Many of you probably follow the international weightlifting scene, at least to some degree. Some of you might be avid fans who know the names and stats of the athletes who win the Olympics and World Championships, while others might simply get on YouTube to watch videos of elite lifters to study their technique. Whatever the case, you likely have some amount of familiarity with big time lifting.
 
Let’s think about the “big time” phrase a little bit, shall we? If you’re a weightlifter, chances are you’ve had some kind of sports background prior to your love affair with the barbell. Some exceptions, sure. But the vast majority of you have done something athletic before. In whatever those particular sports fields were, you followed the big-time performances. If it was a mainstream American sport, it was easy because you got bombarded with constant media coverage of the NFL or NBA or whatever.
 
However, you’re in Olympic weightlifting now, which means you don’t turn on the TV and see the sport constantly. Thank god for the internet because it gives you all access to the biggest meets on the planet.
 
There’s an interesting dynamic here. You see…most of you aren’t IN the big time, know what I mean? You’re not Olympians, World Team members, or national competitors. For those of you who compete in weightlifting, it’s probably at the local level, which is a far cry from the World Championships. Hell, many of you don’t even compete at all. The gym is as far as you go. There’s nothing wrong with any of this, by the way. Whatever level your weightlifting life is at, it’s all good. Still, there’s an idea here that we can take a look at.
 
I work with a lot of weightlifters, at all levels. They have widely varying levels of skill, ability, accomplishment, and mental outlook. I coach some lifters who are psychologically tough as nails, and others who expect to fail most of the time. They come in all shapes and colors. They also rise to different levels during their time in the sport. Some lifters train for eight months and qualify for national competition, while others train for two years just to be good enough to win a 3rd place medal at a small local competition.
 
This month, I want to take a look at what it means to have the right perspective on the level you personally train and compete at. In other words, we’re talking about making sure your mental attitude is properly locked in for YOUR weightlifting, not somebody else’s. You’d be surprised at how many times I’ve seen athletes (and sometimes coaches) who aren’t maximizing their experience in this sport simply because they’ve got the wrong viewpoint about what they’re doing, and how far they’re ultimately going to be capable of making it. They work hard and they train properly, but they don’t THINK the right way. Their perspective about their careers is skewed, and it limits them.
 
If you really want to squeeze everything out of your time in this weightlifting business, you have to sharpen up even the smallest details and aspects of it. Your mindset about where you’re at, and what you’re capable of, is a huge piece of the puzzle. Let’s take a closer look at it.
 
First, a story…
 
I heard an extremely successful and talented person say once, “Stories are an incredibly effective way to communicate ideas.” Because I believe that to be true, let me share a little something with you to illuminate this subject.
 
When I think about athletes having the right perspective on their weightlifting lives, I think about a funny connection from my own experience. Back in 2004, I was selected to compete in the US Olympic Trials. It was the high point of my career, and I consider it my most special memory. The main reason it was so overpowering was the 14 years of buildup that led to it.
 
Back in 1990, I was a 17 year-old kid at a national junior squad training camp at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs. One of the coaches I met at this camp was Bob Morris, who is still one of our top national figures in US weightlifting. One day at lunch, a bunch of athletes were listening while Bob talked about the 1988 Olympic Trials where he had coached one of his best lifters. I asked Bob what the atmosphere was like at the Trials, and I’ll never forget what he said. “The intensity is so thick, you could cut it with a knife.”
 
I got chills when he said that, and I literally thought about it for years afterwards. I wanted to rise to that level. I wanted to be in that warmup room someday, getting ready to battle it out with the best athletes in the country for Olympic Team selection. So over the next 14 years, my career steadily improved, I had some twists and turns and took a lot of lumps, but I eventually overcame all the setbacks and lifted in the 2004 Trials.
 
Everything Bob said about it was true. It’s one thing to compete at the National Championship or the American Open. Those are huge meets and the vibe is phenomenal when you’re competing in them. But the Olympic Trials? That’s a whole different story, baby. People don’t talk much in that warmup room. They don’t look at each other much. After you’ve been back there for a few minutes, you realize what’s going on. Everybody has worked their entire lives for this moment. This is why they all got involved with the sport. Years and years of commitment and pain have led to this, and you have to wait another four years for a second chance if you don’t get the job done. In a nutshell, it’s a damn prickly atmosphere.
 
Like I said, it was the most thrilling moment of my 28 years as a strength athlete. However, let’s fast-forward eight years beyond it.
 
In 2010, I was in a much different phase of my life in weightlifting. I was 38 years old, and life had moved on in many ways. I wasn’t training like a maniac anymore, had a full-time job, owned a house…the whole nine yards. I was still lifting and training, but it was a mixture of powerlifting and Olympic lifting without too much crazy intensity for either of them. Basically, I was getting older and letting my real life develop, while still wanting to lift weights because I love it so much.
 
In the summer of that year, I was recovering from a meniscus surgery on my knee and I was bored, so I looked around for some kind of powerlifting meet where I could compete in bench press and deadlift (knee wasn’t ready for squats yet). I found a small local meet in New Mexico, but in this meet, if you wanted to do bench and deadlift, you also had to compete in the curl. Yep, you heard that right. We’re talking about standing on a competition platform in front of an audience with three judges watching you…while you do a barbell curl.
 
