A while ago, I wrote the first installment of a series entitled, "It Started With A Picture" chronicling the organization of a strongman contest from start to finish. Only the first of three parts was published, but the other two are still in the works. (I assure you they are coming soon.) They have been delayed because I have been busy organizing and promoting the 2nd annual installment of the subject of the piece; the Waseca County Fair's Strongest Man. It has been no small task, particularly since I was busy training to compete in the contest at the same time.
I took the day off work the day before the contest to put all the pieces together and tie up the loose ends. By Friday at 3:00, everything that could be done in advance was checked off the list, so I took a nap in hopes of taking my mind off the upcoming frenzy. About 30 minutes into my nap, the first call came in from a competitor wanting to weigh in early. I rolled off the couch and got the scale ready as I waited for what would turn out to be the first of five competitors wanting to weigh in early over the next three hours. At 6:30, the last of the five finally weighed in, I headed down to the ballpark to forget about everything and watch my brother's town baseball team play.
I did nothing for three hours but watch and cheer, but after the game, I was exhausted. I'd spent the last two weeks scrambling around getting things prepared for the contest; so much so I hardly had any time to train. Regardless, I had an early morning ahead of me at the fairgrounds to get everything set up before the contest, so I skipped the usual post game beers and socializing in the clubhouse and headed back to my parents' house for a full night's sleep.
The next morning, I awoke around 7:00am and ate a quick breakfast of fried eggs and lamb sausage before heading off to the fairgrounds. The first hour, my dad and I did all the menial tasks: hauling some of the equipment out of the storage buildings, measuring and marking the start and finish lines for the truck pull, setting up the seating for the competitors and the scorers table under the tent. Not too long after we completed the last of those chores, the first competitors started trickling in and the rest of the equipment arrived in two truckloads. My dad helped unload equipment while I focused on getting all of the competitors weighed in, registered, and armed with goodie bags donated by Jackal's Gym.
If the last paragraph seems a little frantic, it's because that's exactly how I was feeling. No matter how well one prepares for such an event, the last half day before the green flag drops is always a blur. Between collecting entry fees and registration forms, making sure all the equipment was in place and functional, and stopping briefly to shake hands with well-wishers who'd read the story on me in the local paper, I was running around like a whiz-bang with no off switch. It's a very poor way to get mentally prepared. About 30 minutes before the start, I was relieved of my promoter duties in order to get loosened up and prepared to compete.
The first event of the day, the truck pull, was set up exactly the same as last year. Unlike last year's contest, however, this year had a 200lb class in the lightweight division. When the first competitor in the 200lb class strapped into the harness and started to pull, nothing happened. At first, the judges thought the truck driver might have his brakes on, but that theory was soon disproved. After some more investigation, it was determined that the beginning of the pull was on a slight incline. Because the last two-thirds of the pull are on a slight decline, I intentionally set up the course to start on the uphill side of the crest in the road. This was supposed to do two things. First, it would ensure that the event wasn't a full-out sprint that resulted in times so close that the winner was determined by an itchy stopwatch finger. Second, it determined who was the strongest, not just the fastest. Despite my recommendations based on last year's contest, the judges decided to move the truck ahead 20' to start at the top of the grade. Not only would this make it easier for the 200lbers to get started, it meant the 231's would also start from the shortened mark in order to score all of the lightweights against each other.
The men of the 200lb class took their runs from the adjusted starting line and, over the now 80' course, turned in times that hovered around the 30 seconds mark. Those of us in the 231 class realized we'd have to put on our track shoes if we wanted to tally maximum points for the event. As I stepped into the Ironmind pulling harness and prepared for my run, the only things on my mind were "fast feet" and "stay low". When I finally stepped up to the line and got the signal to start pulling, it only took me a few seconds to set the 12 ton tractor in motion. Once it was moving at a good clip, I tossed the guide rope off to the side and chopped my feet as fast as possible, constantly reminding myself to put my finger tips on the ground to maintain a low center of gravity and remain as efficient as possible. When I crossed the finish line, I was barely fatigued and I knew I'd put up a decent time. How it stood up to the rest remained to be seen.
