Arman Simonyan Armwristeling life. 

The apartment in Yerevan’s 2nd District wasn’t anything special. But something about growing up there shaped the man Arman would become. When he talks about where he’s from, it’s not with nostalgia it’s with the kind of matter-of-fact acknowledgment that your beginnings matter, even if they’re ordinary.

He started training at twelve years old. By thirteen, while his friends were figuring out what they wanted to do with their lives, he knew exactly where he was headed. Now thirty years old with eighteen years competing at serious levels, he sits down and talks about it all without any of the usual champion bullshit.

“Sport is my life,” he says. And he means it literally. Not like some motivational poster he actually means it. “For me, it is not merely a pastime, it is life itself. I have poured my life into this path and continue to do so. If an athlete views sport merely as a hobby, then they are not a true athlete.”

There’s no trying to make it sound inspirational. That’s just how he thinks about it. You either commit to something fully or you don’t commit at all. Anything in between is just wasting time.

The introduction to arm wrestling came at thirteen. Something clicked. What could’ve stayed as just another thing he did became the thing. The only thing that mattered.

“I trained from the age of twelve, and at thirteen, I began pursuing arm-wrestling professionally,” he explains, like he’s just stating facts. Because he is.

But here’s the thing people don’t understand about early dedication, it’s not some magical talent that makes you fall in love with something. It’s the opposite. You choose something, you stick with it, and over time it becomes you. Arman didn’t fall into arm wrestling. He picked it at thirteen and never put it down.

That decision, made at thirteen years old, has defined everything that came after. Eighteen years of competitive arm wrestling. Eighteen years of waking up and choosing to be a champion instead of choosing comfort.

When people ask about his biggest influence, Arman gives a straight answer:  Vladimir Mnatsakanyan a guy who’s won world championships multiple times. Not some Instagram influencer or celebrity coach. A real champion who knows what winning actually costs.

Having Vladimir as his trainer meant Arman didn’t have to figure everything out from scratch. He could learn from someone who’d already been to the top and knew what the path looked like. That’s invaluable. 

But at the same time Arman states: “I am my own motivator. Neither my coach nor anyone else motivates me. I motivate myself,” he says. And this isn’t him being ungrateful or dismissing his mentor. It’s him understanding something real about how championship-level athletics actually works. Your coach can teach you technique. He can show you the way. But he can’t want it for you. He can’t make you get out of bed when you’re tired. He can’t make you train when nobody’s watching.

That part has to come from inside you, or it doesn’t come at all.

Before any competition, Arman does something that sounds simple but most people skip: he studies his opponent. Not like he watches some highlight reel. He seriously studies them. Their technique. How they move. Where their weaknesses might be.

Then he trains with everything he’s got. And when he talks about training, he’s specific about what actually matters.

“I prepare through rigorous training focusing on technique, muscular development, and a disciplined approach all of which are absolutely essential,” he says. Those three things get repeated because they’re the foundation. Not one of those things is optional.

The week before a major championship isn’t glamorous. It’s the same work he does every week, just sharper. More focused. The routine is locked in. The discipline is automatic after eighteen years of doing it.

“Every ounce of effort and struggle I endure serves to drive me even closer to victory,” he explains. This sounds like something someone would put on a poster, but when Arman says it, it’s just how he actually thinks. The pain, the exhaustion, the repetition all of it is fuel for something he wants more than he wants comfort.

There’s this thing in fitness and sports where people talk about “natural talent” like it’s the missing ingredient. Like some people are just born to be champions and everyone else might as well give up. Arman destroys this idea completely.

“If a person currently lacks physical strength, that does not mean they cannot acquire it,” he says with the confidence of someone who’s been in this long enough to know what’s true. “You must work hard, push through the pain, focus on developing your muscles, set a goal, and keep moving forward.”

He’s seen plenty of talented people fail. He’s also seen people with no obvious gifts become strong through years of consistent work. That’s what he’s learned matters.

“If a person underestimates their own potential, they will never be able to find their place whether in sports or in life outside of sports. I have been training consistently since becoming committed to this path, and I have never given up.”

This isn’t him bragging. It’s him pointing out a fact. Eighteen years of consistency. That’s not genius. That’s just showing up and doing the work when it would be easier not to.

Nutrition is where a lot of young athletes make mistakes. They think they can train hard and eat unhealthy food and it’ll somehow work out. Arman knows better.

