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Powerlifting Coaching Craig Spicer · July 2026

What Competition Day Actually Teaches You About Yourself

Competition day is one of the most accurate mirrors you will ever stand in front of. After 25 years on the platform — as athlete and coach — here’s what I know to be true.

You’ve done the training. You’ve followed the programme. You’ve managed the taper and you think you’ve handled the nerves.

And then you walk out to the platform.

Everything you thought you knew about yourself gets tested in the next few seconds. Not just your technique. Not just your strength. You — the version of you that exists when the situation is real and there’s nothing left to hide behind.

I’ve been in that moment more times than I can count. As an athlete from novice through to international level. As a coach watching my athletes walk out there. And I’ll tell you what I know to be true: competition day is one of the most accurate mirrors you will ever stand in front of.

It Starts Before You Get There

The way most people approach competition prep reveals exactly how they approach hard things in general.

Some athletes prepare early, thoroughly, and without drama. Their training is periodised. Their attempts are selected well in advance. They’ve rehearsed the warm-up room in their head a hundred times. They know the ruleset. They’ve eaten, slept, and made decisions throughout the week that serve the day.

Others arrive hoping for the best. They’ve trained hard, but they haven’t thought carefully about the day itself. The warm-up room finds them reactive rather than ready.

How you prepare for the things that matter is a reliable indicator of how you approach most things. I now watch competition prep as closely as I watch the competition itself.

The Warm-Up Room

If you’ve never been in a competition warm-up room, picture this. It’s small, usually. It’s loud. It’s crowded. There are athletes at very different stages of their warm-up, coaches talking, timekeepers calling out flight updates, and a general atmosphere of controlled chaos.

Your brain is doing a lot. Your body is either responding well or it isn’t. The weight might feel heavier than it did in training. Or lighter. You’re trying to time your last warm-up attempt to land roughly three minutes before you’re called. And you’re doing all of this while trying to stay calm, stay focused, and not watch anyone else’s bar.

Some athletes focus completely. They block the noise. They breathe. They move with purpose. Their session starts as soon as they walk through the door.

Others get caught up in everything around them. They compare. They second-guess. They let someone else’s warm-up become the story of their own session.

The warm-up room is where more competitions are won and lost than the platform ever claims. Most people only understand that in hindsight.

When It Doesn’t Go to Plan

Red lights happen. Missed lifts happen. Attempts that felt automatic in training suddenly feel different under competition conditions.

How you respond to that in the moment is one of the clearest windows into who you actually are under pressure.

I’ve watched athletes take a red light and fall apart. The next attempt is already compromised before they’ve walked back to wait. The head goes down. Decision-making deteriorates. They respond emotionally instead of logically.

I’ve watched other athletes take exactly the same situation and reset inside thirty seconds. Same warm-up. Same breath. Same composure. The lift on the platform changes — but the internal state doesn’t.

What separates them isn’t talent. It’s the relationship they have with themselves when things go sideways.

Every missed lift you handle well in training is a deposit. Every one you dramatise is a withdrawal. By the time you reach a competition, you’re spending what you’ve saved.

What I Learned About Myself

I won’t pretend I always handled the pressure well. I didn’t. There were competitions early in my career where the occasion got to me more than the weight did.

What I learned over time — and it does take time — is that competition is the most honest conversation I ever have with myself. Not because it reveals failure. Because it reveals exactly where I am. No pretending. No comfort zone. No version of the session that lets me off the hook.

That knowledge is genuinely valuable. Not just in sport.

I’ve carried what competition teaches into every difficult situation since — building sports programmes in the army, building Crazy Strength from nothing, navigating a cancer diagnosis at twenty-six, the years of sustained effort that building something real demands. The capacity to stay present when the pressure is real, to make the next decision rather than getting stuck on the last one, to keep showing up when showing up is the hardest option — that capacity is forged in the same place.

The platform teaches it better than almost anything else I know.

What This Means for the Athletes I Coach

As a coach, competition day is the culmination of a relationship. Whatever I’ve put into the athlete is in there. I can’t give them anything new when they’re chalking their hands. What I can do is remind them of what they already know.

That’s what good coaching produces. Athletes who don’t need me to make the call, because we’ve had that conversation a hundred times before.

If your athletes are falling apart on the platform in ways they don’t in training, look at what you’re doing in training. Are you building resilience or just fitness? Are you creating opportunities for them to reset and continue, or are you managing the conditions so everything stays comfortable?

The platform reveals the gaps. Your job as a coach is to close them before your athletes get there.

We have the British Powerlifting Regional on the 7th of November. The work that matters is happening right now, in every training session between here and there. That’s when the competition is actually won.

The Honest Question

Competition day will show you where you are. It won’t lie to you. It won’t make allowances or soften the feedback.

If that’s uncomfortable, it’s because it’s meant to be. The most useful mirror isn’t always a comfortable one.

What I’d ask any athlete — and any person who’s never lifted a weight in their life — is this: where in your life are you avoiding the mirror? Where are you keeping the pressure low enough that you never have to find out who you actually are when things get hard?

That’s the question competition forces. And it’s the most valuable question you can ask.


Craig Spicer is the founder and head coach at Crazy Strength, Amesbury. He has competed from novice to international level in weightlifting and powerlifting and has coached athletes at every stage of the journey. Follow @craig.spicer on Instagram.

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Leadership Craig Spicer · April 2026

Accountability Doesn’t Care How You Intended It

Words have weight. Actions have consequences. People are expected to stand behind both. The real kind of accountability — not the corporate buzzword version.

