Brand new Volt Nike Romaleos. Volt Nike socks. Purple and Volt Nike tights to match.
 
Fresh straps for snatches and pulls and black ACE bandages for squats. Iced coffee in one hand, iPhone in the other--you know, to catch the next PR to post to Insta.
 
Yep, that was me. Tight game on fleek and sock game stronger than my upper body. I always came to the gym ready to lift while doing my best to look good doing it. The problem was that my lifts weren’t speaking as loudly as my attempts to look cool were.
 
Before you judge me too hard, let’s rewind a bit…
 
A few years ago, I began my journey into the strength sports. I had found a really awesome gym with a great coach, and I was drawn to its atmosphere. Eventually, I started working out there multiple times a week- learning the basics of the squat, clean pulls, bench press, and accessory movements. Then I trained for a powerlifting meet, and shortly after that, I dove head first into weightlifting when my coach began to focus more on the classic lifts in his daily programming.
 
I won’t go into all the details of how and why weightlifting became so central to my life in such a short period, but during this time I realized something that would prove very important for my future: Weightlifting was not my lifestyle. Weightlifting was my hobby.
 
Based on my opening statements, it’s obvious I didn’t just suddenly come to this realization. There were a few key moments that led me to it, and I want to share them in hopes of providing some help for those who may be stuck between believing that weightlifting could be a career and knowing that just loving the sport and enjoying the lifts is completely acceptable, too.
 
Here are some of the signs that helped me know weightlifting was just a hobby for me:

1. Other aspects of my life needed to take priority over weightlifting.
   
   This is not to say that a career in weightlifting can’t be balanced with faith, family, education, work, and all of the other things that are important. I know this because I have friends who have made a living competing or coaching and have great lives. But for myself, I just knew--almost from the beginning-- that this was not my path because I valued quite a few things a lot more than being a weightlifter.

Did I want to be in the gym all the time? Yes.

Did my wife want me to be there all the time, away from her and my son? No.

I love the people I trained with, and I still consider many of them to be friends of mine. I enjoyed helping coach and mentor the younger athletes. But the problem was that I spent a lot more time just hanging out to be a part of the atmosphere than I did focusing on my personal goals and my own gains. Even my deepest reasons for being at the gym were not aligned with a desire to be great at the sport.

2. Despite reaping the some of the benefits of being a part of a team that had national-level lifters, I was neither at that level nor as dedicated to that cause as many of my teammates were.
   
   I was incredibly fortunate to be a part of the beginning of an amazing weightlifting team that has both included and produced some very good lifters. I got to be a part of some cool events. I even got a lot of free swag over the years.
   
   But I was not there all the time. I wasn’t doing two-a-days or even being consistent in training, which definitely kept me from the improvements that would have been necessary to even hope to qualify for a national meet. My teammates would be so beat up that they were taking ice baths in troughs outside, and I’d be ready to go play some soccer or basketball on the turf out back.
   
   I was also working for the gym at the time, and I constantly considered working those hours when training was going on in order to make that extra money. I was a great teammate, always trying to encourage those around me, and they were great to me as well, but it was pretty clear to them that I was there as more of a cheerleader than a fellow competitor.
    
3. I did not start weightlifting (or strength training, for that matter) until my late 20s.
   
   Some may see this as more of an excuse than a tell, and I would definitely agree that starting late does not disqualify you from being great, depending on where you’re at in life. But that’s not my point here.
   
   What I’m saying is that by my late 20s, I had already established my identity, started a family, and been in a career path that did not include being strong for a living. I was not going to dedicate the psychological, emotional, and physical energy into becoming good at the sport.

Now don’t get me wrong. My coach and some of my friends from the gym always encouraged setting goals, and I have a whole journal full of workouts with a page dedicated to crossing off numbers as I reached them. Even so, I knew that medaling at a National meet or making the Olympics was not in the cards.

4. A few of the most important people in my life were not in my corner.
   
   This one is highly personal and subjective. You may need to chase that dream of becoming great without the approval of those closest to you in order to achieve it. But for me, doing that would have had some devastating consequences that just were not worth the glory or success in the sport. These people supported my health and my desire to be a part of a team and part of something really cool, but they did not support other aspects including the demand of time vs. the monetary return for that time.

 
So what does this mean for me now?
 
Well, I’m still the guy who comes into the gym rocking the coolest weightlifting apparel in the world, and it’s really difficult to think about my personal health and fitness without the barbell as a central part of that. That said, I’m also free to explore other sports and methods of fitness without thinking that I’m cheating on weightlifting. I am free to take things less seriously, too, hence being able to poke fun at myself and my perceived gym fashion sense.
 
I have an understanding with those closest to me that my life is not revolving around the gym and that when I work out, it’s important time for me but not a larger priority than my family and friends. I’m also free to enjoy the sport.
 
We had a lot of fun where I trained, but there were eventually aspects of it that did not fit what I really needed out of a gym family. I don’t get as much free stuff anymore because I’m not on a team that has sponsorships and connections. Instead, I get to spend money that I earn from my job to support my hobby--but mainly to support my family, which is the highest priority.
 
What does this mean for you?
 
In a nutshell, if you know that a national medal or international team is not in the cards for you, feel free to take the pressure off yourself. A lot of people work full-time jobs and qualify for national meets and have a great time competing, but there will always be more important things than what you’re able to do with that barbell in front of a crowd of people. Prioritize what’s important for you, determine what level of effort you want to put into the sport, and then have fun crushing some snatches and clean and jerks.
 
And if you’re unsure of whether or not you should be more focused or just doing this awesome sport for the fun of it, ask your coach or your closest training partners. I hope they’ll be honest enough to tell you that it’s probably just a hobby for you (because, you know, those who want to be great probably know it already).