I was just curious, what weight class are you lifting in as a Masters?
I am the coach for a powerlifting club. We compete in the IPF and under our national Olympic and sporting authority.
The structure of competitions allow for club points to lifters coming in 1-6th place. This encourages lifters who are not about to medal to compete, get club points, encourage and help their team mates, get experience, fosters team-spirit and so forth.
I think even "casual" lifters should compete occasionally. It focuses the attention wonderfully and really helps their progress.
I was just curious, what weight class are you lifting in as a Masters?
I agree with this sentiment. I don't compete to win or place. That would be disappointing, because so far I have gotten really good at coming in last.
My state's USAPL chapter does a good job of keeping records. Records can only be set at meets. I compete to mark my progress toward the state records.
To me, placing top in a meet is not a fair representation of strength. Certainly the best lifter there takes Gold. But that only means you were the best amongst those who happened to show up that day.
The record squat for my age and weight was set in 2008. If I beat that number, that means I am stronger than every lifter in my state who lifted at every meet over the past 7 years. To me, getting my lifts into state record territory is more important than coming in first.
Meets are counterproductive in this context. As an intermediate lifter enjoying the fruits of linear progression, meets are expensive. I don't set any PRs for 5 rep sets for two weeks before a meet. I spend two weeks after the meet recovering and getting back to the weight I was lifting before the meet. That's a solid month of progress that is lost.
I compete anyway, mostly because I don't like the term "recreational lifter." I don't recreate. I don't exercise. I train. I know when my next meet is and I have a plan.
Why would someone pay money to enter a meet, do a bunch of training specifically for the meet and then not try their best at the meet? I get if you're one of the top lifters in the world and you're treating your national level contest as a tune-up or something, but even then doing something that is 95% won't kill you. For the vast majority of us, it doesn't make much sense to not try your best? The sport is about setting PRs and improving afterall.
I can only answer for myself, but I have a couple of reasons:
1. The social aspect. Doing a contest is fun and lets you keep in touch with other lifters. In general, powerlifting is a great community to be part of.
2. By signing up for a contest, I've committed to a date where I'm going to test myself in front of a bunch of other people. That's quite motivating.
That's like comparing masturbation to getting laid.
Maybe competing really is not for everybody. You sacrifice for weeks to lift a couple more pounds on the platform, or to earn the right to lift in a weight class where you can hope to be the strongest. It costs a decent amount of money. The driving is always annoying and the weight cut is always hard. But then you get to finally step on the platform under the bright lights. The cheering goes from loud and overwhelming to barely noticeable. You get absolute tunnel vision. You have 100% of your focus on the lift you're attempting.
There's a wave of pure euphoria when you see those white lights come to life. Maybe you have to make a lift you're not sure you can in order to win or place in your division. Maybe you have no chance of losing or no chance of winning, but you have to put everything aside and just pull on that damn bar with everything you have and see if the Universe is going to allow you to lock out that PR deadlift you've planned and struggled to earn for so many weeks or months.
Just the way I'm built, I guess, but it fires me up good, and I spend the next 2 days physically drained, tired but wired, and barely able to sleep, eat, or drink. I guess it's a side effect of the adrenaline wearing off or something. But in the end, I know it makes me better. I know there's no comparison between a day in the gym and a day in front of the judges and the crowd. I can't imagine not doing it.
this. for too long, those tiny, half man cyclists have had it all their own way. Real men can't wear lycra unless they're a cyclist. Well I say it's time to take Lycra back from the lane hogging, traffic inducing, latte sipping cyclists and give it back to real men. tough men. men whose gut bulge obscures their package bulge.