The atmosphere was that of a giant block party just waiting for the kegs to be rolled out. On one end, there was a large stage, complete with speakers, a sound system, & a big screen tv that hung overhead. At the opposite end sat several sets of aluminum bleachers with various strongman implements, & the athlete warm-up area just steps away. And between the two, on the cobblestone street, there were four logs & four deadlift bars set on rubber mats, loaded, and ready to go...all accompanied by a judge, loaders, & a timer. The entire area was marked of by metal barricades, lined with chairs & coolers of fans & competitors alike, & shaded by a second story canopy.
I stood among a group of women clad in white competition tshirts just inside the barriers on 4th Street Live, patiently, but nervously waiting for our name to be called for the first event, the log clean & press. As there appeared to be a bit of confusion on the order of the athletes, I approached the judge to verify who was up next. From my left, I hear the words “athletes ready”, from my judge I hear, “oh, you ARE up next, are you ready?”. After standing around for longer than my old body allows, I replied “yes” & grabbed the log as I heard the word “go”. Some athletes may be put off by being rushed into an event, but if you think about it, all of the nerves from anticipating the start are non-existent. Not to mention, my coach graciously prepares me for such situations, pretty much every time we are in the gym, by asking & saying “go” in the same breath. I often wondered why she even asks...now I know. I managed five solid reps before I heard the fifteen second countdown. Since the placement of the log was slightly downhill & I was taking an extra step forward on the clean, I knew I needed all of the final ten seconds to complete one last rep. I took a big deep breath, grabbed the log, cleaned it, stepped forward, then back, half jerk/strict pressed it overhead, & heard the down command as time was called. I verified with my judge that number six did count & weaved my way through the crowd to where my gear was stashed & my long distance training partner, Joan, & her husband awaited...still trying to catch my breath. Event #1 for United States Strongman Nationals was in the books.
For the second event, the deadlift bars were stripped of the men’s weight & reloaded with the women’s weight, each plate placed outside of a set of steel wheels that placed the bar around 12” off the ground. For deadlift enthusiasts, who religiously do RDL’s, this placement was money, but for those of us who have close to zero technique & use more back than leg, this height is halfway between a slow, typically not pretty to watch, slightly rounded back pick from the floor & the ever-popular, load up as much weight as humanly possible,16" rack pull. Although deadlift suits were allowed in this competition, and worn by quite a few competitors, I opted to leave that miserable piece of equipment at home. While others struggled to get them on in the Kentucky heat & humidity, I finished off my breakfast & conserved valuable energy. Along with a handful of other competitors, I was sent down to the fourth bar & waited my turn with my trusty leather belt & straps. As I approached the bar to strap in, the judge asked my name & as she verified that I was, indeed, the next competitor, I hear “athletes ready”. The brief conversation with my judge came to an abrupt end as I threw my straps around the bar, just in time to hear the word “go”. I rushed through my set up, drove straight through my quads to lockout, and felt as if my upper back was ripped apart from all angles. This was of no fault to the judge or the quick start, as I mentioned previously, my deadlift is no technical masterpiece. By the next rep, I began to settle into a rhythm, knocking out nine more reps. With ten seconds remaining, fueled by the encouragement of our esteemed USS President, Willie Wessels, I made one final attempt for rep #11, but with a trembling posterior chain, I failed to even pull the slack out of the bar & I released my straps as time was called. As I unbuckled my belt & stepped off the rubber mat, I was pleased with my ten reps, but wondered if it would hold up against my class chalked full of strong deadlifters.
Following the first two events, as I downed a protein shake & Gatorade, volunteers furiously ran around 4th Street Live switching out logs & deadlift bars for conan's wheels & fingers, each set up being meticulously tested to ensure the safety of the athletes. Now, before I go any further, let me tackle the topic of the scoring. Yes, just like everyone else at the venue, I was glued to my iPhone like a little kid playing Candy Crush, waiting for the live scoring to be updated. Some scores did go up, but none in my weight class, so much like everyone else, I set my phone down & began to prepare for the next two events. Although I did want to know where I stood going into event 3 & 4, as I look back, it was probably better that I didn't. Not having the scores or standings took away any “gaming” that might normally occur during a competition. Instead, every athlete had to go 100% on every single event...kind of a novel idea if you ask me. By the time event 3 was over, the link to the live scoring had been removed. However, if you had Google sheets, the program being used for the scoring, downloaded onto your phone, & were signed in with your username & password, the shared file would automatically be saved. Thus, if any updates did occur, I was able to view them throughout the competition. For the record, most scores were not put in until the competition was over. Although it may have appeared as though USS officials & judges were simply unprepared to use the scoring program, the truth was, as I was later told, the person(s) that were to score the competition had, in fact, been a no-show...leaving the staff to fend for itself. This unforeseen situation caused John Albrecht, USS Vice President, to step out as a competitor & into the role of official scorekeeper, a behind the scenes, very unappreciated job. Without a doubt, there were a few hiccups along the way, but when the dust settled, John did an amazing job & put in countless hours to get every last number correct for 300 plus athletes...and, in my opinion, is deserving of much more than the seamlessly unending requests for the final scores to be posted. Scoring for a small event is no easy task, and if you have never experienced it, I challenge you to step up to the plate at your next local comp & spend the day staring at a computer screen, typing in numbers in hopes that the formulas used to create the score sheet actually work.
