When Strength Finds Its Meaning: Mirco Schoch Reflects on Taming the Beast

​When Mirco Schoch attended the world premiere of Taming the Beast in Basel, he expected to watch a documentary about one of strength sport's greatest athletes. ​Instead, he experienced something deeply personal.

​A highly respected powerlifter and multiple Open Powerlifting champion, Mirco has built his life around discipline, perseverance, and the pursuit of strength. But like Eddie Hall, his story reaches far beyond the platform. Behind the medals and competition results lies a journey marked by adversity, resilience, family, and the search for purpose.
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Following the premiere, Mirco and Lead Executive Producer Guido Baechler spent a long time talking about the film, its message, and the experiences that connected their very different lives. The conversation continued long after the credits had rolled and left a profound impression on both of them.
A few days later, Mirco put those emotions into words.

His reflection, originally published by Open Powerlifting, is much more than a review of Taming the Beast. It is a deeply personal letter about what true strength really means, how sport can shape our lives, and why vulnerability is often the greatest act of courage.

We're honoured to share his words here in full.

​Taming the Beast – When Strength Becomes More Than Muscle

by Mirco Schoch

From the GPA Platform to the World Premiere of Eddie Hall – A Personal Journey Through Family, Strength Sports, Mental Health, and the True Meaning of Strength

When I arrived in Basel on June 3, 2026, I expected to attend a special evening. I had been invited to the world premiere of Taming the Beast, a documentary about Eddie Hall, the former World's Strongest Man. What I did not know was that the evening would become much more than a film screening.

Only a few days earlier, I had stood on the platform at the GPA-GPF European Invitational in Annecy, France, where I was fortunate enough to achieve second place. The memories of that competition were still fresh. The passion of the organizers, the hospitality, and the respect shown toward the athletes had left a deep impression on me. It was clear that the people behind GPA-GPF do not simply organize strength sports—they live them.

With those thoughts in mind, I traveled to Basel. There I found myself in a completely different world, surrounded by filmmakers, producers, athletes, and guests. An evening was about to begin that would affect me in ways I never expected.

Within minutes it became clear that Taming the Beast was not a typical sports documentary. It was not about records, trophies, or titles. It was about people. About fear. About doubt. About family. About purpose. About the fight against our own inner demons.

And that was the moment when I began to recognize many parallels to my own life.

Many people compare me to Eddie Hall. Some because of my appearance, others because of my passion for heavy lifting. A few friends even jokingly call me “Eddie.” Yet that is not why this film touched me so deeply.

What moved me was not the World's Strongest Man. What moved me was the human being behind the title.

My own story did not begin in a gym and it certainly did not begin on a competition platform. It began with a difficult childhood. After my parents separated, I spent time in foster care, children's homes, and later on a youth sailing ship before eventually continuing my education and training in northern Germany.

For many years, my life was shaped by uncertainty, anxiety, self-doubt, and a constant search for belonging. Many people see the athlete standing on the platform today. They see the medals, the competitions, and the muscles. What they do not see is the road that led there.

In 2006, I met my wife Jenny. Looking back, this was the most important turning point of my life. For the first time, I felt that I belonged somewhere. For the first time, I experienced what family truly meant. Jenny became my anchor and gave me stability when I needed it most.

Of course, anxiety and self-doubt did not disappear overnight. But for the first time, I no longer had to face those battles alone.

While watching the documentary, I realized how important this theme is in Eddie Hall's story as well. Behind every successful person stand the people who catch them when they fall. Family. Friends. Partners. The people who continue believing in us when we no longer believe in ourselves.

Too often we talk about achievements. Too rarely do we talk about the people who make those achievements possible.

Throughout my life, I was always drawn to strength sports. At first, I trained simply to become healthier and stronger. Like many others, I became interested in bodybuilding. But over time, I realized that what fascinated me most was not aesthetics.

