Kettlebell Face-Off Hits Cambridge

A graduate student and a postdoctoral researcher met under an Oxford Street overhang in Saturday’s near-freezing rain to heave cannonball-like weights over their heads as many times as they could manage.

Angelo A. Mondragon, who works in a chemical laboratory at MIT faced off against Jason T. Clower, a graduate student in the Committee on the Study of Religion, in an event billed as New England’s first kettlebell-lifting competition.

Kettlebell lifting is a grueling workout imported from the Soviet military and rapidly gaining popularity within the American fitness world.

The two-stage match first required the competitors to “snatch” a kettlebell—a large iron ball with a handle—over their heads with one hand, and then to “jerk” two kettlebells upward from their chests simultaneously.

The referee stood nearby in a leather jacket and counted the repetitions in a robotic monotone.

Each kettlebell weighed 24 to 32 kilograms. Lifting a kettlebell requires a special technique that, according to Clower, is far more metabolically strenuous than ordinary strength training because it incorporates the entire body rather than arms alone.

“It really hammers at your lungs,” said Sean Gomez, a dancer and a software-engineering graduate student at Brandeis University who refereed the match. He started training with kettlebells two months ago to maintain his fitness between dance rehearsals. “It’s a ballistic movement,” he explained.

The match could not become an official kettlebell-lifting competition because Clower and Mondragon were not in the same weight class. No winner was declared.

In a kettlebell-lifting competition, heavier lifters are handicapped by lifting heavier kettlebells.

Clower spent the half-hour before the match chewing Trident gum and spitting into the bushes in an attempt to lose six pounds of water weight and move down a weight class. He failed, and so had to lift a 32-kilogram (about 70 pounds) kettlebells while Mondragon competed with a kettlebell 8 kilograms (about 17 pounds) lighter.

The different weight distinctions, Mondragon said, meant different lifting techniques. During the first “snatch,” he swung the kettlebell above his head in a forward arc, while Clower hopped slightly to pull the heavier kettlebell straight up.

“Sometimes more reps with the lighter weights are more punishing,” Clower said. He snatched the kettlebell 20 times with each arm while Mondragon performed the movement 30 times on each side.

Lifters must be certain not to tire themselves in snatching with one arm, because their performance with the weaker arm determines their score, according to the official kettlebell rules.

Russian immigrant Pavel Tsatsouline introduced these regulations, as well as the kettlebell regimen itself, to the United States in the early 1990s.

Tsatsouline was formerly a physical training instructor for the Soviet Special Forces. The U.S. kettlebelling community still refers to itself as The Party.

They communicate through a network of Internet message boards and chat rooms.

Tsatsouline introduced kettlebells to the American fitness community in workshops and videos and has become something of a guru, authoring such books as The Russian Kettlebell Challenge: Xtreme Fitness for Hard-Living Comrades and From Russia with Tough Love: Pavel’s Kettlebell Workout for a Femme Fatale.

His publishers have coined the slogan, “When we say strength, we mean kettlebells, when we say kettlebells, we mean strength.”

Clower began lifting kettlebells because he felt that his weightlifting regimen did not develop fitness sufficiently.

“I was a power-lifter getting fat,” he said. “You could buy these from a supplier over the Internet. I did and I totally fell in love.”

Mondragon started training with kettlebells after receiving one of Tsatsouline’s instructional videos as a Christmas gift.

Both they and Gomez have studied Tsatsouline’s books, which feature pictures of bare-chested Tsatsouline as “Master of Sports” demonstrating proper kettlebell lifting positions and technique.

During a required 30-to-60 minute break between the “snatch” and the “jerk,” Clower slumped against a wall and closed his eyes to rest. He breathed through a straw—a trick for slowing respiration that he learned from Tsatsouline. His hands were smeared with chalk.

“I can’t believe you never use chalk,” he said to Mondragon, rubbing his palms against a cube of the white powder. “They say it’s good for your grip, but I’ve never wanted to find out.”

As they rested, Gomez swung a kettlebell toward the street for practice.

He owns no kettlebell, but practices at home with an ordinary weight, he said. He and his roommate perform their exercise regimes on different ends of an old New England building.

“It we’re both working out at the same time,” he said, “sometimes the house shakes.”

As the “jerk” round began, Mondragon prepared to pick up the two kettlebells in tandem. He had been practicing at home with kettlebells of two different weights, he said, so he had no notion of how he would perform.

“I feel my knees shaking,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Clower. “I’m kind of scared.”

Mondragon cried out as he heaved the two kettlebells above his head for the last three times, bringing his total to 17 jerks. Clower plucked some fallen leaves from the concrete and removed his sweater.

“Remind me to lift through my heels,” he told Mondragon.

Clower successfully jerked the kettlebell 13 times, yielding a final score of 33.

“Not what I hoped for at all, but a PR in both,” he said.

The lifters will convene again this year. A competition in Virginia this spring will include about 20 participants. They mentioned another possible New England competition in February. Lifters organize each event themselves, usually over the Internet.

“The whole thing is very grassroots,” Gomez said.