Everything is a learning experience if you choose it to be.
This weekend was a big experience for me. Sitting in the head judging chair started off on the wrong foot, then competing on Sunday. No, I didn’t set any PRs. No, I didn’t hit my average competition numbers. No, I didn’t do better than my last meet. But I walked away knowing that I made smart choices.
The planning started midweek. Programming for clients, updating feedback, and handling communication. Friday was a long day. I finished behind schedule but still got on the road at a reasonable time. During the drive, I quizzed myself relentlessly on the USA Powerlifting fault color code system, making sure I understood errors so I’d be prepared on the platform… or so I thought.
Athlete check-in started at 5pm Friday. I made sure to walk a lot due to previous back injuries and nerve sensations down my legs when sitting too long. The body adapts to the posture you place it in, so I’ve been working on my capacity to tolerate sitting. The drive wasn’t too bad, pain stayed below a 2. I grabbed a poke bowl and used it as an excuse to explore the city and reset my posture. The buildings felt elaborate, almost like I was in Rome (I’ve never been, but I imagine it like that).
Sleep is always tough when I travel. Hotel rooms are never quite right, the temperature, blankets, mattress. I’m used to consistent conditions. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep more than two hours straight all weekend.
Saturday rolled around. In pursuit of my national level judging certification, I volunteered to judge. I met my left side judge before the event. Ironically, his name was Chris. A retired powerlifter (70+), former champion bench presser. He used to bench over 350lbs until his shoulder gave out, now he can barely lift a 10lb dumbbell without pain. Still, he stayed involved, giving back to the sport.
I felt confident stepping in as head ref.
Lifter one comes out, unracks the bar, and waits for the start command. I check my right judge ready. I look left… 10, then 20 seconds go by. From the lifter’s perspective, it must’ve felt like an eternity. The left judge never signals.
99% of the time, if a side judge doesn’t signal, it’s because the knees aren’t locked. According to the rules, the lifter can rerack if no command is given. To save him energy, I told him to rerack and explained the issue. He steps off, then is told he still has time. He comes back, unracks again, right judge signals immediately. I made the executive decision to start the lift, even if it meant risking a red light from the left side.
He crushed the opener. Perfect depth, control and no errors.
At that point, I thought, “Okay, Chris must just be extremely strict.”
Then lifter two comes out… same situation. Waiting. Waiting. No signal. That’s when I realized, he either didn’t understand the system, giving me a hard time or just going rouge on me. From that point on, I made the decision to not even look at him for a ready cue.
That was a big realization, at higher levels, you may have to deal with incompetence. You need to be ready to make fast, decisive calls. I almost screwed up the first lifters attempt. It still is extremely an unsettling to think of and probably will be for a long time.
The rest of the day was a fatigued grind. Each lifter added to the sleep deprivation. Judging required mental energy that carried into the body. By the end of session one, I was drained. Side judge Chris came up, shook my hand, and told me I did a great job. I think he genuinely just didn’t know.
After dinner with my roommate (another USAPL judge in his mid-20s who stopped lifting due to injury but is staying involved), I expected to sleep. Night two was even worse.
Sunday, meet day.
Weigh-ins at 6:30am. Openers:
Squat: 170 kg
Bench: 127.5 kg
Deadlift: 207.5 kg
I made weight but had to eat and drink to make sure I was over the minimum. 2kg over fully dressed. Last meet I was 5kg heavier. Long term goal, I’m slowly cutting down with the goal of competing in the 75kg class by 2027.
I had a few hours before warming up, so I did core rehab work and meditated (which probably looked like I was sleeping on the convention center floor). Being alone with my breath only brought a sense of peace. No expectations, no attachments. Just freedom.
Squat warm-ups went as planned. 160 felt a bit heavier than expected.
170 on the platform felt good → went to 180 → felt laborious.
190 would’ve been just above my average, but I chose 187.5 kg slightly above my last meet. On the ascent, my right erector/lat started to hurt. I didn’t panic, just moved on. Curious to see how it felt later.
Bench warm-ups felt off. Even 2.5kg under my opener felt heavy. I lowered my opener to 125.
Bench has historically been my weakest lift and most inconsistent lift. I often only secure my opener. The platform rug was slick, my foot slipped during setup, and 125 felt hard.
I adjusted my setup. Better tension, better position.
127.5 felt slightly harder than expected. Went to 130 clean lift, felt solid. I probably had 132.5, but we don’t get four attempts.
Deadlift followed the same pattern. Warm-ups felt heavy, so I lowered my opener.
197.5 → moderately hard
202.5 → very hard
205 → everything I had
I focused on full body tension, setting position properly, and committing to the pull. Form slipped slightly, but it was a clean lift. Relief hit instantly “I’m finally done.”
Between attempts, I focused on breathing and calming my heart rate. I knew I wasn’t setting PRs that day and that’s okay.
I still walked away accomplished:
I competed5kg lighter than last meet
I judged all day before
I slept terribly and didn’t let that sway me
Went 9/9
Stayed injury-free
That’s experience. Making smart decisions on game day.
There were moments where I wanted PRs but that expectation wasn’t realistic. Shit happens. What matters is how adaptable you are in the moment.
Zooming out, I had never judged all day and competed the next. I learned that no matter how prepared you are, you must make real-time decisions.
The best powerlifters are adaptable.
And being a better lifter doesn’t always mean more weight on the bar. It means performing at your maximum that day, avoiding injury, and learning from the experience.
Here’s the hard truth:
If you compete long enough, your lifts will go up and down.
Most lifters quit after a bad meet or an injury. That’s when they realize competing isn’t for them and that’s okay. But experienced athletes who are committed stay in the game go through both decline and progress.
If you are a lifter who can’t handle performance fluctuations, competing once a year (or less) might suit you better. But let it be known that if you rely heavily on the bar weight to go up and fail like a failure if it doesn’t, maybe this isn’t the sport for you. But if are a lifter who wants real experience and wisdom and have it applicable to real life, you have to appreciate the downturns even more than the highs, and understand the value of what each experience teaches you.