Event #3 for the women took us all back down to the end of the street next to the stage where four Fingal's Fingers laid resting on tires. This was the single event that I had zero experience with, and while training for the comp, purchased a fence post with almost identical dimensions in order to get a feel for the movement. I don't think anyone likes to tackle an unknown event in any competition, let alone at Nationals, so I made do with what I could find. Each finger was loaded with a set of chains to add weight, something you can not do with a fence post. The weight alone forced me, & many other women, to use a continental clean, pulling it just above my belt, then to my shoulders, and finally push pressing it to a locked out position. My primary mistake with my first two flips was trying to clean & press the monstrous pole in one motion. By rushing the shoulder to overhead movement, I caught myself leaning back versus pushing into the finger & wasting valuable time attempting to gain proper position. By the third flip, I had finally learned from my mistakes, but time dwindled down before I could attempt number four. My goal was to finish all five flips, but with zero experience on this particular event, I walked away knowing I did my best. One thing I will add is some valuable advise I got from my coach: once in position, let foot speed, not hand speed, be the determining factor of your flip...move your feet faster like you are running at the finger & your hands will follow. A simple idea that makes a big difference.
As my energy was starting to die out in the Kentucky heat, I put in a request for Smashburger prior to the fourth event. My long distance training partner’s husband, Will, made the run down the street for me, and basically saved my life before the Conan’s Wheel attempted to take everything I had left & bury me underneath 4th Street. The Conan’s Wheel and I have a long history, as it made an appearance in my first ever competition in 2013. It is not an event you see very often because not many people have the implement hanging out in their backyard. But lucky for me, I train with the 2x World’s Strongest Woman who happens to have one just off of the ½ mile long driveway leading to her house. My experience was never in question for this event, but did I have the mindset that was needed to push through the pain & hold on long enough? On this day, the answer was yes. My coach told me before my final training session that I was going to have to complete four laps, and that was the number stuck in my head from the moment I approached the wheel. I watched most of my competitors complete the event & knew 3 ¼ laps would be enough to take first & 3 ½ would solidify the event win. As I approached the 3 ½ lap mark, I was quickly reminded by a little voice in my head that four was the correct number. It was simple motivation by fear of having to tell my coach I came up short of our goal that pushed me to continue moving, & with my hamstrings beginning to quiver, took an additional three to four steps beyond the four lap mark, before dropping the bar. The additional steps were simply my way of putting the exclamation mark on the challenge that was presented to me.
Riding the high from event #4, loading four stones to complete the competition seemed like a pretty easy task. The heavyweight masters women were the final female competitors at the end of a line of well over 100 women, quite literally a longer line than I have stood in for any theme park amusement ride, or festival beer vendor. As the line inched along, the highly entertaining masters women remained seated on various implements & stacks of mats & plates, as the younger competitors anxiously remained in a single file line. We laughed & joked our way through the next hour or so, until low & behold the line had dwindled down & we were the only female competitors remaining. I was one of the last few women to approach the platform & found there to be more tacky than any one person would need in a lifetime, and it was everywhere. Strands of tacky were flying through the air, the platforms & spotters were covered, and even the mats on the ground had their fair share. The first two stones went up without a hitch. Due to its odd shape, I took a bit more time lapping the third stone to be sure I had an even grip & didn't drop it. Loading it was a fairly smooth process, and I turned to go the final twenty-ish feet for the 230lb stone. I took way too long to get myself set for something, in my mind, posed a much bigger challenge. Yes, it was heavy, but adrenaline alone lifted this stone to the platform & before I knew it, the 2016 USS Nationals had come to a close.
Ashley K. Smith
2nd place Heavyweight Masters
Team Jill Mills & USS Texas State Rep
*Although I may have been the one competeing on this day, my second place finish was due to the unending support & guidance of my coach & great friend, Jill Mills. She worked many overtime hours to keep me on the right track both physically & mentally...& I am proud to say that WE placed second at the 2016 USS Nationals.
