The Tire (continued)

The tire eventually rested behind the gym, where it stood with a cocky grin. It taunted me. But I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t the only one it was taunting. Other gym members wanted to get in on the act, too. They wanted to battle the Beast.

Enter William (“Will”)

When Will first walked into the Beast, yelling and screaming at other patrons to get after another rep, I thought he was crazy. After training with him for three years, I know he’s crazy, except now I use the term "crazy" as a term of endearment.

While Will isn't a tremendously imposing guy in terms of physical stature, he is imposing in terms of his training determination and grit. I’ve never seen anyone so adept at flipping the switch. He can be calm and cool one minute and then the next he is able to instantly harness an incredible amount of rage and effectively translate it into power.

When the monster tire arrived at the Beast, Will made a couple runs at it himself, each time coming up short, but he never believed the tire would ultimately defeat him. He entered the gym one day and, without saying a word, walked up to the small dry erase board and wrote a date on it (probably after erasing some residual pornographic sketches). I can no longer remember the precise date, but it was approximately one month in the future. That was the date that Will would flip the Beast.

I subtly monitored Will’s training during that month. To be candid, I didn’t see much that would make me a believer. There wasn’t much direct tire flipping practice, at least from what I could discern. He just did general squat and deadlift training. When the actual goal date arrived, I was expecting Will to beg off for an extension or conveniently forget the date, but that isn't what happened. That isn't what happened at all.

Will boomed into the gym. “Today is the day,” he said.

“Are you ready to do this?” I questioned.

“I have to be,” he responded. “It’s written on the board.”

As I recall, he warmed up and trained a bit. The next thing I knew, he flipped the switch and practically ran out of the gym back to where the tire rested, awaiting his formidable challenge. It's hard to give the event that followed any justice. Will sprang into the tire with the force of a Tasmanian devil. As the rubber began to break from the ground, he momentarily stumbled/relented and was forced to grip again, but that somehow only increased his resolve.

He’s not going to get it.

Muscle and tendons strained as the tire broke the ground again and capitulated to Will’s iron determination. The tire was flipped. He had achieved his incredible goal and the gym joined him in a mad celebration. I was blown away.

Jon, the tire flipping machine

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Jon in this article. When Jon first walked into the gym, he was a strong guy but had relatively minimal experience with weight training. From the moment he walked in the door though, he could flip a tire like no one else I had ever seen before. In fact, he brought his own tire with him—a formidable 650-pounder with well-worn tread that had previously been housed in his backyard. Jon played with that tire much in the same manner that a cat plays with a mouse. I believe he and Will once flipped it 75 times each in the span of 30 minutes.

Jon’s first flipping of the Beast is, at best, a hazy memory for me, which is probably because after the first flip, he was, in short order, flipping it for triples—a feat I still find astounding.

At his first Strongman competition, an event at Lightning Fitness in South Windsor, Connecticut, Jon utilized his skills to take first place overall in the tire flip/farmer’s walk medley. I was there to support Jon and was proud of the way he competed that day. He captured fourth overall in the heavyweight division.

Full circle back to my last “attempt”

I crouched and drove my 280-pound frame, chest first, into the tire, my face smashed against the rubber. The guys from the gym surrounded me in an excited pack. All at once, I exploded into the tread, and for the first time on one of my attempts, rubber broke free from the ground. I was going to do it. I was finally going to do it. I could feel the emotion building inside of me with each inch that I broke the Beast off the ground. Then, pop!

I tore the muscle in my right calf and was forced to let the monster tire fall back to the asphalt. I leaned against my unrelenting opponent in disbelief and disappointment, eventually limping back into the gym searching for an ice pack.

The match had ended and that monster of a tire, that Beast, had claimed victory over me once again.

What I learned from the experience

Despite my hard training, I realized that I have a tremendous amount of “strength leakage,” the phenomena whereby training with barbells and dumbbells alone can leave “small gaps between weight-room strength” and the strength required to participate in sports and other generally challenging physical activities. Steven Morris refers to this as strength leakage.

Because most of my training was so powerlifting focused (i.e. squat, bench, and deadlift), I had been neglecting certain muscle groups deemed less-important for powerlifting but germane for other generally challenging physical activities.

I did tear my calf muscle on the attempt, but the next day both my biceps were incredibly sore as well. To be clear, I'm well aware that biceps aren't in any way of primary importance to the tire flip and that by engaging them to any degree presents a significant risk of injury. I strongly dissuade you from doing so. Yet, mine were so detrained that even subtly engaging them could have been catastrophic.

Will I make another run at the tire? I'm sure I will eventually. However, I have some other goals that are paramount right now. Before I elect to make another run at it, I know I need to strengthen the following:

  • Calves to better facilitate the transfer of power from the ground up
  • Stabilizer muscles, particularly my core
  • Biceps (although not a primary mover—and very easy to tear when flipping heavy tires incorrectly—there can be ancillary impact, so the biceps should be strong if only for the sake of protection)

The tire is still out there resting and getting stronger. Sometimes at night, when the moon is full, I can almost hear it calling my name with its raspy whisper. Let’s dance again.

I smile to myself because I know something it doesn’t. I’m getting stronger, too.