It was strength. The ability to overcome limitations. The willingness to continue despite discomfort. The discipline required to keep moving forward.

Eventually, that path led me to powerlifting—the squat, the bench press, and the deadlift.

As the years passed, I came to understand something important: the muscles were never the goal.

Powerlifting became a tool. A tool for dealing with life.

Powerlifting did not teach me how to lift heavy weights. Powerlifting taught me how to carry heavy burdens.

The strength I developed through this sport helps me not only on the platform but also in everyday life. It helps me be a better husband, a better father, a better friend, and a better member of society.

The number on the barbell does not determine how strong a person truly is. True strength is revealed by how we face adversity, how we treat other people, and how we carry responsibility for those who depend on us.

In 2016, our daughter Emilia was born.

No competition. No trophy. No title.

Nothing has ever changed my life as profoundly as that moment.

Suddenly, I was responsible not only for myself. Not only for Jenny. But for a child. A small human being who depended entirely on us.

From that day forward, my priorities changed. My purpose changed.

My greatest goal was no longer becoming stronger. My greatest goal became becoming a better person.

I wanted to give my daughter something I had spent much of my own life searching for: stability, security, trust, and direction.

If all the difficulties, setbacks, and pain in my life have any purpose, then it is this—to break the cycle and create a better future for the next generation.

Today Emilia is a bright, kind, and wonderful young girl. Nothing fills me with greater pride.

Perhaps that is one of the reasons why Taming the Beast touched me so deeply. Throughout the documentary, the importance of family is impossible to ignore. Beyond the records and achievements, Eddie Hall is also a husband and a father.

At the end of the day, it is not the records that remain. It is the people.

My connection to GPA-GPF goes beyond competition. During my years at sea, I worked alongside many Ukrainian sailors. They were among the most hardworking, respectful, resilient, and kind people I have ever met. They helped me when I was young and inexperienced and taught me lessons I still carry today.

Through them, I learned stories of hardship, sacrifice, resilience, and perseverance. Those experiences left a lasting impression on me.

This is one reason why I feel a deep respect for the roots and values represented by GPA-GPF.

One of the most memorable moments of the entire evening came after the premiere when I had the privilege of speaking with Guido Baechler, one of the film's producers.

This conversation left a profound impression on me.

Guido spoke openly about the challenges involved in producing Taming the Beast. He talked about financial difficulties, uncertainty, setbacks, and moments when the entire project seemed at risk.

What impressed me most was his honesty.

For the first time, I realized that the story of Taming the Beast was not only Eddie Hall's story. It was also the story of the people behind the camera.

A film producer. A strongman. A powerlifter.

Three completely different lives. And yet the same fears. The same doubts. The same struggles. And the same hope.

As I drove home that night, I thought about Eddie Hall, Guido Baechler, my family, my daughter, my wife, and my own journey.

And I realized something important.

We live in a world where strength is often misunderstood. People see muscles. They see records. They see trophies. But true strength is something much deeper.

True strength is responsibility. It is resilience. It is compassion. It is the ability to continue despite hardship. It is the courage to admit vulnerability. It is the determination to create a better future for those who come after us.

Perhaps that is the greatest strength of our sport.

Powerlifting and strength sports bring together people from different countries, cultures, and backgrounds. It creates friendships, communities, and support systems that extend far beyond the platform.

Organizations such as GPA and GPF provide athletes with much more than competitions. They create opportunities for people to meet, connect, grow, and support one another. They help preserve values such as respect, integrity, perseverance, and mutual support.

The sport has given me direction, purpose, and community throughout my life.

It has taught me that strength is not measured by the weight we lift. It is measured by the responsibilities we carry and by the people we choose to support along the way.

If Taming the Beast delivers one message, it is that none of us have to fight our battles alone.

And if powerlifting and organizations such as GPA and GPF deliver one message, it is the same:

Together, we are stronger.

Not only as athletes.

But as human beings.