16 May Stop Cutting Weight: Lessons from a Veteran Powerlifter
Article Rundown
- Cutting weight used to be essential for me—now I see it as optional at best, and a liability at worst.
- Obsessing over weight at the cost of performance is counterproductive.
- Train to get strong, not skinny.
- Recomp when it serves your goals, not your insecurities.
- And most importantly—enjoy the damn process
Stop Cutting Weight
Cutting weight was my identity for most of my powerlifting career. In fact, I wrote an entire book on the subject back in 2013. Meet after meet, year after year—I was always trimming pounds. At the time, it felt like the cost of doing business. But if you ask me now? I’ll tell you straight: stop cutting weight. Here’s why.
My History with Weight Cuts
For the bulk of my competitive years, I cut weight religiously. I’d routinely drop from 290 to 275 lbs, or from 270 all the way down to 242 lbs. Sometimes I’d be shedding 15, 20, even close to 30 pounds for a meet. I lived and trained in a constant cycle of depletion, dehydration, and bouncing back just in time to compete. It took a toll, physically and mentally.
Things changed in 2019. After taking a much-needed break from competition and resetting both mind and body, I made a big decision: no more cutting. Instead, I moved up two weight classes—pulling a Chuck Vogelpohl, who famously jumped from 220 to 275 back in the day. I’ve never been happier in training.
Performance Without Obsession
Training without the stress of a looming cut was a breath of fresh air. I was eating, recovering, and lifting heavy without fear. During prep for my 1306 lb world record squat, I drank Coke when I felt like it. I ate chocolate pudding, whole milk, Chipotle, and Greek yogurt. I fueled my body without anxiety.
That doesn’t mean I gave myself permission to get sloppy. I wasn’t advocating for uncontrolled weight gain, but I allowed myself to grow, adapt, and fill out. My spine handled the compression better over time. I got stronger. My body thrived. And most importantly, I enjoyed training again.
Body Image vs. Strength Reality
One of the hardest parts of abandoning weight cuts was facing my own obsession with leanness. I liked looking fit. I didn’t want to be labeled a “fat powerlifter.” But here’s the truth: aesthetics don’t move weight—levers and muscle do. The strongest people in the world often don’t look the part, and many of the most jacked, shredded physiques you see are surprisingly weak under the bar.
If strength is your goal, size helps. That doesn’t mean get fat. It means accepting that bigger, for many of us, is better. More mass = more potential force. More muscle and even a bit more fat often lead to more stable lifts, stronger cores, and more resilience, especially if you’re recovering from injury.
The Caveats: When Cutting Might Make Sense
Now, I’m not saying never cut. There are times when it makes sense. If you’ve gone up a class (or two) and your deadlift starts to suffer, take a cue from Louie Simmons: come back down a class. If you’re truly overweight and your lifts aren’t progressing, it may be time to clean up your nutrition and consider recomping.
Cutting should be strategic, not obsessive. Too often, it becomes the sole focus leading into a meet. That was me—I’d be jumping on the scale every hour, stressed about every bite I ate. That level of anxiety isn’t sustainable or productive for most lifters. If you’re not a professional chasing records or prize money, cutting just to make a number doesn’t always make sense.
Powerlifting is About Strength—Not Starvation
You didn’t get into lifting to suffer through endless weeks of hunger and water restriction. You got into it to get stronger, more powerful, and better than you were before. If strength is the goal, stop sabotaging your own performance by starving yourself. Instead, train, eat well, and allow your body to thrive under load.
My biggest regret in lifting isn’t the cuts or the missed lifts—it’s not having more fun. My last meet in 2020 was the most enjoyable of my career. No stress, no scale obsession—just lifting.
A Final Word: Don’t Misread This
Let me be clear: I’m not giving anyone a green light to be fat and lazy. But if I had to choose between a lifter who’s a little soft but fueled and powerful, versus one who’s shredded, underfed, and flat—I’ll take the soft one every time. Depleted and weak doesn’t build world-class totals. Nourished and strong does.
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