When I first started lifting, I didn’t know my own physical limits. So I started light. (One of Jim Wendler’s maxims is “”Start Light and Go Slow.” I trust Jim Wendler.)
The amount of weight I was lifting at the time didn’t require much concentration. I could lift and talk at the same time. Or lift and listen to a motivational podcast or an educational podcast. Or lift and also think about something else.
In other words, though my body was busy lifting, my mind was engaged in doing other things. It was only when the weight bumped up against my own limits that I discovered the mental side of lifting.
I remember the day when my squat got so heavy it intimidated me just to step underneath the bar. That’s when I knew that I had to stop thinking about anything else.
I couldn’t talk to other people. I couldn’t listen to podcasts. I had to focus 100% of my concentration on getting that weight back up.
So I learned to shut the other things out and focus my mind as well as my body.
Then one day, I came up against another limit.
My son & I were lifting one day in his garage. I was going to attempt a PR in my squat. Now, when my son lifts, he generally has some sort of metal blaring on the sound system.
Me? Up to that point, I could take it or leave it. I didn’t care about the music.
He said, “here – let me help.”
And he put this on the sound system and turned it up LOUD:
Something started happening in my body and mind as well. My focus intensified. My perception narrowed. Everything else disappeared. I was in a battle for my life. There was nothing in my world except me and that bar. And the music blasting out of those speakers was the soundtrack of my battle.
My battle.
I was going to war.
I took a deep breath, stood up, unracked that weight, and squatted a PR like it was nothing.
Then I did it again.
And yet again for a 3rd rep.
I re-racked the weight and a primal roar exploded from me. I couldn’t help it. It was instinctive, visceral, triumphant. I had faced and conquered a weight that scared the crap out of me.
And the music was the missing ingredient.
I spend a lot of time thinking about what I learned that day, (and still practice.) That music pushed me – physically and mentally – to a place I had no idea I was able to go.
I cannot explain why.
I only know that the music – that particular music – helped to unite my body, mind, will and emotions. I needed maximum effort to achieve my goal. And that soundtrack is what got me over and through.
I don’t know if anyone has performed a controlled study on the effects of various kinds of external stimuli on the performance of lifters.
But…
…I suspect that “Heavy Metal” is the music of choice in powerlifting gyms around the world.
And I don’t think that is a coincidence.
Lift Heavy.
Play Metal.
(Oh – and eat meat.)
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