I didn’t think much of it at first. Just another event, another chance to sweat and maybe test myself against strangers I’ll probably never see again. That was my mindset when I signed up for UBL | The Italian Championship®. Looking back now, I laugh a little at how wrong I was.
Naples wasn’t even on my radar. I booked the trip last minute. Jet lagged, sleep-deprived, and honestly—doubting if I even belonged there. The online photos didn’t do it justice. Mostra d’Oltremare is something else entirely in person. Palms swaying in the heat, kids climbing statues, athletes stretching against columns like some kind of fitness postcard from a parallel universe.
On day one, I missed my heat by seven minutes. Language barrier, confusion, bad luck. I thought that was it—trip ruined. But someone from the staff just smiled and said, “It’s okay. We’ll make space.” And they did. No drama. No guilt. Just a shrug and a clipboard shuffle. I remember thinking, wait, competitions can be kind?
Between events, there’s this hum. Not noise, exactly—something softer. People talking about their box back home, about injuries they trained through, about how good the espresso is (it really is). I sat next to a guy from Marseille who was stretching barefoot and humming “Bohemian Rhapsody” between mobility drills. I don’t even know his name, but I still think about that moment.
The workouts were brutal, of course. It’s UBL. They don’t hold back. But it’s funny what I remember most. Not my score. Not the leaderboard. I remember the little girl in the crowd holding a sign that said “Vai Papà!” with glitter letters. I remember the volunteer who ran over just to refill my water bottle during a heat because I looked like I was fading. I remember how loud the cheers got, even for the last finisher.
I’ve been to plenty of events. But this one… it doesn’t let go. It gets under your skin a little. Makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s more to this sport than reps and recovery times. Like maybe the real lift isn’t the clean and jerk—it’s the conversations between heats. The quiet support from people who don’t know your name but still clap like you’re winning something that matters.
There’s a full write-up of the 2024 event schedule and categories here if you’re curious. Or this piece goes into how UBL is attracting athletes from 40+ countries now. Impressive stuff. But none of those stats tell you what it feels like to stand under that southern Italian sun, hear your name mispronounced over the speaker, and still feel seen.
So no, I didn’t come home with a medal. But I did come home different. Lighter, somehow. Not in weight—but in the way I carry myself. And I think that’s worth more than any podium.
If you ever get the chance to go, go. Even if you’re not ready. Especially if you’re not ready. UBL has a way of meeting you where you are—and then showing you who you might become.
