Don't wait for injury to make you better

What's that old saying?  "If I had known then what I know now, blah blah blah."  Back in my teens and twenties I couldn't care less about what that meant or who said it.  All that mattered was what was directly in front of me.  My next move in life, the next goal.  I was a real prick.

I was and still am passionate, but back then it was misdirected.  Passion is great, but like glasses without lenses, passion is useless without focus.

My passion for lifting and competing was cultivated out of an awakening in my twenties that I was fat and weak.  Like the big bang, I was a single point of energy that exploded in every direction.  My only destination was "further" from where I started, but the journey was linear and aimless.  All that mattered was the results.

This mentality followed me through my "training adolescents" and with me into my 30's (probably midlife at this rate.)  As much experience as I thought I had, it didn't stop me from accruing avoidable injuries.

If I could go back 10 years, back to the young stud with so much potential, I'd tell myself one thing:  "Don't wait for injury to lift better."

Back then I'd have scoffed at it.  Since I was invincible and totally blind to my own little mistakes.  The problem is, those little mistakes added up over the course of a decade and bit me in the ass last year.

But since suffering a 4 level back injury and spending months and months recovering, I'm now a better lifter.

As of this writing, about 7 months after the injury that doctors said would end my lifting as I knew it, I am within 85% of my deadlift and more than 90% of my squat, and I'm in no type of rush.

So how am I a better lifter with lower lifts?

Back injuries are very serious are often the last coffin nail in a competitive career in strength sports. So I started back slowly, with an empty barbell.  I stretched a lot, and I focused on the most important thing, form.

But when form became my first priority, the weights just flew up.  It was like fucking magic.

The proof for me is waking up in the morning with LESS pain now than before the injury.  The constant shit form had been taking it's toll on me for some time.  Not until I stopped flexing nuts, swallowed my pride and started doing it right did the pain disappear.  Even now with so much damage, I have very little nerve pain and my disc bulges have resolved themselves before another herniation.

Injury has forced me how to squat better.  Slowing everything down and going though the motion in my head has resulted in a better squat, and one day soon, a heavier squat because of it.

Having that back injury has made me learn sumo in a way that no video or article would have been able to teach.  In the past, my sumo deadlift was basically mailed in.  It usually ended up being a wide stance RDL.  ALL back, no hips. And I didn't give a fuck because I was a conventional puller who only did sumo cause the sheet of paper said to.

Once I had to learn something just to be able to continue on, I learned it.  But the tragedy is that it took a life long injury to finally wake me up.

Injury didn't make me a better lifter, rather, injury forced me to learn to lift better.

I want to really impress that on younger lifters.  Don't sacrifice your body for a number. Slow down and trust in the training.  If you can't do it with the same form, then you can't lift it.  You can get a lot further doing it right than yanking on the bar and praying it goes well.

What's the rush?  Part of what I like about competing in Powerlifting and strongman is training for it.  But rushing through cycles and forcing ugly PR's wasn't going to last forever. Instead I wish I had just done the quality work and gotten stronger rather that focus so much on numbers in training where they don't count.  I made the time to be there training, so I had better make the best use of that time. Anything less than that is just slowing me down toward my goals.

I mean if you only have a month left as a junior and you want to squat a record before your birthday and you grind out the ugliest squat for two whites to get that trophy sword, I get it.  But what happens when your birthday comes and now you're in open where your squat isn't the best anymore?  What the hell did you really prove, and how much of your future did you gamble for it?  You'll never make it pro if you fuck yourself up permanent in pop warner.

I'm still here today, so what was my rush?  Why did I let myself round over a little just to "get" the lift, or the rep pr?  Where does that leave you after an injury?  In a shoe store selling shoes to large women and reminiscing about throwing touchdowns at Polk High?

I have a lot more responsibility under that bar now.  I have a family to provide for, so I need to be able to work.  I have to be able to walk when I'm a cranky old son of a bitch.  I have to make sure the lift in front of me is chosen with my head and not my balls.  These are things that should have been in the front of my mind from day one, but weren't.

Injury has forced me to slow down and see the track that I should have been on all along.  I wish it hadn't happened, but since I can't change the past I look to the future.  And the only thing that keeps me lifting on for years is paying attention, staying humble and doing it fucking right. 

I highly recommend those last three.