Marilia’s Powerlifting Blog

It has been a while since I last updated this blog. But it has also been a while since I’ve been feeling way less well than usual. On the 17^th of March I took part on a Powerlifting (three lift) contest in Santa Catarina, a State south of where I live. The weather was mild. It was the first time I took part on a REAL powerlifting contest – before that, it was only Bench Press and one National Deadlift contest, where I passed out at the third lift. 

All this said, I was pretty anxious. I had never squatted before in a contest and even at the gym, squatting is very recent in my life. Only a few months old. When we did the load test one and a half month earlier, I hated the suit, hated the belt, hated not being able to breath and did an awful job. 

I had two challenges at this last contest: overcome my fear of squatting and my panic of deadlifting with the suit and belt. I was so uptight with both that I asked my coach to do ridiculously low calls for me. Low is LOW: warm-up low. Like start the deadlift with 100kg. But all went right and I ended with a 132,5kg squat and 127,5kg deadlift. Way bellow an ideal expected 140kg, like I went in December for the Brazilian Deadlift Contest having never used the suit in one, faiting on the spot. 

Oh: the bench press was ridiculous. Got very frustrated with not lifting my 75kg. 

I got home quite happy with my results, quite unhappy with coming back home. We went as a team, in a Van, making jokes and having fun. Came back silent, tired. My friend calls this the “Cinderella effect”. Happens with all powerlifters. The meets are where we get to do what we enjoy, meet our friends and somehow become the best of what we are. That is where the best part of our identities is located, or maybe that is where we rescue the child within. The ability to be pure and simply happy. No matter the marks. 

But then there is the way back into “reality”, jobs, families (not always that happy) and other conflictive environments. Our stallions are back to mice. I had felt this “reality shock” in other contests, but this was the worst. I got home to find a myriad of small and big professional and domestic problems, plus the weather was weird. We are supposedly already in Autumn and it has never been this hot in São Paulo. The pollution is reaching record levels. Soon I was feeling so bad that depression actually took over. To make things worse, the following Sunday was my birthday, which I hate. 

The birthday itself was good, met someone – pretty special guy, no idea where this is going. 

But the weather kept getting hotter and hotter. All above nineties. Gilson (coach, friend, social program partner) told us to rest Tuesday in order to do a “heavy” Bench Press workout Wednesday. I tried to do that (hard to rest with a new boyfriend, but I did my best), but when I got up Wednesday, I noticed my body was not that good. It was a really, really hot day. I had a meeting early in the morning and then headed to the gym. You will probably find the following information incomprehensible, but: 1. there is no air-conditioning in my car (cheap car, never invested in this, thought I didn’t need air); 2. there is no air-conditioning in my house (why? Lot’s of windows, big yard, never that hot); 3. there is no air conditioning at the gym (air conditioning in a low income gym inside a slum???? No way…). I spent about 90 minutes or so on the worst traffic ever (this is São Paulo, the third biggest and most jammed city in the world). When I got to the gym I knew there was something wrong. And there was: my bench press didn’t go up above 70kg. 

Very frustrated, I just left. 

The following day, it was even hotter. Again I spent a long time on the traffic and when I got to the gym I felt like puking, my head was bursting and I was dizzy. Gilson wasn’t there and we didn’t know how to work the blood pressure thing. The reading was strange, something like 160 by 90, and I have very low blood pressure. I was scared and went home, planning to go to the Emergency Room if I felt worse. 

Finally, yesterday, I was feeling quite ok in the morning, caught up with a load of work and went to the gym. Again… on the way there, I started feeling bad. I didn’t even take my things off the car: got out, told everyone I was going to the hospital and left. 

At the hospital, the actual reading of my blood pressure was “normal” (they said “pretty low”!): like 110/70. This is genetic: my family has low blood pressure. My “normal” is 100/60. But then it kept falling, falling… Until at some point, when they were starting to draw my blood, it was 90/40 . Ok… I’ve had 90/60 , 90/50 and 80/50 (and believe me: it feels WEIRD). But 40!!! What is a diastolic 40 doing here! 

The doctors tested my blood for many things, including kidney function, since this level of low blood pressure is risky. They also thought I might be developing a viral infection that is getting epidemic in Brazil now: dengue (a tropical disease). 

The tests showed nothing. Either I have an infection and, because athletes have much more efficient reactions, it hasn’t fully developed to the point of affecting blood test results, or it is DEHYDRATION. 

They asked me to go back to the ER today. They want to repeat all the tests to make sure it is not an infection and it is not going the wrong way. 

But the thing is: for a combination of reasons, I haven’t had as much water as I should, I haven’t retained as much water as I should and I haven’t eaten as I should. I discovered that too low a blood sugar contributes to low blood pressure. I am naturally hypoglycemic (my fasting reading is around 75), but my postprandial yesterday was 82 – absurd. The result is something I had never seen: I couldn’t think right and couldn’t workout. 

I’ve been drinking water and eating more carbs since yesterday. I am going to the gym today again just to check what my reactions will be to effort. Stupid? Maybe, but I want to learn everything about this. 

And maybe it is time to get a new car with air-conditioning… 

(I am still getting used with this editor, but these pictures are: Erica and me, then Erica lifting 100kg and then me lifting 72,5kg)

I am sore and voiceless but HAPPY – infinitely happy. I met my friends from other towns, people I miss the whole time. My brothers in arms, my buddies, folks I can talk nonsense with and have fun with.  As soon as we got there we met Erica and Remy, who came from Campinas. Erica is today our highest Bench Press Wilks in Brazil: she is at the 60kg category and had never used a heavier bench shirt. In fact, she had no shirt at all and was going to take part on the contest unequipped. I asked if she wanted to share mine and we tried it on her. It is a bit large for me and was perfect on her. It would be an adventure: the two of us were the heavier lifting women, so the guys would have to be real fast in stripping me off the shirt and putting it on her. 

