Moorestown

I consider it my first escapade into the realm of the greats.  Moorestown New Jersey, home of national champions and promising young stars of the weightlifting world.  We traveled there, my coach, his family, and I, to reintroduce our small group of Mainers to the rest of East Coast gold, the team we officially compete for.  Inside me my nerves rattled slightly, strung tight like the strings of a violin.  I knew the skill of those who lifted there, pure and practiced, and to me, a skinny tall tree of a weightlifter, I felt I had reason to be surely intimidated.  I wasn't sure of what I'd see, and whether I would be accepted, or shunned as amateur and out of place.

The club itself was small, nestled in a shaded brick building below street level.  But oh god, how beautiful the place was.  Ten platforms, racks and racks of Werksan plates, and squat stands on every polished plank of wood.  The bars shone brightly, and the air was refreshing and cool.  It was a weightlifting haven amongst the crazy streets and road rage.

The talent in that room was fantastic.  Darren Barnes, the national champion 56kg lifter, repping out snatches heavier than any I'd made.  Lance Frye, former 77kg champion, power cleaning 150kg off blocks, a relatively light weight for him, as he'd snatched the same amount in his hay day.  Newcomers as well, a short Asian kid only a few years older than me, perfectly squat jerking 110kg, descending deep into the realm of normally unattainable flexibility.  They've all been to nationals, some once, some multiple times.  I feel utterly outclassed, as was expected.

However I lifted all the same, snatching up to an easy 80, clean and jerking to an effortless 95, and squatting to a feather light 120.  The reps were what killed me, as was the norm.  Volume makes champions, not heavy singles.  The lifts were solid, however my muscles were tight, initially unwilling to bend into the crazy shapes they must conform to in order to complete the lifts.  Nerves perhaps? Entwined in my ever thickening fibers?  Hah.  Despite the impossibility of that situation, it seemed like that's exactly what was happening.

Here's a training video of myself

We lifted two days in that paradise of weightlifting.  As was usual, Gwen showed her great superiority, proving she deserved her spot in the top 10 women of the United States.  After the second day, we took Darren Barnes, the remarkable 56, out to lunch at a Tuscan grill, where we laughed and chatted over chicken and pasta.  He is a boy of great knowledge for his age, and great wisdom as well.  He comes from almost nothing, and has clearly made great strides for himself.  His achievements are truly humbling, and despite his 5'3" stature, I feel like I've never looked up further to someone's being.  His smile is always stretched across his dark cheeks, and I'm quite happy to now call myself his friend.

Darren I wish you the best, and hope to meet you again soon.  You better be coming up to Maine to train with us sometime soon.  You'll love the lobster!


To wrap things up, this trip was an experience like no other.  My first handshakes with true champions, my first sightings of pure determination and unbelievable skill.  And strength, how could I forget the strength.  Without a doubt, Moorestown is hallowed ground in weightlifting, and represents the future of the sport for this country.  With men like Darren, and hopefully myself someday, we will be back on top.