No One Cares About Your PRs

by Phil Ringman | August 12, 2025

One of the advantages of not beginning weight training until later in life, versus starting at a young age, is that virtually everything you do – at least for a while – is a Personal Record. Now, at age 71, PRs don't come as often or as easily as they used to, but I recently pulled a lifetime PR on the deadlift, a month later topped that with another PR of 347.5lb, and I'll likely top that again in the next few weeks.

I ran for 50-plus years. I began following Starting Strength 11 years ago at the age of 60, while continuing to run. A few years later, due to a foot issue, I gave up running and focused on lifting, hiring a coach a couple years after that. I didn't keep a very good training log at first, but since 2019 I can tell you my PRs for each lift for every year since. I can tell you the first time I pulled a three-plate deadlift and a four-plate rack pull.

Just a few days ago I matched my bench press PR on my once-every-two-weeks heavy bench day, which is three heavy (for me) singles and two or three back-off sets of three at 85 percent. My first single was 165 and the second 170, which equaled my PR. But I have a tendency to get impatient, which my coach, Rusty Holcomb, sometimes has to rein in. “It's only 2.5 more pounds, I can do that.” Not necessarily.

Rusty felt that my 170 bench, although successful, was shaky enough that a third single at 172.5 was far from a certainty. He said we'll go for the PR in two weeks and dropped me back to 162.5 for the final single, with the rationale that a failed rep doesn't give the full training effect since I'm not completing the rep. And the training effect of a heavy completed rep, even if it is not a limit rep, is more beneficial than a failed rep at a heavier weight. Not to mention the positive mental benefit of not failing a heavy rep.

For context, I hit 170 on the bench press in early 2024, but then had to reset due to unexplained shoulder inflammation, which prevented me from performing standard overhead presses and bench presses at all for a couple months, although we were able to substitute some assistance exercises which allowed me to continue training. The inflammation lingered for nearly three months until I took a six-day course of methylprednisolone.

I know those are not spectacular numbers. (One of my training partners here at the Wichita Falls Athletic Club, a couple years older, deadlifts much more for multiple reps.) But I was happy because it was the most I've ever done. And I'm 71. And I was happy about getting back to my previous bench press highs after a major reset.

But, it turns out, no one really cares about your PRs. Except for your coach – if you have one – and the other people who happen to train at the same time you do (see image above).

Your coach cares because if you're setting PRs, it means you're lifting heavier weights, which means you're getting stronger, which means he's doing his job well. Which means I'll keep paying him. Others in the gym care because they understand what it takes to lift heavy stuff because they've either been there already, or soon will be.

Beyond that, no one else cares because they can't relate it to anything in their world. You can tell someone who doesn't lift, even a spouse, that you just deadlifted 347.5 lb, and it means very little. You might as well have said that you lifted 800 lb, or lifted a Volkswagen off of a baby.

Their response, more than likely, will be “What's a deadlift?”

Along with “No one really cares,” here are a few other lessons I've learned about PRs:

1. At the risk of belaboring the obvious, PRs are hard. After a recent PR attempt that included a long grind (I can't remember whether it was a success or a fail), I commented to Rusty, “That was hard.” His response was something along the lines of, “Duh, it's supposed to be hard. That's why it's a PR.”

2. Form has to be absolutely perfect. And my form is sometimes less than perfect. (My fault, not my incredibly patient coach.) I know how I'm supposed to do it, but when the weight gets heavy, it doesn't always happen the way it is supposed to. Sometimes on the deadlift I don't keep the bar against my shins, which essentially adds 5 to 10 or more pounds, which, in turn, often leads to a fail when I'm already at my limit.

3. Don't obsess about PRs. The goal is not to hit PRs. The goal is to get stronger. Sure, PRs are the measurement for getting stronger, but focusing on PRs leads to being hasty and greedy, taking jumps that are too big, and failed reps. With patience, the PRs will come.

4. Don't compare yourself to others. I know better, but I sometimes still do it. That's why PRs are called PRs – “Personal” records. PRs are my gauge to measure myself against what I've previously done, not what someone else is doing. But it's still hard not to notice the guy in the next rack and how much more he is lifting. I have to remind myself what others are doing doesn't matter. I'm putting just as much effort into my 347.5 deadlift as the guy who can deadlift 800 puts into his.

As time marches on, I know that someday the PRs will stop. But I plan to keep showing up.