Old man strength

I used to watch videos of strongmen and Olympians squat and hurl 100, 200, 300 kg with ridiculous ease, and I’d think they were just built different.

When I was moving homes in 2018, I remember a guy named Ramesh moved a double-door LG fridge — the extra-wide one — with his friend. And then carted several cement pots up the stairs onto our terrace. I did help a little. But there was a certain ease with which their heads would grapple and conquer unwieldy objects.

The idea stayed with me. I remember a friend and I joking about what we called old man strength, or sleeper strong — folks who just casually do something most people would spend a tonne of time priming for.

Now, dealing with the capacity to lift things. There are four aspects to it:

1. Can your brain fire all the right muscles, at the right time, in just the right amount, to get the job done? The cool kids call this a primed and prepped CNS.
2. Can your muscle produce the force needed to do the task? And do you have the joint health to hold the position it demands?
3. Is the task something you’ve done many times before — practised to the point where it feels like second nature?
4. Are you adequately rested? Are you feeling good, or good enough? Or are you carrying a whole bunch of fatigue, aches, pains and sore tendons and muscles from previous bouts?

Point three is the one people skip. Ramesh has it maxed out. Not for deadlifts. For fridges. No handles, unknown centre of mass, a staircase, a friend on the other end he doesn’t need to talk to. He has done that specific problem a thousand times. I have done a knurled bar at a fixed height a thousand times. Both are practice. But a 15 kg dumbbell felt heavy to Ramesh. The contrast was absurd, but logical.

Now the disclaimer. I am not romanticizing the hard work, toil, anguish or effort of labourers who move heavy things for subsistence or to make a living. It’s hard work. They’re often in pain. And they work through it. My privileged ass lifts when it wants to. I respect what they can do, and I do believe they are undercompensated.

But the thing I took from Ramesh wasn’t the fridge. It was the hunger. Wanting the awkward job, instead of sizing it up and calling someone.

So I stay hungry for it. Appliances, bags, bikes, furniture — whatever I can wrap my head around, with minimal assistance. I carted the entire gym over and assembled it solo.

Cutting to the point: this is not something I use with clients. The risk-reward isn’t worth it for them. It’s purely a personal project. I like to lift cold. Just pick a hard lift — any category, really — and lift something really heavy or do something challenging. One-arm push-ups, heavy deadlifts, squats, carries. No fuss, no prep. Just lift.

So this is me on the final day of my working holiday. The last time I’ll see Thor, my favourite deadlift bar, in August. Doing 177 kg for sets of 2–3 reps. Clearly all the time not spent warming up is spent being a drama queen over gym equipment.

---