One girl, two barbells

A few weeks ago, I decided I’d do my first powerlifting competition — sort of.

Given my recent surgery and ongoing limitations, I opted to compete in just one of the three lifts: the squat. (For those unfamiliar, powerlifting comprises the squat, bench press, and deadlift.)

The idea actually started as a joke. I was chatting with another athlete I’ve gotten to know during my coaching accreditation. She’s an accomplished lifter but, due to an injury, was only doing what’s called “push + pull” — bench and deadlift. I joked that maybe I could step in and do her squats. That sparked the question: could I just do squats in a comp?

Turns out, yes. The answer from the powers that be was a casual, “sure, why not?” So, three weeks out from competition day, I began preparing for my first ever powerlifting meet — and my first official foray into an entirely new sport.

So, what’s so different about it?

Honestly? Everything.

The only thing powerlifting and my past training have in common is this: you’re trying to lift the heaviest thing you can… as long as it counts as a “good lift.”

It makes sense that most people wouldn’t know that — I certainly didn’t. I first dipped my toes into the world of powerlifting back in February, when a friend and gym member mentioned wanting to compete. With no background in the sport, I figured I’d need to learn a thing or two if I wanted to support her properly as a coach.

Plus, I was heading into surgery, and the idea of pursuing a goal not tied to my own training felt oddly refreshing. (Yes, the irony is not lost on me.)

Comp day mindset

My only real goal going into the competition? To have fun.

Easier said than done.

I haven’t enjoyed competing in a long time. The initial adrenaline rush wore off years ago, and what was left was usually anxiety, performance pressure, and dread that tended to eclipse the actual experience.

There are a few reasons for that (which I won’t get into here), but this time I made a decision: I’d show up curious, excited to try something new, and committed to enjoying the day no matter what.

So instead of obsessing over my opening lift, I spent the week before the comp hunting for the perfect scrunchie.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t find it. (If anyone sees a big silver one, let me know.) But somehow that meaningless little quest was enough to keep me relaxed.

The coach makes the comp

My coach, Sandy, is the perfect blend of warmth, no-nonsense Mum energy, and unapologetic hype girl.

She showed up for all of us on the day with enthusiasm, calm, and complete control of the chaos. I trusted her entirely to manage my warmups and attempts — and despite the fact that I’d given her just three weeks to get me ready, she never made me feel unprepared.

She made me feel like I belonged. Like I was meant to be there. Like this wasn't just a try-hard side quest but a legitimate debut into something real.

The lifts

Technically? Rough.
Emotionally? Outstanding.

While I didn’t hit my dream goal of squatting over 100kg, I approached each lift with intent, focus, and confidence — and I had an actual blast.

Predictably, I asked Sandy immediately after if we could keep working together and start building toward a full powerlifting comp…and she said yes.

So… what now?

Honestly, I have no idea — and I don’t really care.

I love lifting weights. If there’s a way to keep doing that with less pain, I’m in.

The current (totally unofficial) plan? Keep rebuilding my Olympic lifts while developing my technique in powerlifting.

The biggest takeaway from this experience is that I found my joy for competing again. I felt worthy, I felt included, and above all I felt like I was capable of more.

So, welcome to my new chapter of one girl, two barbells.