I entered the meet and traveled to Las Cruces. The meet was being held in an elementary school cafeteria. There were posters of the food pyramid and Winnie the Pooh on the walls. Most of the people competing in the meet were housewives, business professionals, and old masters. When I stepped on the platform for my first curl attempt, there was a lady changing her baby’s diaper on a table a few feet away. I distinctly remember standing there and saying to myself, “God, what the hell happened to me?”
 
I had competed at the Olympic Trials…one of the most prestigious, competitive, and celebrated meets in strength sports. TV cameras, reporters, thousands of fans in the audience, the top talent in America…in other words, the BIG TIME. And now, I was standing in an elementary school cafeteria in New Mexico getting ready compete in the curl with a bunch of, well…let’s just say NOT the top talent in America. And on top of that, like I said, I was doing…a curl.
 
I chuckled that day when it occurred to me how far the mighty had fallen, and I still chuckle when I think back about it. But do you want to know the best part? I had a terrific day of lifting in that little cafeteria. I curled 160 lbs., benched 295 lbs., and deadlifted 545 lbs., perfect 9/9 day. It felt great, the meet was a blast, and I still have the little trophy they gave me in the den of my house, sitting on the same shelf as my Olympic Trials plaque.
 
I think you’re probably starting to understand where I’m going with this. We’re talking about vastly different levels of competitive experience, and the ability to develop the right mental outlook for both of them that will produce the best performance you’re capable of. When I look back at it now, I obviously know that one of those meets has a lot more importance, status, and reverence in my life. The Trials were bigger than the New Mexico powerlifting meet, any way you want to look at it. However, I also understand that both of these days had some significance. The realization I think we’re driving towards is that anything you do in this sport, whether it’s a workout, big meet, small meet, or whatever…it ALL matters. Think about it like you’re putting a puzzle together. Would that puzzle ever be complete if you left out a few pieces because you didn’t think they were important? No. It wouldn’t look the same. Every piece matters, just like everything you make the decision to undertake in this sport matters. So you should never look at anything you do like it’s unimportant, even if it doesn’t look on the surface like it’s as important as something else you’ve previously done.
 
And here’s an even better one…
 
Parry O’Brien was one of the greatest shot putters of all time. Two-time Olympic Gold Medalist, world record holder, etc. O’Brien was a legend who basically revolutionized the shot put, and his name is instantly recognizable to anybody in track and field. He’s literally one of the best athletes in the history of his sport.
 
When O’Brien retired from his shot put career, he decided to take up swimming. He wanted a physical activity that would keep him in shape and, because he was Parry O’Brien, he very quickly decided to compete in masters swim meets. I heard a great story once about this. Apparently, O’Brien was in his 60s and very active in masters swimming, and he competed in a meet once where he won 3rd place in his race. At this meet, the competitors had to go to a desk next to the pool after their races to collect their medals.
 
So here was Parry O’Brien, double Olympic Gold Medalist, standing in a line with a bunch of old guys, waiting patiently to get his 3rd place masters swim meet medal. According to what I’ve heard, a couple of guys were razzing Parry about it a little bit, comments like, “Hey, don’t you already have enough medals?” But O’Brien wouldn’t budge. There was no way he was leaving the pool without his medal.
 
That medal was important to him, for the exact reasons we’re talking about here. One of the reasons O’Brien was such a great athlete was his seriousness about everything he did. To him, it didn’t matter if he was competing in the Olympics or some random masters swim meet. In his mind, it all mattered. He had the perspective we’re talking about.
 
And you could take this even further…
 
I actually think you could trickle this mentality into everything…your meals, your stretching, your attention to icing and recovery, the whole enchilada. It all matters.
 
That’s really what this article is about, and this is where we come to you and your life in weightlifting. I don’t know you, so I don’t know what level you’re going to rise to in the sport. Hopefully, you’ll go way beyond anything you originally considered when you got started. There would be nothing better than completely eclipsing any results you thought you were capable of.
 
However, that’s not the point. The point is that it doesn’t really matter what level you train and compete at. What really matters is the level of preparation, intensity, and passion you put into your level, and how much fulfillment you get from the experience. When I look back on that day in the cafeteria doing curl/bench/deadlift, I feel great about it. It was a day I trained for, I went there with expectations and goals, I nailed all my lifts, and I had a special time experiencing the camaraderie and appreciation of the audience and my competitors. I know it wasn’t the Olympic Trials. But it meant something to me, and it still does to this day.
 
Parry O’Brien waited in line for that masters swim medal because he had that same spirit, and it’s the spirit you need to have in your heart. The “big time” is wherever you’re at and whatever you’re doing. That’s the mental secret. Everything you DO is big time. This is why I don’t like it when athletes downplay or dismiss their achievements as unimportant or unimpressive. I just think that’s the wrong way to be, plain and simple. I’m not saying you should run around like a fool and put on a public performance where you try to make a masters swim meet seem like the Olympic Trials. You don’t want to embarrass yourself with bizarre behavior or anything like that. We’re talking about the approach you carry in your own mind, and how it applies to all the things you do, big and small. Trust me, you’ll enjoy your career a lot more if you have this mentality, and it’ll probably help you go higher as well. Best of luck to you.