In a field outside Waterford, David Keohan hefts a granite boulder that would challenge a forklift. This isn’t CrossFit or modern strongman competition. This is something far older, a tradition that once marked Irish men as warriors and heroes. Keohan, known affectionately as “Indiana Stones,” is almost single-handedly dragging stone lifting back from the grave.

Stone lifting was once as Irish as hurling or storytelling. From the Ring of Kerry to the hills of Donegal, communities had their testing stones, massive rocks that separated the strong from the truly formidable. Young men would attempt these stones as rites of passage. The successful lift meant respect, marriage prospects, and local legend status.

The Ancient Art of Proving Yourself

These weren’t gymnasium weights with convenient handles. Irish lifting stones were raw, unforgiving chunks of granite, limestone, and basalt, shaped by millennia of weather. The Inver Stone in Donegal weighs 104 kilograms. The Fingal Stone reaches 185 kilograms. Some, like the legendary Husafell Stone in Iceland that Irish emigrants helped make famous, tip the scales at nearly 200 kilograms.

The technique required wasn’t just brute strength. These stones demanded a wrestler’s grip, a dancer’s balance, and a philosopher’s patience. Men would spend months conditioning their hands, learning the stone’s temperament, finding that perfect grip point where physics and determination aligned.

When Tradition Nearly Died

By the mid-20th century, stone lifting had virtually vanished. Modern sports offered standardised competition and clear progression. Who needed to wrestle with an awkward boulder when you could bench press in climate-controlled comfort? The old stones sat forgotten in fields, their stories fading with each generation that couldn’t be bothered lifting them.

Keohan discovered this dying art through strongman competition, but something about the stones captured him completely. Perhaps it was their connection to the landscape, or the way they linked him directly to ancestors who’d tested themselves against the same implacable granite. Whatever the reason, he became obsessed.

Building a Modern Stone Age

Today, Keohan travels Ireland seeking out historical stones, documenting their weights, their stories, their exact lifting requirements. He organises competitions, teaches technique, and manufactures replica stones for those who can’t travel to the originals. His social media feeds show him conquering stones across the country, but also encouraging others to try.

This isn’t nostalgic theatre. Stone lifting develops functional strength that translates to every physical task. It teaches mental resilience, the ability to fail repeatedly until success arrives. Most importantly, it connects modern Irish people to their physical heritage, to a time when strength wasn’t just personal achievement but community necessity.

Keohan’s mission faces obvious challenges. Stone lifting will never fill Croke Park or attract television contracts. But perhaps that’s precisely why it matters. In an age of virtual everything, here’s a pursuit that’s brutally, magnificently real. No apps, no algorithms, just you, gravity, and several tons of Irish stone waiting to see what you’re truly made of.