I had a fabulous trip to Schwedt/Oder Germany in September for the IPF World Bench Press Championships. I'd never been to Germany before and was unsure what to expect. In short, the people were fantastic, the architecture was fantastic, the facilities were superb.
I'd like to start off with three random acts of kindness that summed the visit up.
Number One. I was going to be met at the airport by the organisers. There was a foul up (very un-German) and after waiting for nearly four hours I finally got through to my team manager on the phone. A man who was collecting a friend overheard my problem, and gave me a lift through Berlin to the train station so I could get a train to Schwedt. The 90 minute journey in a clean, on time train cost just over ten euros, by the way. Puts the British equivalent to shame!
Number Two. I met British lifter Derek Fender on the platform at Angermunde where we changed trains. When we arrived in Schwedt it was late, there were no taxis about, and we had no idea how to get to our hotels. Derek decided to go to the police station opposite to see if they could help us to get a taxi. He pointed to a poster for the bench press competition and said we were lifting in it. Five minutes later, we were in a police van being taken to our hotels. We were honoured guests in their town!
Number Three. I went over to Poland on the Sunday with Deborah and Michelle from the American team and Hagen, a German restaurant owner they had befriended who offered to drive us. After giving us a five hour tour of the whole area, both sides of the border, we went back to Hagen's restaurant and met up with some more American lifters. It was very quiet, so he closed it, said we were his honoured guests, and that everything was on the house. He then proceeded to bring out so much food that no one (and we're talking powerlifters here!) could eat another mouthful. Then came dessert! The first drink came out about 9.00 pm. I was introduced to a number of drinks I had never tried before. One every five to ten minutes, actually, until 3 in the morning! What a fabulous night! I couldn't do it often, nor would I want to, but sometimes these things that are totally unplanned and just happen are the most special and memorable.
I encountered far more kindness and courtesy while I was there, but I hope these three just give a flavour of the place.
And a quick word about the Americans. Many of us Brits tend to look cynically at the flag waving, the passionate rendition of their national anthem, the joy they all express when one of their number wins, their enthusiasm for their sport and life in general. I find them fantastic, warm and friendly. They still have the national pride that I remember us Brits having when I was growing up, and that the Scots, Welsh and Irish still have from time to time. I for one think it's marvellous to have that enthusiasm. It's a very positive emotion that we could do with far more of in Britain today. Lecture over.
Now to the lifting. I didn't expect to feature on the podium, and I wasn't disappointed! The standard in IPF is incredibly high. Before I lifted, I had spent most of the previous two days helping the other British lifters into their shirts. When it was my turn, we couldn't get my shirt on just right. I opened with 180 and missed it badly. Not even close. I tried it again second lift and somehow got it up - more through will than strength or technique. I tried for a 192.5 third lift, which was an attempt on the British M2 record, and didn't even go close.
I just wasn't up for it. Sounds daft at a world championships, but sometimes "it"'s just not there and the more you try to find "it" the further away "it" gets. But I had a great time, it was fantastic just being part of a British team at a world championships, and sometimes the taking part is as important as the winning.
I wore my kilt at the banquet, and as a result probably featured in more photos than just about anyone else. It was surreal, world champions coming up and asking for their photos to be taken with me. I also met Deborah Ferrell, the world's best female bench presser, at the banquet, and we struck a bet as to who will be the first to break through the 200 kilo barrier in IPF-sanctioned competition. It'll probably be Deborah, but I'm trying hard to beat her to it.
Poland on Sunday was an eye opener. Schwedt was right on the border, and in less than a mile we drove from comfortable affluence to abject poverty, the type of poverty you can almost feel when you're close up to it. As we stood on the Polish side of the Oder and looked back to Germany, I mused about how you would explain to an alien how such affluence and poverty stood side by side, and why those on one side had everything and those on the other had nothing. Enough geopolitics.
My abiding memory of Germany is friendship. Of all the lifters and officials I met. The Danes, the Swedes, the Americans, the Germans (of course) and the South Africans. And last but not least, my colleagues on the British team. A super bunch of lads, every one of them a gem, I was honoured to be part of the group and I look forward to doing it all again in 2008. And then 2009 is New Zealand. I'm saving already...
And a special thanks to Julian Massey and Ian Kinghorn for doing a superb job as manager and coach respectively. If you ever want to meet everyone who's anyone in powerlifting, just stand next to Julian at the banquet. Oh - and wearing a kilt while doing so definitely helps!
The photos attached are as follows: Me with Deborah and Michelle before leaving for Poland; my friends Joachim and Margit Flett from the German branch of the family; me and the German Fletts; the spectacular "stage on water" that we lifted on - the best venue I have ever been to; me with two members of the South African team; Bill McFadyen and I with the shirt we shared - only he broke the Over 70s world record in it while I couldn't even break wind in it; and Hans and Bill, two world champions that I am proud to count as friends. The restaurant photos will always remain secret!
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