There’s a particular kind of frustration that doesn’t announce itself loudly. It builds quietly, over months, through small moments that individually seem manageable but collectively start to wear at something fundamental in you. The moment you name it, everything becomes clearer.

This post is about accountability. Not the corporate buzzword version. The real kind — where words have weight, actions have consequences, and people are expected to stand behind both. Follow along at @craig.spicer where I share the unfiltered reality of leadership and what it actually takes to build something that lasts.


The Kind Person’s Dilemma

I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to look after people. It’s not a strategy — it’s just who I am. I’m laid-back by nature, I genuinely care about the people around me, and I will go out of my way to support, encourage, and invest in others. Most people who know me well would tell you the same.

What I’ve learned — particularly over the last 12 months — is that some people read that as permission.

Not consciously, perhaps. But somewhere along the line, kindness gets mistaken for compliance. A relaxed manner gets read as indifference to standards. And when you eventually respond with the same directness that’s been directed at you, or when you hold someone to something they said or did, the reaction is one of genuine surprise.

As if the rules only applied one way.


A Difficult 12 Months — And What It Revealed

I’ll be honest with you. The last six to twelve months have been some of the most demanding I can remember. Business pressures, a significant move, rising costs, and the kind of accumulated stress that doesn’t always show on the surface but absolutely affects how you show up day to day.

During that period, I wasn’t always as robust as I needed to be. I let some things go that I shouldn’t have. I absorbed more than I should have absorbed. And in doing so, I inadvertently gave some people the impression that the standards I hold — for myself and for those around me — had softened.

They hadn’t. I had just been running low.

The last two to three weeks have felt different. I’m back. Recalibrated, clear-headed, and reminded of exactly what I stand for. And with that clarity has come a sharper view of a pattern I’d been too stretched to address properly — people who are very comfortable saying and doing whatever they like, right up until the moment they’re held to it.


The Accountability Gap

Accountability isn’t a punishment. It’s a basic feature of any functioning relationship, team, or organisation. You say something — you own it. You do something — you own that too. The consequences of your words and actions belong to you, whether you intended them or not.

What I’ve encountered repeatedly in recent months is a significant gap between people’s willingness to act freely and their willingness to accept the consequences of that freedom.

People say things carelessly, then reframe them when challenged. People make commitments, then act as though the commitment was never made. And when you respond — calmly, clearly, and with the expectation that they stand behind what they said — the reaction is often one of offence.

It’s a revealing moment. Because the people who struggle most with being held accountable are almost always the people who’ve never genuinely had to be.


Opinions Are a Two-Way Street

This is the part I want to be particularly clear about.

I have no issue with people sharing their views. Healthy disagreement is one of the most valuable things that can happen in any conversation. I actively encourage it. What I do take issue with is the specific dynamic where someone feels entirely comfortable telling me what I should be doing, where I’m going wrong, or what the right answer is — and then becomes visibly uncomfortable the moment I disagree, push back, or offer a perspective rooted in my own experience.

Because that experience is not insignificant.

Twenty-five years working across national governing bodies, the British military, building sports programmes from the ground up, developing coaches, running a business — that body of work earns a perspective worth hearing. It doesn’t make me infallible. It doesn’t mean I’m always right. But it does mean that when I offer a view, it comes from somewhere real.

Experience doesn’t make you arrogant. It makes you qualified. And there’s a meaningful difference between the two.

If you’re going to offer an opinion, be prepared to receive one. If you’re going to challenge someone’s thinking, be prepared to have your own challenged in return. That’s not aggression — that’s an honest conversation between adults.


What Holding People Accountable Actually Looks Like

There’s a version of accountability that people fear — aggressive, personal, point-scoring. That’s not what I’m talking about.

Holding someone accountable, done properly, is measured. It’s clear. It’s direct without being cruel. It says: “You said this. You did this. I’m not going to pretend otherwise, and I’m not going to lower my standards to make you more comfortable.”

The key distinction

Reacting is emotional and immediate. Responding is considered and intentional. When I hold someone to their words or actions, it comes from a place of principle, not frustration.

Being robust is not the same as being unkind. You can be warm and firm at the same time. In fact, the most respectful thing you can do for another person is take them seriously enough to expect them to own what they’ve said and done. Letting people off the hook isn’t kindness — it’s just easier.


Getting Back in the Game

The last few weeks have reminded me of something important. Standards don’t disappear during hard periods — they just become harder to maintain. And when you come back to yourself after a difficult stretch, you see very clearly what was allowed to slip and what needs to be recalibrated.

This post isn’t a rant. It’s a reminder — for me as much as anyone reading it.

That’s not a personality flaw. That’s leadership.

For more on how I think about leadership, accountability, and building something real, head over to the Crazy Strength blog — including my recent post on knowing when to lead and when to follow.


Your Move

Think about one conversation or situation in the last month where you let something go that you shouldn’t have. Not because it wasn’t worth addressing — but because it felt easier not to.

What would it look like to go back and hold that line, calmly and clearly?

That’s where this starts. Connect with me at @craig.spicer — I’d genuinely like to hear where this lands for you.


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Written by
Craig Spicer

Founder of Crazy Strength. 25+ years in strength sport. Former British Army PTI. Head Coach & South West Tutor for British Powerlifting. Cancer survivor. Public speaker.

📷 @craig.spicer More Posts →