Say kettlebell, and most people picture a dusty corner of the gym, those round iron bells used for quick swings between sets. But hidden inside that simple shape is an entire sport: Kettlebell Sport, or Girevoy Sport, born in the heart of Russia. The word girya itself means kettlebell in Russian. What began as a simple tool for farmers to weigh grain evolved into one of the world’s most gruelling strength-endurance disciplines. Its events sound deceptively simple — the jerk, the long cycle, and the snatch — but they test every ounce of precision, breath control, and mental resilience an athlete has. Professional divisions lift two 24 kg bells for women and two 32 kg bells for men. Amateurs lift 16 kg for women and 24 kg for men.
From Russian Roots to Global Grit
Kettlebell Sport was formalised in the Soviet era as a test of strength and endurance. Over decades, it developed its own techniques, timing, and judging systems, eventually spreading across Europe, America, Asia, and now India. Today, the sport falls under federations like the International Union of Kettlebell Lifting (IUKL) and national bodies such as the Kettlebell Sport India Association (KSIA). The formats have evolved beyond the traditional 10-minute sets. There are now half-marathons, full marathons, and even events with multiple hand switches, each testing not just strength, but stamina and focus. Yet despite this evolution, kettlebell sport remains one of the least recognised disciplines. It lacks funding, facilities, and visibility. In a country obsessed with cricket, it’s an uphill climb to even get people to know what this sport is, let alone support it.
The Invisible Women of Iron
If the sport itself is niche, then women in kettlebell sport exist almost in the shadows. There are no fancy sponsorships or televised championships. Women train in makeshift setups, sometimes on uneven floors, under tube lights, without proper bells. They balance work, families, and training, often with no coach and even less recognition. And yet, they show up.
The women of kettlebell sport aren’t chasing fame; they’re chasing mastery. Every rep is an act of defiance against invisibility. Every lift says, “we’re here too.” Ask someone about kettlebell sport, and you’ll probably get a puzzled look. “You mean CrossFit?” they’ll ask. Not quite.
Kettlebell Sport isn’t about random repetitions or short bursts. It’s a symphony of efficiency, every grip, lockout, and breath measured to conserve energy and maximise output. Gyms display kettlebells as just equipment, unaware that in other parts of the world, athletes are setting records with those same tools. It’s like owning a Stradivarius violin and using it as a paperweight. In India, kettlebell sport is still finding its footing. Small communities are rising, people training in garages, rooftops, and parks, guided more by passion than infrastructure. This year, under the aegis of IUKL and KSIA, four Indian athletes received partial sponsorships to compete at the World Cup stage in St Petersburg, Russia. That might not make national news, but for those of us inside the sport, it’s monumental. It’s proof that even without the glamour of mainstream sports, the spirit of competition and the hunger to represent the tricolour burns strong. Every Indian lifter who steps on an international platform carries more than just kettlebells. They carry the weight of every athlete training unseen, unheard, unfunded, and they lift anyway.
Will kettlebell sport ever reach the Olympics? Maybe not soon. But every great sporting movement starts the same way — with a handful of believers who refuse to quit. Kettlebell Sport is unique because it fuses strength and serenity. Ten minutes on the platform isn’t a display of aggression; it’s meditation through movement. You have to be calm under pain, composed under pressure.
And that’s where women, especially, shine. Their grace, discipline, and ability to endure redefine what strength means. They’re not just breaking records, they’re rewriting expectations. The dream isn’t just about medals or rankings. It’s about exposure.
If kettlebell training found its way into schools, it could change the way we approach fitness entirely. It doesn’t care about your background, body type, or gender. The bell rewards discipline. It humbles ego. And that’s exactly why it deserves a place in the mainstream.
Kettlebell sport may never be glamorous. It doesn’t need to be. It’s a sport for the persistent, for those who don’t lift for applause but for purpose. As someone who has stood on the world stage, felt the iron bite into my palms, and the silence between each rep, I can say this: the sport gives back far more than it takes. It forges you, physically, mentally, spiritually. So the next time you see a kettlebell in the corner of your gym, don’t walk past it. Pick it up. Feel the weight, the history, the challenge it carries. Because in that moment, you’re part of something bigger, something that’s still writing its story, one rep at a time. The kettlebell doesn’t ask for applause. It asks for respect. And every woman who lifts one earns it!
The writer is: IUKL Kettlebell World Champion (Women Amateur Adult Biathlon)