When all 13 lightweights had gone, the 200's were separated by 8 seconds from first place through eighth, while the 231s were separated by 1.92 seconds from first to last place. My time of 26.29 seconds was only 1.33 seconds off the leader, yet was only good enough for 4th place out of 5 in the 231s and 5th of 13 in the overall lightweights. Last year, I finished the 100' course with the same truck in 43.00 seconds. Had the distance been the same this year, I have no doubt that my time would have been much better, along with my placing.
The second event of the day was unquestionably going to be my worst. Not only is the deadlift my weakest lift in the gym, the car deadlift frame that we were using had quite a bit of flex in it. This meant that the full weight of my dad's Pontiac Grand Prix we were lifting wouldn't kick in until just above the knees, which happens to be my weakest spot. Despite this being my worst event, I chose it for this year's contest in the hopes that it would be an easy draw for a sponsorship from one of the local car dealerships. Plans don't always work out, but my dad was able to get another sponsor for the car deadlift, and we secured a genuine, operational police cruiser for the heavyweights to lift, so the event went as planned.
In the end, I was only able to manage four reps, which put me squarely in 4th place for the second event in a row. Watching my friend and training partner, Atilla Gabrielli pull 17 reps for the victory in the lightweights was exciting, but the real drama didn't happen until the heavyweights strapped in. As the first competitor attempted to lift the Waseca County Sheriff's car off the ground, his knee blew out leaving him writhing on the ground. Karl Gillingham, who was judging the event, said it sounded like someone tearing fabric. A quick check by the physio on site (http://www.drclarydc.com/) confirmed that the gruesome tearing sound was the man's medial collateral ligament, or MCL. As the medical staff put the injured competitor on a stretcher and took him to the ambulance, the second heavyweight stepped up to challenge the cruiser. His first rep went up smooth, but his attempt for a second left him in the exact same position as the first competitor: on the ground, writhing. This time, the diagnosis was a lateral collateral ligament, or LCL. The ambulance crew got a two-for-one deal on strongman competitors.
By the end of the second event, I knew I was going to have to step it up if I wanted to finish in one of the top two positions and qualify for nationals. Not only was I firmly in 4th place, but the guy in 5th place had to drop out due to injury. Instead of an event win being worth 5 points, it was now only worth four, which was going to make gaining ground even more of a chore since Atilla, the leader, had nine points to my four, with only three events remaining. Luckily, the last three events of the day were my strongest.
The keg press is an event that my dad and I came up with as a way of drawing good sponsorship money. Not only would this fulfill the pressing event in the contest, it also gave eight local liquor establishments an opportunity to donate an empty keg and pay us money to advertise during our contest. Why have only one sponsor when you can have eight? It was genius on my dad's part, and it's also one of my better events.
With the last place competitor having dropped out of the contest, I was the first 231 to step up to the kegs. I blasted through the 160lb and 182lb kegs in a time that would have earned me first place in the event had I stopped there. I couldn't stop, though. I had no idea what the men behind me were going to put up for a score. Besides, last year I'd only pressed the first two and I wanted to beat my previous mark. I stepped up to the third keg, a 205-lb sand filled cylinder, and went to pop it up to my chest. The first attempt didn't quite get up high enough for me to initiate my press, but I quickly brought it back down to my lap and popped it up to my chest, where I stood with it for a moment to catch my breath. Then, with a big leg drive and a nice pop of the arms, I locked it out above my head. The final, 225 lb keg didn't go so well. Considering that none of the other competitors even got the third keg, though, I was thoroughly pleased with my victory. Despite my dominant performance on the kegs, Atilla was right behind me in second place, meaning I'd only gained one point on him in the overall standings. The comeback had commenced. Kind of.