Before we began, she tried it on and said it felt weird: 90kg was so light that it almost didn’t go down. So I said I wanted her 100kg as my birthday present. It was lot’s of fun! On her second lift, we were so confused that she had no time to put the wrist wraps, but 90kg was so light that she didn’t even feel it. Her 100kg went up like a rocket. She will be on her 120’s easily in three or four months, as soon as she gets used to the shirt. 

Mark my words: you will all be hearing a lot from this girl in the next four years. She is only 26 yrs old, we all know this is pretty young for strength sports and something in me says she is our greatest podium promise for the World Championship. About me? Well, no improvement from last year: 72,5kg. Won the open and master 1, master best athlete (Wilks) but way bellow the expected. I am not disappointed: I still had to get familiar with the new “press” command and actually Erica’s accomplishment was much more significant for me than my own performance. 

The Championship was really nice, all the special athletes were there (the para-olympics) and I will write more about that later. Today I wanted to praise our Rising Southern Star – ERICA THE LIFTER!! 

PS – Watch out for her deadlift and squat… But this is a surprise – I will leave it for the next Championship.

PS 2 - 

Sunday I will take part on my first Bench Press championship of the year. When I weigh at home, my scale reads 56,6kg; when I weigh at the gym, the scale reads 55,6kg. Big difference. Gilson tells me to trust the gym scale and not to worry about my weight. I always swear I will control my weight way before the competition, so as not to go wild days before. Everytime, though, something happens: this time, it was an insistent cough and a bad cold that prevented me from dieting (one shouldn’t do caloric deficit when fighting infection, right?) and wasting myself in cardio training. 

Next week there will be another one, even more important and this time full Powerlifting (the three lifts). 

I hate this constant fight with the scale and all the anxiety it brings… 

I SWEAR next time I WILL diet way before, do a lot of cardio and enter the pre-contest week a good kilogram bellow my category limit (56kg). 

Here in Brazil one of the stressful events prior to competitions, for the organizers, is choosing the trophies and medals. Having come into the sport quite recently (like six months ago), I still can’t figure why this should be so significant, since what really matters is the actual mark and if it can or cannot be ascertained (officially, posted on internet sites, etc.). This is, however, the point of view of a web-writter and might not be shared by the majority of practitioners, who, in my country, come from low income, poor information-access social strata. For them, the physical reward tokens (medals and trophies) are the actual proof that they have accomplished something important.
I believe this has been pushed too far, though. I mean, the trophies get bigger and weirder every time. It is a terrible nuisance to figure out, for example, how to bring two absurd 3lb plaster (yes! Plaster! The most BREAKABLE thing ever invented!) trophies from Montevideo to São Paulo along with equipment, shoes, etc., etc. Half the weird golden plaster statue’s arm fell off when I unwrapped if from my bench shirt at home.
Therefore, I propose we consider some insignificant, yet practical changes in competition rewarding: let us make “useful trophies” and offer very small, light medals – say, the size of a large coin.
We could make can-opener-trophies (I just fought for ten minutes to open a tuna fish can because the opener broke), jar trophies (good for making herbal tea and getting rid of toxins), cup trophies (for coffee!) or shaker trophies (for your daily post-workout whey shake).
The medals would be even more practical, since the athlete could carry his/her whole curriculum in his/her pocket or bag, if it is meaningful to him/her. Instead of bulky albums or very heavy bags full of saucer-sized medals, your whole athletic life would fit into a simple coin bag!
Woudn’t it be wonderful, practical and MUCH CHEAPER??
Ok, it was just an idea.

Our stretching room fish passed away … I miss him.
Zanzan found a job with weekend hours that will not allow her to compete … we lost our 90+ record breaker and I lost my roommate. I still don’t want to believe this.
The second squat rack is gone … sold.
We got two new lifters … BP guys who got team-less and joined us.
The 48kg female pre-junior promise is also gone … jealous husband, wife beater.
Patr­cia, who had a baby, is back … strong girl, I bet she will make us proud.
Gilson has a new back injury.
I am losing my fear of the squat.
Can’t keep people around forever, can’t prevent needs, accidents and pain. But there are always unexpected additions.
Between losses and gains, what remains is just change.

I have a bad cold since Sunday, which kept me away from the Gym until Wednesday. Then, pissed off by work related issues and a few personal ones, I decided that even not feeling “that good I’d go. More than just go: I’d catch up, doing Tuesday’s workout schedule, which I had failed, plus Wednesday, with Renatinho (my workout buddy), so that I wouldn’t let him down. Filled my bag with cold meds and supplements and went. That resulted in something like a four hour workout, with no rest. Very smart for a powerlifter.
Yesterday should be heavy Bench Press day. Good! I started well, feeling “just a little bit weak. Sailed through the light loads and finally got to the 85-90% load, with support shirt. Did one set of 3 reps with 70kg … great; did another set of 2 reps with 70kg and the third: oops: didn’t go up: Why? Let’s try again. Five minutes later I did and the bar softly rested on my chest. Vandinho, who was spotting, laughed and pulled it back to the rack. The muscle was unable to contract even to say “hi to the bar. Dead muscle.
Still not completely convinced, I decided to do “a few lifts without the shirt, with 60kg, just to: well, to wake up the muscles. Again, the bar rested softly on my chest and my muscles just twitched and said “no, we’re on strike.
Suddenly, I felt SO SLEEPY that I quickly found my way to the couch (we have a couch on the gym) and slept until Renatinho, unassisted by his useless buddy, finished his workout and kept me awake while driving him to his bus stop.
Was this stupid or not?