A Berwick politician carried years of grief. Then she started lifting 700-pound stones.

BERWICK, Pa. — Heavy things flattened the grass in Teresa Troiani’s backyard: boulders, stones, and a concrete ball that weighed 160 pounds.

Troiani, a nurse and councilwoman in this Columbia County town, crouched low, felt for the best grip, and lifted them one by one on an early September afternoon to demonstrate her power. She carried some of the giant rocks around her yard, and hoisted others onto her shoulder, before dropping them onto the lawn with a soft thud.

Old bruises were fading on her legs. Fresh pink scrapes etched her forearms. She had a bloody finger, too.

“Comes with the territory,” she said, catching her breath.

Troiani carried heavier things long before she became one of Pennsylvania’s strongest women, before she flew to Scotland, Iceland, and Norway to test her mettle. In 2004, she witnessed a dear friend, Brendan “Pat” Deeley, get punched in the head during a confrontation at a Berwick home. She performed CPR until he was taken to the hospital, where he died. The death inspired her to become a nurse.

Troiani says she struggled with her weight for years after Deeley’s death. She was also in an abusive relationship.

“I went through a really traumatic thing, and I didn’t know what to do with it,” she said.

After her father, Paul, died from cancer in 2019, Troiani joined a gym and hired a trainer. She was so nervous to go inside, she often waited for her trainer to walk in with her. Troiani grew stronger, and some confidence followed. When her trainer first recommended a powerlifting competition, Troiani balked.

“I saw the outfits and thought, ‘I am not wearing a spandex singlet in front of other people,’ so I found a strongman competition,” she said.

Troiani entered the “Pennsylvania’s Strongest” competition in 2020 and practiced flipping enormous tires at home to prepare. She took second place.

Some of her accomplishments since then include pulling a 15-ton truck for 50 yards and pushing a human-powered grist mill like Conan the Barbarian. She’s held onto heavy things, tossed them over her head, and even cleared fallen trees from the road, without a chainsaw.

“I think that strength sports has done more for my mind than it’s done for my body,” Troiani said in an interview with a German documentary crew. “It’s helped me do hard things in my life, you know.”

Fast-forward a few years, and Troiani found herself standing by an early 19th-century bridge in rural Scotland wearing a sports bra and kilt. Troiani traveled to the little hamlet of Potarch in early August to tackle the Dinnie Stones, two massive pieces of granite with metal rings attached for lifting. The stones together weigh 733 pounds, a little less than a male grizzly bear, and they’ve been a test of strength for locals since the 1860s.

Fewer than two dozen women have lifted the Dinnie Stones since official competitions began in 2016. One of them was Troiani’s coach, Sandra Bradley, of Germany, whom she found online.

Lifting the stones requires awkward positioning, with one hand almost behind the back, the other in front. It’s difficult to simulate in the gym, though at least one company has created a piece of equipment to replicate the lift.

“It’s a wee bit awkward,” said Belfast strongman Stevie Shanks, who has lifted the Dinnie Stones a whopping nine times.

While training for Scotland, Troiani injured her back. A month before the competition, she had some doubts: her personal best Dinnie-style lift was 610 pounds.

Troiani visited Norway before Scotland to watch competitions and hang out with friends. During a training session there, Bradley slipped some extra weight on, and Troiani unwittingly surpassed her personal best and lifted 672 pounds.

“I didn’t really do the math, you know,” she said.

Bradley, who lives in Nuremberg, had little doubt Troiani was ready for the Dinnie Stones after that.

“What I’ve seen is that she’s way more self-confident and trusts herself now,“ Bradley said from Germany. ”She sees her potential. She can do hard things and overcome a lot more than she thought.”

In 2017, Troiani was encouraged to run for the Berwick council to bring a younger perspective.

Troiani said her identity isn’t “wrapped up” in being on the council, but she’s proud to connect citizens with resources they need.

“I just wanted to make a difference in the community I lived in and felt like the decisions being made were from an antiquated mindset,” she said of her decision.

A Democrat who is now in her third term, Troiani missed a council meeting for the Scotland trip. But council president Jeri Wozniak said the town was proud to excuse her absence.

“Teresa is the epitome of our town,” Wozniak said. “We live in a blue-collar, working-class town where we’re not afraid to roll up our sleeves, and Teresa could carry the town on her back.”

On that August afternoon by the River Dee in Scotland, Troiani grabbed the rings of the 733-pound stones.

The crowd grew raucous, pumping her up.

“Believe it,” one man screamed in a thick brogue.

Seconds later, Troiani pulled hard. A sliver of daylight appeared between the earth and stones.

“Yes,” the crowd cheered.

Troiani dropped the stones, almost in disbelief.

“I did it!” she yelled, raising her arms.

In September, Troiani placed second in a stone-lifting competition in Virginia. That victory qualified her for the world’s strongest stone lifter event in Norway. That competition will cover hotel and partial airfare, which is nice, she said, considering she’s only won about $400.

Troiani isn’t out for trophies or prizes, though, and doesn’t have big aspirations for politics. She is looking for bigger boulders, though, including the legendary “Húsafell Stone,” a coffin-shaped rock that weighs 410 pounds and sits on a farm in Iceland.

“There’s a short list of women who’ve lifted it, and it has so much history. There’s so much history and culture in this sport, and now, I’m a part of it.”

And that’s been the most rewarding part of heavy lifting for Troiani, even if it comes with some bruises.

“I think I just needed community, and I found it with stone lifting,” she said. “That’s something we’re missing as adults, and I found it.”