The penultimate event of the day was the tire flip, another one of my strong events. The tire we were using was familiar enough. Both Atilla and I have trained with that exact 780lb hunk of rubber many times together. Usually he bests me, but once in a while I get the upper hand. If I was going to have any chance of winning, today would have to be one of those few times. After three events in the hot summer sun, anything is possible.
Because I won the keg press event, I got to watch Atilla go immediately before me and complete the 8 flips required to finish the course in 43.48 seconds. As I prepared myself at the starting line for my turn, I knew Atilla's time would be tough to beat. The first two flips were a bit tough for me, which is unusual. Maybe it was the heat, but I just couldn't seem to find my rhythm. Instead of deadlifting the tire to a 60 degree angle in one fluid motion and driving it over with a quick shoulder drive, I had to rest it on my knee to find my grip and continue with the flip. On the third flip, it started going a little better, but I could feel the fatigue setting in. By the time I finished the sixth flip, I felt like I'd been going at it for an hour. I started wondering if I would be able to finish at all when I heard the time keeper say, "You've got a good time going". Suddenly, I felt rejuvenated. Perhaps beating Atilla was still possible. I finished up the last two flips and nearly collapsed before I could get the time from the judge.
51.51 seconds. Eight seconds slower than Atilla, but still good enough for second place in the event.
By now, Atilla had widened his lead enough to assure victory, regardless of the outcome of the final event. My 1st and 2nd place finishes in the last two events had moved me up to third place, only one point behind newcomer, Orion Deters, and we were going into my best event, the atlas stones. Victory in the event should have been a foregone conclusion, but at the end of a contest, anything is possible in the stones, especially in the 95 degree heat. I had to finish at least two places ahead of Orion to secure second place and an invitation to the national championships in Las Vegas in November.
I went back to the tent to put my tacky on when one of my biggest fears materialized. It's often said that it's the little things that make the difference between being good and being the best, and in this instance, it was the truth. As I went into my tacky bag to pull out my Elite brand hot weather tacky, I found that I'd run out and forgotten to buy more. I was going to have to make my stone run with normal tacky, which usually turns to syrup in temps over 80 degrees. I dipped four fingers into the plastic container and pulled out a glob of normal tacky, which was nearly the consistency of honey in the hot summer sun, and spread it down the length of my forearms and palms. I would need the stone run of my life if I wanted to walk away as the king of stones for the day.
I shot through the first three stones at a blazing pace, but wore all of my tacky off my arms by the time I got to the fourth stone. To prepare for not having any of the thicker tacky, I put a large glob of it on each bicep so it would be readily available during the run if I needed it. By the time I got to the fourth stone, all of the tacky I'd spent ten minutes applying to my forearms and hands was on the first three stones and I had to dig into the reserves on my biceps to be able to get a grip on the last two. I loaded the fourth stone with some considerable effort, I wasn't able to budge the final, 355 lb stone so my time stood at 28.8 seconds through four stones.
I was fine with that, though, because if I couldn't load the final stone, I was sure Atilla couldn't either. Plus, Orion didn't fare too well on his attempt at the stones just prior to my run and I was hoping to put some distance between us to ensure a runner up finish in the final standings. I just needed Atilla to load 4 or fewer stones in more than 28.8 seconds. It was his day, however, and no one could take that from him. He bested me by 1.82 seconds. It was the first time he's ever defeated me in the stones and it was a fitting finish to his defense of his first contest win.
As it turned out, I was still good enough on the last three events to secure second position...by a point. It was the exact same as I'd finished last year, and while I was disappointed I didn't win, I was happy it was over. The last four or five months of preparation had taken a serious toll on my sanity. That, along with training, competing, and still playing rugby had worn me to the point of mental and physical exhaustion. My body and mind both needed a break and my cup shaped trophy comfortably held two beers, which made for a really good start.
Posted by Ben Hanson at 11:49 AM