“The right diet provides the energy needed for training; it supports bone growth and overall physical development,” he explains. “Water and proper food intake are mandatory; if you do not nourish your body correctly, you become highly susceptible to frequent injuries.”

He’s meticulous about this because his body has taught him what happens when you’re not. Despite a career in a demanding sport, Arman has not suffered any major injuries. That’s not luck. That’s what happens when someone actually respects their body enough to fuel it properly and listen to it when something’s wrong.

The recovery piece matters too. People want to talk about the exciting parts the competition, the victory but the boring parts are what separate champions from everyone else. The sleep. The food. The water. The stretching. The days you train lighter to let your body recover.

Arman treats these like they’re as important as the heavy lifting, because they are.

When Arman won the Armenian Championship, it wasn’t just about getting a medal to put on a shelf. It meant something deeper.

“I value every victory as the fruit of my hard work and sacrifice,” he says. “For an athlete, it does not matter  which specific competition they have won; what matters is that their victories always serve as a driving force, propelling them forward.”

This is how someone at his level thinks. Each win proves the system works. Each victory becomes evidence that if he keeps pushing, keeps training, keeps studying, he can win the next one too. It’s fuel for the next climb.

“Achieving these victories gives me immense motivation and inspires me to work even harder on strengthening my abilities.”

So winning doesn’t make you relax. It makes you hungry to prove you can do it again. And again. That’s the difference between someone who wins once and someone who becomes a champion.

The Armenian Championship means something to Arman personally; it’s validation of everything he’s sacrificed. But it also means something bigger. It proves that arm wrestling matters in Armenia. It shows young people that this sport is real, that champions come from here, that it’s possible to reach the top level.

Most people think arm wrestling is just about being strong. Like you’re either naturally strong or you’re not, and that determines everything. Arman gets tired of this idea.

The real sport requires technique, muscular development, and strategy . You have to study your opponent like a chess player. You have to understand leverage and angles and how to use your body efficiently. You have to know when to push and when to wait.

“It’s not just about being strong,” he says. “People don’t understand that arm wrestling requires the same level of technical mastery and strategic thinking as any other sport.”

The biggest misconception is that some people are just born with the genetics for it. That’s bullshit. Yes, genetics matter. Genetics matter in every sport. But they’re not destiny. What matters more is what you do with what you have.

“If a person currently lacks physical strength, that does not mean they cannot acquire it. You must work hard, push through the pain, focus on developing your muscles, set a goal, and keep moving forward.”

This is the real secret: there’s no secret. You train. You study. You push yourself. You recover. You do it again. For years. And then one day you win a championship.

Winning the Armenian Championship isn’t the end for Arman. It’s a checkpoint. His eyes are already on bigger competitions.

“An athlete always has a goal. Always trying to achieve higher goals,” he says simply.

Right now, his sights are set on world-level competition. The Armenian championship proved he’s one of the best in his country. Now he’s working to prove he belongs on the world stage. This is how his mind works, each victory becomes the starting point for the next challenge.

He’s very disciplined and hard-working, and he wants to reach the highest level of competition. That’s not some vague aspiration. That’s the actual goal he’s training toward every single day.

When you ask Arman what he’d tell young people interested in arm wrestling or really interested in anything difficult his answer is direct.

“If you put a goal to enter the sport and if you get scared and think you can’t—

 that’s not the right way of going about it,” he says. “We weren’t born into sports. Instead, we worked hard and with disciplined ways achieved our goals. Fears are just the enemy of victory.”

He’s not saying there’s some secret. He’s saying the people who win aren’t special. They just work harder and they’re not scared of how hard the work is going to be.

“If you underestimate your own potential, you won’t find your place,” he adds. “But if you actually commit and put in the time, you can become strong. You can become good. You can win.”

This applies to anything, really. Whether it’s arm wrestling or anything else. You either decide to commit fully or you don’t. There’s no middle ground that works.

The kid from Yerevan’s 2nd District didn’t become a champion because he was special. He became a champion because he started training at twelve and never stopped. Eighteen years of consistent work. That’s the story. That’s the whole thing.

No magic. No shortcuts. Just someone who decided early on that this was what he wanted, and then actually lived like he meant it. Started at 12, turned professional at 13, and kept going when it would’ve been easier to quit.

That’s what Arman represents. Not some impossible standard that only the super strong  can reach. Just the reality of what happens when someone commits to something and actually sees it through.