Your Strongest Bodyweight
by Carl Raghavan, SSC | January 28, 2025
This one is going to ruffle some feathers, I’d put money on it. But
here it is, for your viewing pleasure – a scatter graph designed to
visually show what your ideal bodyweight should be as a lifter. Not
for an ultra-marathoner, an elite rings-specialist gymnast, or a
free-solo rock climber. This is for someone who takes training
seriously and wants to measure all the variables that truly move the
needle. Mass moves mass, ladies and gentlemen. This isn’t a BMI
chart or a body-fat caliper measurement. It’s a definitive solution
to the age-old question: How much should I weigh, Rip? That question
is the bad penny that just won’t go away. You’re welcome.
The graph
aligns with the observations of Marty Gallagher. The strongest people
in the world show a clear correlation between height and bodyweight.
Here’s the algorithm: For individuals between 5 and 7 feet tall
(60–84 inches), a general guideline suggests that each inch of
height corresponds to an estimated bodyweight increase of 3.3 to 4.41
lbs (1.5–2 kg).
Why is this
so interesting? Because this might be the first time an infographic
has been designed to demonstrate these bodyweight ideals. Strength
standard tables and training programs have been around for ages, but
a bodyweight chart that tracks your strongest weight category for
peak strength performance? I’m not sure anything like that has been
publicly available before. And that’s a problem, because seeing is
believing. This subject is brought up repeatedly – almost comically
so – and yet many people still struggle to grasp the concept: to
become stronger, you must gain weight. Bigger and stronger are part
of the same process; they are not separate topics. A muscle gets
stronger by getting bigger.
For
example, if you’re 6’2″ (74 inches) and weigh 225 lb, you are
underweight. The minimum weight for you to reach peak strength is 244
lb. On the other hand, if you’re 5’0″ (60 inches) and weigh
300 lb, you’re clearly far beyond any reasonable bodyweight range
– you’re a big fat mess.
Of course, just
hitting these weight ranges isn’t the whole picture. You need to
complement your bodyweight with strength. If you’re 6’2″ and
weigh 250 lb (which would put you into an ideal range) but your
lifts are 185/225/295/315 (press/bench/squat/deadlift), you probably
look like you don’t even train. Similarly, if you’re 5’0″ and
300 lb (massively into the overweight category for your height),
you’d better be pulling a 900-lb deadlift to justify your weight.
Like most things in training, it’s nuanced and involves multiple
variables.
The problem is
that weight gain is the one variable men in the weight room tend to
avoid like the plague, as if they’re the exception to the rule.
Instead they think they need a programming tweak, more curls, or
worse: more volume, based on their RPE “feels.” In reality, the
reason you’re stuck with mediocre strength results is probably
because you refuse to eat and maintain a bodyweight that allows for
real progress. Especially at the lower end of these weight ranges.
And don’t worry, your aesthetics will be fine, as long as your
numbers back up the weight gain.
How do I know
this? I’m 5’5″ and used to weigh 175 lb soaking wet. Now, at
275 lb, with lifts of 330/377/606/639 (press/bench/squat/deadlift),
I’ve increased all my lifts by 40–50%. Strength and bodyweight
are not separate from performance; they are symbiotic. They fuel
lifelong progress. If you were serious, I wouldn’t have to convince
you that these numbers matter.
My numbers aren’t
me bragging. I have, at best, average genetics. A 25-inch SVJ at
best. I was never bad at sports, enjoyed lots of different ones, but
always had to work my butt off, and was hungry to be better. In my
opinion, my progress as a lifter is a massive over-achievement
compared to what I thought was possible. The reason I accomplished
most of my lifetime goals —300/400/500/600 — was simply because I
didn’t quit. Many lifters drop off and stop gaining strength and
size because they burn out or choose to settle at a certain
bodyweight. That’s always a choice.
My question, however,
is always in the back of my mind: What could they have achieved if
they had kept going? I don’t want that regret weighing on my
conscience when I pass. But it often felt like forever to reach a new
bodyweight. For example, going from 100 to 110kg seemed to take ages.
I always thought: That’s it, I’ve given everything I have.
There’s no way I can gain even another gram of bodyweight after
this. And yet, here I am at 125kg, another 15 kilos beyond the point
where I once believed gaining any more was impossible. I bet you have
felt this way about gaining weight too.
Are you crying
about eating every two hours, being “always full,” or struggling
to walk up stairs? Then go take up ultra-marathons or road cycling,
if you want to look like someone who’s been on chemo for two years.
We’re in the strength business. That means we want you to
look jacked, have a decent amount of muscle, and command attention
when you walk into a room – all while keeping your clothes on.
People know what “big and strong” looks like when it walks
through the door. No one needs to see abs to tell.
How do I know
this? When I was 5’5″ and 175 lb with long hair, people used to
ask me, “What instrument do you play?” because I looked more like
a musician than a lifter. Now, at 275 lb, the question is, “What
doors do you work at?” or “What’s your bench?” because I look
like a bouncer or a lifter – or both. True story: this happened on
Christmas 2024 (so very recently). I was at a bar, drinking with a
client (they can vouch for the story). A big dude wearing a Guinness
Christmas knitted sweater came up to me and said, “I have a
girlfriend, but I just wanted to say you look like an absolute
specimen of a man.”
We both laughed, and I
thought to myself: No guy ever came up to me and complimented my
physique when I had abs at 175 lb. At 275 lb and strong, I look and
carry myself completely differently. Being big has never been a
disadvantage – that’s a myth. If you act desperate and insecure
about how you look and feel, you’ll radiate desperation, and women
especially are incredibly perceptive of it. For me, being at a
heavier bodyweight has never caused issues with dating. (I’ll leave
my past to your imagination.)
So, to all the
keyboard trolls itching to chime in with, “No way, man. Larry
Wheels has abs and squats 900 lb.” Yes, he does. Taking PEDs is a
personal choice, and I don’t judge anyone for it, but I’m not
stupid enough to ignore the massive difference between enhanced and
natural lifters. Steroids work, apparently. Who knew? That said, most
elite lifters use PEDs at levels I can’t support. I’m not a
specialist on PEDs, but I do know how to make natural, normal people
strong. My training methods prove it.
At Starting
Strength, we aren’t training elite powerlifters. We’re here to
make regular people stronger, grandmas included. But to achieve
results that mirror those of an enhanced lifter, the average man must
at least accept that weight gain is a primary variable. Train three
days a week, add 5 lb to the bar every session, and get to strength
nirvana.
So let me ask
again: Look at your logbooks. Do you want to take things up a notch
or just coast along in mediocrity? Jump on the scale. Are you where
you need to be? Ask yourself honestly: Do you want to see yourself
train and crush all-time PRs at your strongest body weight? Then
let’s go!
