No.
For those who are unfamiliar, Olympic weightlifters train two lifts, where the athlete takes a loaded barbell from the ground to overhead. These two lifts are referred to as the snatch and the clean and jerk.
There are lots of reason WHY I like to train these lifts, and none of them have anything to do with competing in the Olympics. These movements have helped me with my balance, posture, speed, flexibility, power, explosiveness, and of course, overall strength.
For the snatch, you essentially have to take a barbell, from the floor, grab it, jump up with it, and pull it into the air, all while maintaining a position that will allow you to catch the bar over your head in a squat position before you stand up with it overhead.
For the clean and jerk, you grab that barbell (typically heavier than in the snatch unless you're like one lifter I know) from the floor, jump up with it and catch it in front of you in a squat position, stand up with it resting on your front rack position, and then from that rack position, jump up and take it from the rack to overhead in one motion, sometimes splitting your legs apart to get under it, some times not.
I will now refer you to some Lidia Valentin (-75kg weightlifting diva from Spain) to demonstrate:
It's art. It's high stakes ballet. IT'S SCARY AS $#%&.
Sure they are physically demanding, but as my coach tells me pretty much every time I see him, they are mentally tough. For me, I have much more raw strength and power than the numbers on my lifts demonstrate because my brain screws me up all the time. If you watched every a little bit of the video linked above, you'll see why. AND THOSE LIFTS ARE IN SLOW MOTION.
In the blink of an eye, and with all the conviction you can muster, you have to get down under that bad boy. This is where the wheels come off the wagon for me a lot of the time, especially in the snatch. It goes against thousands of years of of the evolutionary biology. You get out of the way when heavy things are thrown over your head. How do you combat that? I've derived an approach, both from my own experience and watching some amazing athletes:
Three parts confidence, one part strength, one part blatant disregard for gravity, and one part cat-like reflexes to get out of the way when if it goes awry.
In real time: Lidia in real time
That's it. I've decided- instead of telling people that I train in Olympic weightlifting, I am going to say that I regularly fight epic battles against gravity, in my mind via my muscles, so I don't drop that barbell on myself.
Hard.
That sounds way cooler.
