The Early Days
The squat for me has put me out of more meets than I've finished. Its probably my favorite lift and also my least favorite all in one. All my life I've had strong legs and been a decent squatter. I grew up playing golf (actually went to college on a scholarship). Our local course was nothing but hills, it felt like nearly every hole was up hill. So I developed legs much stronger then all the kids in my class. I loved to squat in school. Even after I tripped over a mat and dropped 135 straight off my back across my left pinkie smashing it between the bar and the rack causing permanent nerve damage in that finger. There was just no stopping me form squatting! In 10th grade I box squatted 500 for reps (high school box a smidge high and by that I mean at least 6-8"). This is where the problem started 14 years ago (fuck I'm old).
My first full meet was a success. I hit an easy 689 or whatever it was using kilo plates and stumbled with 715 on my third or it would've came up as well. I decided I was going to do another meet over in GA at the end of the summer. After this I did the worst thing I could have done. I found youtube! I got to watching big lifts on video. This was way back in 2006. Around this time high squats were being passed left and right (damn I thought that shit just started happening). So I trained to what I thought was good depth or close to it on the box (a little north of high). About 10 weeks out I put on my suit and never got to the box (yeah baby cutting a high box squat high). Oh well Its close enough, or so I thought. I get to the meet and I bomb! I bet you seen that coming like a tanker truck on fire. I spent my entire summer for this meet and now after three shit shows of attempts Im on my way home. A developing problem started in the training for this meet, using a box way to often and using one that was way to high.
Feeling like I wasted months of my life I found another meet to do and began training for it right away. I did a mondo band tension phase that left me strong as shit for the meet but it was way to advanced for where I was as a lifter. The week before the meet my handler tells me he cant get off work to go so Im making the track by myself. Again I trained to depth that was pretty close all cycle (being serious I was close to true depth but not quite there). I get to the meet and I'm killing everything in the warm ups and I go out and miss the first on depth. I see the dreaded fingers about an inch apart. The second attempt same thing but about a half inch. Normally I have a depth call but I was by myself here so I went to where I thought I was good then a little lower and came up. Third a friend I had made at the meet said he would yell up I hear up and come up but again the dreaded 1/2" away from one side judge and a red from the head judge. I could get pissed and say my friend called me early or the head judge ran it home with no lube but that's not the case, I just didn't know where I really needed to be and its no ones fault but my own here. I felt satisfied and not like a complete failure because I had made improvements to my lifting and I was learning from my mistakes.
I had a pretty bad leg injury, a promotion at work and top that off with a depression (this shit inst a recession folks) and I spent some time away from competing. Fast forward a few years to 2009 and I was going to try my hand again at a meet. Me and a training partner drove all the way up to Columbus to do Dan Dagues pro am. What a complete waist of time and money! We had about as much business being there as Billy Mimnaugh going to have Christmas dinner with Barack Obama. They were calling shit super strict and we weren't training any where near where we needed. We blamed the judges! Why??? Because we are men! We know what we are doing! After bombing out of my next three meets on depth I realized shit maybe my training is wrong (I did hear up at a few of those but again my fault for not knowing where depth really was). The next year I did manage to get a 750 squat (only about 150lbs off what I had tried before) and finish a meet. After this I was like hell yeah we are back on track! Wrong time to learn again dumb ass.
The 2010 Series of Blunders
Here is where another series of dumbassness occurs, see new Websters for definition and a pic of me! A good friend of mine is holding a meet in North Myrtle Beach. I talked the ex into letting me do the meet as a vacation for us (I am a salesman by trade) but my stupid ass got fucking lost on the way down and booked a room off price line in Myrtle instead of North Myrtle. Well its not that big a deal but I drove around for hours looking for this shit hole before realizing the fuck up I had made. Finally we get me weighed in (exactly 12lbs off from training) and make it to the room just in time for Ocean Boulevard to be packed (who knew a popular summer vacation spot would be so packed in the height of vacation season). I knew I was in trouble big time here and I seriously needed to pack on some weight.
At this time doing a meet was about the last thing I needed to do. My marriage was about to blow up, neither of us could stand the other one. After a bit of fighting in the hotel room we ended up eating a small dinner at the hotel, fighting allot more, and going to bed. The next day I was trying out some cool new supplements for the first time at the meet (cheque drops), Again stupid idea! I didn't know what the fuck I was doing or how to take them. I knocked them back and felt great. All my warm ups were easy as shit. Three lifters out I'm ready to chew nails. As my knees are wrapped and its time to lift I just wanted to lay down and cry, the shit had wore off!!!! I seriously didn't know how fast they wore off or how shitty you feel when they do and you crash. Well my opener was only 775 I did that in briefs during training so I should be able to motor it up anyway, WRONG! It was three strikes and you're out again! With my weight being only 285 the day before the meet (down even more the morning of) my gear gave me exactly nothing as far as rebound goes and somehow a side panel on my suit blew out. I really thought about driving my truck into the ocean and ending it all here, but thats a pussy way out and although I love the stuff Im not a pussy.
