What’s a Competition Worth?
Years ago, I read an article where Ivan Abadjiev discussed the importance of regular competitions in the training plan of the Bulgarian weightlifting team. In it, he stated that one competition was worth two weeks of training. His theory was that the unique stresses of competition—even a small one—provide a stimulus equivalent to two full weeks of structured training.
This might sound exaggerated. After all, the training volume on any given day is much higher than what’s performed in a single competition. But somehow, that concentrated dose of intensity in competition delivers a greater impact. Is this really possible?
Let me share a story that might shed some light.
Every late summer in America, about a million high school athletes kick off football season with the grueling tradition known as two-a-days. With minimal preparation, the season begins with practices twice a day for roughly two weeks. I remember enduring those weeks myself—six hours a day under the punishing August sun. We'd spend three hours on offense, three on defense, sandwiching in food and special teams work somewhere in between. And we did it every day.
After two-a-days wrapped up, we shifted to a regular practice schedule—just two and a half hours a day—for one week before our first game that Saturday night. That first game, I only played on the offensive line—no defense, no special teams. And yet, the next morning, I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a truck. Every muscle and joint in my body ached. I was completely drained, physically and mentally. I couldn’t even stand to be around people.
The soreness I felt after that game far surpassed anything I’d experienced during two-a-days. By the second week of two-a-days, my body had adjusted, and the daily aches had mostly faded. So why did this relatively short game—maybe 40 to 50 offensive plays—leave me so wrecked?
The answer is intensity.
The volume during that game was significantly lower than what we endured during practice—probably half or less. But the intensity was off the charts. No matter how hard the coaches pushed us in practice, no matter how aggressive your teammate ran a drill, nothing could replicate the intensity of a real game. The stands were full, the opponent wasn’t your buddy, and everything counted.
That’s what made the difference. Volume can wear you down, but intensity leaves a lasting mark. The soreness of two-a-days is a faded memory. But the way I felt after that first varsity game? I’ll never forget it.
The same principle applies to weightlifting and Abadjiev’s view on competition. The total work done in a meet is far less than in training—just the snatch and clean & jerk. No squats, no pulls, and only a handful of maximal attempts. You carefully manage your warm-ups to avoid burning out before those three precious tries.
And yet, a meet can leave you feeling utterly spent.
Why? Because it’s real. You’re lifting in front of strangers, competing against others, and most of all, battling the barbell. You only get three attempts per lift. That’s it. No do-overs. The pressure is real. PRs are on the line. You want to look strong. You want to win. No matter how much we try to simulate competition in training, we always know we can try again tomorrow.
But in a meet, there is no tomorrow. You have three shots, and that’s all. Fight or flight kicks in on every lift.
So keep that in mind when planning your training. Competitions can dramatically accelerate the training process—not because of volume, but because of intensity. Abadjiev may have been right all along.
1 Competition = 2 Weeks of Training