01/25/2025
Still riding the high from last Saturday at War of the North, and I wanted to take a moment to reflect on why I compete. It might be a little wordy, but I promise it’s worth the read.
The first time I was introduced to strongman was in a friend’s garage. The raw, gritty nature of it immediately pulled me in. There was a group of 10–15 people, all at different strength levels and weight classes, but none of that mattered—everyone was cheering each other on through their respective lifts. It felt tribal, and I knew right then that I wanted to be a part of it.
What I didn’t realize at the time was just how much I’d fall in love with competing. Getting out in front of people and pushing myself to perform at my absolute best is something I’ve always gravitated toward—whether it was playing in bands, skateboarding, or now, strongman. There’s a certain high that comes with it, and I’ve learned to chase that feeling.
But as I’ve thought about it more, I’ve realized that the real spark isn’t just the competition itself—it’s the nerves before the competition that make it special. That feeling used to hit me before my hockey games as a kid. It’s the uncertainty of how you’ll perform under pressure, the question of whether your skill and strength will be enough to hang with the competition. It’s that knot in your stomach, the doubt creeping in, the fear of losing, underperforming, or straight-up failing.
But the more time you spend with those nerves, the more you learn to harness them. They become fuel. A coach friend of mine put it perfectly: “If you’re not getting nervous before a competition, you’re not invested enough.” And I couldn’t agree more.
And this doesn’t even begin to cover the community I’ve found in strongman. I’ve made lifelong friends—people I genuinely couldn’t imagine my life without—all because of this sport.
I’m saying all this to tell you: find your tribe. Find something you care about deeply enough that the thought of failing at it makes you nervous. Find something you’re proud to put out into the world, even if you’re not the best at it. And then do it. Over and over again.
