ANTIFRAGILITy and flow

I love this concept of antifragility as coined by philosopher, economist and author, Nassim Taleb. If fragility shatters under stress, and robustness resists it, then antifragility is something else entirely, it grows stronger because of it. As elite powerlifters, this is not just theory. It’s our lived reality, and flow is how we access it. In this piece, I’ll unpack what antifragility really means for us as strength athletes, how to spot fragility in your mindset and training, and why flow—the elusive state where everything just clicks—isn’t just nice to have, but essential.

By the end of this, I want you to see your setbacks differently. To understand that breakdowns, plateaus, and even injuries aren't always signs of weakness—they’re invitations. If you’re paying attention, they can be a portal to greater capacity, resilience, and performance. That’s the difference between lifting for numbers and training for mastery.

Fragile

That’s easy to identify. Strength that is easily shattered—like a china plate. Strong, yes. Good for eating meals off, and there’s no way you’d want to be hit over the head with one. But still: easily broken. Fragility often looks strong—or is only strong once. Fragile things have no bounce. In our example of the china plate, if we drop it, it smashes into pieces. No negotiation.

No adaptation. No coming back.

Powerlifters don’t want fragile strength.

However, most of us know someone who fits the description of a fragile strength athlete. They look the part. They move weight. But it’s built on eggshells. They’re often injured or over-trained. They break down when things don’t go their way—when the plan doesn’t deliver. They grip tightly to rigid beliefs, can’t pivot, can’t flow. You can spot the internal tension from a distance. They’re always a day away from a physical or mental blowout. Yet they still put up a decent total from time to time. Sometimes they even dominate one lift. Strong. But fragile.

Robust

Robust is the next level up. Robust can take hits. Robust can survive.

Robust is metal or concrete. It’s durable. Doesn’t break easily. I used to think that was the goal. That we were here to become robust—harder to kill, harder to injure, harder to knock off track. I built my training and recovery around the idea of becoming robust.

But robust only “resists” damage. It doesn’t gain from it. It doesn’t “grow” from volatility or chaos.

Antifragile is where it's at

Antifragility isn’t just surviving chaos—it’s “improving” from it. Getting better “because of” the stress, not in spite of the stress, and not having stress rule your life. The stronger the shock, the better the system becomes. Not despite the hits, but because of them.

Think about how you got into powerlifting in the first place. No one gets strong by sitting still in a perfect, sterile environment. We get strong by putting the system under load, recovering, adapting, and repeating. Strength is literally built on stress. But not just any stress—the right stress. The kind that signals, that forces the body to evolve.

Biological systems are antifragile, even if they don’t always appear that way. If you program intelligently, eat well, sleep enough, and let go of rigidity—your body becomes something that “grows from stress”. It's not just about surviving hard blocks. It’s about using them to level up. Sometimes, though, it’s about being patient enough to see the growth.

But here’s the twist: antifragility isn’t just physical. The real edge—the elite edge—is in mindset and awareness. Mental antifragility. Emotional antifragility. Nervous system antifragility.

That’s where flow comes in.

Flow is our peak performance state.

Whenever we do something that surprises even ourselves—something that seemed out of reach—that’s flow. Flow is when your deeper systems take over. The self vanishes, time dilates, concentration is total, action and awareness merge, and we feel effortlessly though paradoxically in control of our universe. It's the zone. The pocket. Whatever you want to call it.

And here’s the thing: Flow isn’t fragile either. Flow is built on trust, attention, and feedback. You can’t fake it. You can’t force it. But you can invite it. Flow begets flow.

We’ve all touched it. That moment under the bar when time slows down, or vanishes entirely. Your mind is still. Your body knows. You don't think—you just do. And it feels clean, effortless, and powerful.

Flow is where we perform at our best and feel our best. It’s not always PRs and white lights. Sometimes it’s a smooth, perfect third warm-up. Sometimes it’s a tough top single that just clicks. Flow doesn’t guarantee perfection. But it guarantees presence. And from presence comes power.

The conditions for flow are also the conditions for antifragility.

Let’s unpack that.

To enter flow, we need:

• A challenge that stretches us just past our current limits (not way beyond—just enough).

• Clear goals and immediate feedback.

• Total focus and immersion.

• A loss of ego—the inner critic is silenced.

• A sense of control balanced by risk. The tension between “I got this” and “this could crush me.”

Sound familiar?

This is exactly what elite-level powerlifting requires.

Peak lifting—whether on the platform or in training—demands all of this. If you’re chasing mastery in this sport, you need more than just strong muscles. You need a system—mental, physical, emotional—that can adapt to stress and thrive in chaos.

Training isn’t linear. Life isn’t linear. Progress isn’t linear. The lifters who can only function inside neat, predictable systems—those who need perfect sleep, exact macros, optimal programs, low stress, and zero disruption—those lifters are fragile. Or, at best, robust.

But the ones who rise—consistently—are the ones who can bend without breaking. The ones who find flow *in the mess*. The ones who can feel pain without panicking. Who know when to push and when to hold. Who trust the process *and* trust themselves.

Flow requires yielding to a process.

And that’s uncomfortable for most powerlifters. Because we’re control freaks by nature. We track. We plan. We micromanage variables. And there’s nothing wrong with that—until it becomes the only way you feel safe.

But flow doesn’t come from force. It comes from letting go of control—just enough to let something deeper emerge.

You can’t grind your way into flow. You have to open to it.

This is why some of your best lifts feel easy—even if the weight is heavy. Because ease and effortlessness don’t mean “no work.” They mean that everything is aligned. Body, breath, focus, intention. All tuned. All synced.

And the body loves that state. The nervous system loves it. It’s self-organizing.

Self-calibrating. It’s what we’re built for.

Powerlifting at the highest level is a dance between chaos and control.

You need structure—but not rigidity. You need load—but not overload. You need discipline—but not obsession.

The deeper game is staying open while staying committed. Letting go without giving up. Pushing hard without collapsing. That’s the art. That’s the edge.

Antifragility is not just about recovery—it’s about resilience plus evolution. It's the ability to *bounce back stronger*, not just survive intact.

And flow is the access point to that growth. Flow is where the signal becomes clear. Where feedback is immediate. Where emotion supports action. Where all the noise fades and the body gets to work.

So what does this mean for you—right now, where you are?

It means stop chasing perfection. Stop waiting for perfect sleep, perfect macros, perfect timing. That’s fragile thinking. It means building systems that allow for fluidity. Not just periodized progressions, but responsiveness. Feedback loops. Intuition.

Train like a lifter who trusts their own adaptability. Embrace a little chaos. Get curious when things go wrong. Learn to listen, not just control.

You’re not porcelain. You’re not concrete. You are biological brilliance, designed to respond, to reshape, to rise.

Antifragile lifters flow.

They don’t white-knuckle through the process. They learn how to surf the wave.

They bend. They adapt. They come back better.

They don’t resist the stress—they *absorb* it and *upgrade*.

That’s what we’re here to do.

So breathe. Stay loose. Lock in. Ride the chaos.

Let go—just enough—to flow.

And when it comes, don’t question it. Lean in.

You were built for this.