I broke down and bought a new suit after that meet but the miss of 775 three times is in my head. I had damn near squatted 875 in 2009 in a good fitting suit only to miss 100lbs less a year later. I finally got over it by blaming it on the suit being worn out. With the new suit I was back to handling the big weights again but this thing was way to tight. I needed a size up but I wasn't thinking clear, again major relationship and financial problems (my ex could blow some money). We had over 10k in the bank in March only to be flat broke by the end of summer, luckily I was able to rat hole a little bit for a down payment on my truck. I found a small local meet to do that wouldn't require me to get a hotel next. This made the ex stip yelling for about 32 seconds. She lost her job for being an idiot in the mean time. I get up to the meet and I bombed again on depth. This time I made the mistake of using a suit that was tight and getting a nice bloat on the night before the meet. Again 775 was in my head, I just ate it in July. I knew I needed at least 800 to get down in my suit but I called for 780 as an opener. Fuck I am a pussy! I tried to open to light out of fear and just couldn't get down. I did call for 800 on the third and sat there for a day and blasted it up but I couldn't get low enough (thank you Wendys for your late night delicious bloat). I knew after that third attempt I could do 900 if I got out of my head. Back to training!
2011-Present
I plan on the ironman classic as my next meet. We had a few new people join the gym (we had 4 people now as opposed to 2). Training started pretty good for this meet. I did way to much suit work but overall things went well. Me and the Ex finally split and I came to the meet under weight but I was strong! The bitch cleaned out my bank account again the week of the meet. She left me with $300 to my name with about $1000 in bills to come out including my house payment. Fuck it I worked to hard to not do the meet. I killed 835 on my opener and I took it extra deep to make sure. A bad unrack on my second left me on my toes and I cut 870 high. I called for 885 on my third but a few lifters before I got the best gift a handler has ever given me. Brandon Lilly, who had become a close friend, gets in my face and tells me: "you're not fucking here to do 885, we are going 900 and if you quit thinking a listen you're going to come up with it". I had a good pick up but got a little forward in the bottom and left my hips a little higher then I wanted but it never slowed down on the way up. I got my first elite that day, even with no sign of a deadlift!
The next year though would see me fail twice more. I had some personal issues arise (its called depression and drinking). My ex had really fucked with my head and dicked me over. She moved in with my folks and put a wedge between us thats still there somewhat. She also stole some shit from my house, cut up a bench shirt, tried to get me fired and arrested while she was there. I decided at SPF Nationals when Louie Simmons asked my why I wasn't lifting that it was time to stop getting smashed! But after getting past all that I fell back into the old habit of squatting on a box to much and squatting high. I did this because I wanted to squat 1000lbs more then I wanted to be alive and my mind was fucked up with my personal situation. I came down with nasty bug right before the meet I picked out that left my stomach all out of whack. The morning we are supposed to leave my handler informs me via text he isnt going. He got popped with a bogus dui the night before, it was truly bogus as he has gone on to beat it. I should've backed out but all I could see was that number. The night before the meet I got sick again. I was bowing to the porcelain gods and shitting my brains out until about 4 in the morning. This left me dehydrated as hell. On my last warm up I popped a rib out and well it fucked my back and head up. 935 (way to high of an opener) kicked my ass and I was on my way home after the squats. I decided to do the ironman again right after this. But a misload and injury left me out of the meet after only one attempt. Probably for the best, I had some serious demons in my head at the meet and really didn't need to be there.
By now you must be thinking how fucking stupid can Dave really be. Why in the hell is he still going, he should quit. Don't feel bad, reading it I'm thinking the same thing. Don't worry I learned my lesson on the squat! I had some shit talk come my way. People were trolling me on outlaws and some so called friends were talking shit. I'm pretty easy going but when I get pissed off I take shit to a new level. The APF was holding its nationals in Myrtle Beach and I decided it was time to shut people up. I backed all my weights down in training. My goal for this meet was to finish it, hit a pr total, and prove to myself I am a good lifter that can get lifts passed anywhere. Training went very well. A long time friend and training partner told me "you got a look in your eye I've never seen before, you're gonna have a good meet".
I get down there and as I'm helping a friend out the day before I lift I see how damn deep I'm going to need to squat. Normally I would either do one of two things think they will give us big guys a pass and bomb out trying to be king dick or get intimidated and fail out of fear. I did get a little intimidated but only enough to lower my opener 20lbs to be safe. The day of the meet I wasn't myself. I loaded up on a ton of shit (I'm fucking db from outlaws, what do you expect). I was in a mood I haven't ever felt before. I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt I'm getting a squat in.
My friend Ann came to check on me before warm ups and left immediately She went and told my gf "I don't know what the fuck he took but I'm scared to talk to him". I had found my "spot" for where I need to be at meets. I need to get in a rage so I don't talk myself out of lifting and doing what I need to do. Warm ups went great but I overheard a few comments. One "theres no way in hell that dumb ass can get one in, I don't even know why he even thinks he can". I just smiled. I came out for my opener and I picked it up perfect, "hold...arch...flare...3,2,1, up up up and rack" is all I remember hearing. After that I called for 881 that could've been a little lower but it passed then a picture perfect 917 (missed due to jumping the squat command). I went on to go 6 for 9, (7 for 9 in my head due to the jumped command) and knew I would've done even better if not for a faulty bench shirt.
Finally!!!!
After this meet I know I can go anywhere and lift. I'm not scared of squatting deep. The squat for me is like that crazy bitch you love so much, you know the one that gives you the best happy endings but she may set fire to your car and leave you with a set of blue balls if you don't warm it up just right. For seniors I quit thinking about a number. My only focus was to crush my opener and make it a joke. I had finally applied all my failures and success into something. I'm not scared to train my squats well below parallel. I'm not scared to take any weight "to the basement". Most I'm sure would've quit by then but every time I failed I learned from it. If I didn't think I still had a chance to be a good lifter I would've quit after the first bomb out. Now here I am planning another meet. I've already taken some pretty big weights really deep and I'm confident I will do well at this one. I don't know why I'm blogging or if anyone will even read this but those of you who may just learn from my failures
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