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As athletes, we often hear that practice makes perfect. But what happens when your practice leads you to a plateau? What if, despite your hard work, you find out you’ve been doing something wrong all along? This is the story of how I learned a tough lesson about my limits, my ego, and the value of honest feedback.
About 15 years ago, I was competing in the East Coast Nationals in Springfield, Ohio. At this point in my career, I was no stranger to high-level competition. I had been competing for years, consistently making the top 100 list and often placing in the top 25 of the strongest lifters in the country. My training had gone well, and I had big goals for this meet. I was feeling confident—maybe even a little too confident.
Powerlifting meets always start with the squat, and I had my usual opener lined up—something I could usually squat with no problem. Following the advice of an old friend, Doug, a staunch competitor from the ’70s, I always opened with a weight I could handle easily, even on my worst day. This time, I felt sure I would breeze through it.
But after confidently taking the platform and executing my first lift, I was shocked to see two red lights on the judges' board. I had failed the lift. The judges said I didn’t hit depth on my squat. Frustrated but undeterred, I decided to go up in weight for my second attempt, convinced the judges were wrong. Yet, despite what I thought was an insanely deep squat, I was met with the same result: another failed lift.
At this point, concern started to spread among my fellow lifters. Missing two lifts in a row was not something they expected from me. They encouraged me to stay focused and reminded me that I could still pull it off. The energy and support from the crowd were palpable as I approached the platform for my third attempt. This was my last chance to stay in the competition.
I took the weight, went deep, and finally got two white lights, enough to pass. Relieved but shaken, I went to the scores table, only to be met by Rich Peters, a man who had seen thousands of lifters in his time. He looked me squarely in the eye and said, "Your squat sucks!" I was floored. How could he say that after I had just lifted 530 pounds to depth and barely stayed in the meet?
Then he added something that cut even deeper: "Just because you're strong doesn't mean you're good."
I left that meet angry and frustrated, not just because of the failed lifts, but because someone I respected had called me out. But as the days passed, I started to reflect on what Rich had said. I reviewed the videos of my lifts, and the truth was staring me in the face: my squat did suck. I had let my strength overshadow the technical flaws in my form.
It wasn’t easy to admit, but I realized that Rich had given me the unvarnished truth. My technique needed serious work, and I had a choice to make: either let my pride get in the way, or embrace the criticism and use it to become better.
So, I swallowed my pride and sought out help. I relearned how to squat from the ground up. It was a humbling experience to go back to basics after years of competing at a high level, but it was exactly what I needed. Over time, my form improved, and with it, my performance. That painful experience didn’t just make me a better lifter; it made me a better person and coach. I learned that criticism, even when it stings, is a powerful tool for growth if you’re willing to listen.
In the world of fitness—and in life—we’re often tempted to ignore criticism or dismiss it as negativity. But the truth is, honest feedback is one of the most valuable tools we have. It’s easy to get comfortable in our strengths and ignore our weaknesses, but it’s the weaknesses that can hold us back the most.
If you want to improve, you need to be open to the idea that you’re not perfect and that there’s always room for growth. Sometimes, it takes a tough conversation or a failed lift to bring those flaws to light, but those moments are opportunities, not setbacks.
The lesson I learned that day in Springfield, Ohio, is one that has stayed with me ever since: Strength alone isn’t enough. You need to be willing to face your weaknesses, accept criticism, and use it to fuel your improvement. Whether you’re an athlete, a coach, or anyone striving to be better, remember that the harshest feedback can lead to the greatest growth.
So the next time someone tells you something you don’t want to hear, take a moment to really listen. It might just be the key to unlocking your next level of success.