not strong or technical enough to hang with the national crowd (as evidenced by my performance at this last Masters Nationals). According to this Catalyst Athletics chart, as a 45kg lifter, I am a Level 2 (or intermediate) lifter, and in fact, have a higher back and front squat than what is listed on the chart. Yet, I don’t FEEL intermediate at all, and when I put myself next to the other national level Masters athletes, I pale in comparison.
 
In actuality, though, what does it mean to be intermediate? The more I thought about what new, beginner, intermediate, advanced, and all the other lifting labels meant, the more confused I became. Should there be a set time period that designates when one goes from intermediate to advanced? Are there different lifting levels or stratifications according to age, whether it be chronological or lifting-wise? Can a person actually digress and go from making all the international teams to no longer being advanced?
 
So many questions. So many things to think and wonder about. Google search “beginner lifter” or “intermediate lifter” and the laundry list of weightlifting totals and years spent in the gym will automatically populate on the screen. It’s overwhelming. It’s confusing. It’s too much.
 
In the end, the question I had to ask myself was “Why?” Why do I NEED to know if I’m ‘new’ or ‘intermediate’? In the end, isn’t it all just a label? Yes, I understand that these labels are terms to help a person know what kind of programming to pursue (don’t go and do Smolov if you’re one month into weightlifting!), but in the end, aren’t we all new in thought patterns and goals?
 
Now before you high-level athletes start writing your angry letters of discourse to me, let me explain. I have yet to meet an athlete, advanced or not, say, “You know, I’m good with strength. Don’t need to get much stronger.” On the flip side, no weightlifter will say her technique is always on point, and she has no issues whatsoever. Every athlete, whether new or intermediate or advanced, is on a journey. It is the journey of hitting a certain number, competing at a certain meet, rectifying a technique error, or finding a certain sense of joy and fulfillment every time he steps on the platform. The journey never changes whether one is one month, one year, or 10 years into the sport.
 
Furthermore, as an athlete ages, her body also changes, and hip positioning that may have once felt normal and fine may suddenly feel awkward and unbalanced (yup, that tends to happen after having children). After giving birth to my daughter, I had to relearn how to squat. After giving birth to my son, I had to relearn how to hip hinge. The body is never static. Life is never static, and neither is weightlifting. Why then are we so quick to pigeonhole an athlete as new or intermediate, or any other label, for that matter? In the end, an athlete is an athlete regardless of age, gender, or time spent on the platform.
 
So I am abandoning my fixation with having to label myself as new or intermediate and am instead focusing on the daily grind, the reps I missed, the reps I made, and the perseverance and I character I am building through weightlifting. I am choosing to look at improving my technique and what my body can do at any given moment rather than limit what I can and cannot do because I am a beginner or intermediate. Why? Because ultimately, I am an athlete. Not a “new” athlete or “intermediate” athlete, but an athlete. Like those with years more experience than me, I am constantly evolving and seeing how much I can progress in the sport. Abandoning the labels has made me more aware of who I am as a weightlifter, and in the end, I am able to appreciate and see this strength journey as a time of growth, inside and out.