Are Weightlifting Shoes with a Raised Heel Worth It? Let’s Get Under the Bar and Find Out.

Yes, and that shift can be a double-edged barbell. By elevating the heel, you’re mechanically biasing knee-dominant movement, especially in the squat. Over time, the quads get more direct stimulation, while glute and hamstring involvement may slightly reduce—unless you’re intentionally loading posterior chain work elsewhere. Eugene Thong, CSCS, notes, “If a lifter’s programming doesn’t account for posterior chain balance, they may eventually feel the absence in their deadlift lockout or sprinting mechanics.” So yes, these shoes can reshape how your body solves strength problems—and if you’re not careful, they can also subtly train weaknesses.

Most don’t think about the neural side of their feet. But when you go from barefoot or minimalist kicks to a stable, TPU-raised platform, your brain gets less feedback from the floor. Charles Damiano, B.S. in Clinical Nutrition and longtime lifting coach, says, “The foot’s small stabilizers can become under-stimulated in overly supportive gear.” While this doesn’t matter during heavy squats, it might explain why your agility feels off when chasing your kid across wet grass or jumping for a rebound on asphalt.

There is—though most guys don’t measure it, and few coaches teach to it. If your natural dorsiflexion is limited—say, below 30 degrees—the raised heel in shoes like the COREs helps by compensating for that range. But if you’re already mobile and pushing past 40–45 degrees, the extra heel height may make your knees track so far forward that it shifts force vectors inefficiently. In short, there’s a sweet spot for each body. Just because they help your gym bro squat deeper doesn’t mean they’re optimized for you.

Absolutely—and not just in the obvious “heels = wrong angle” way. The real issue is often about internal torque generation. With a raised heel, some lifters find their ability to “spread the floor” or screw the feet into the ground—especially in sumo stances—gets reduced. This is because elevated heels subtly alter pelvic tilt, and that shift ripples up the chain. As Charles Damiano puts it, “You’re trying to produce max vertical force from a position not built for it. It’s like sprinting in ski boots.”

The body doesn’t just feel different—it learns differently. Making the switch mid-mesocycle can cause CNS confusion. Your bar path changes, depth cues shift, joint stacking alters. And the brain, which had locked in patterns over the previous four weeks, now has to re-map those under load. Some lifters feel awkward or weaker—not because they are—but because their nervous system hasn’t yet re-synced to the new hardware. If you’re switching, best to deload or re-test lighter weights to re-groove the movement.

It’s subtle—but real. The heel lift changes pelvic positioning, which in turn can alter how the diaphragm engages during valsalva bracing. A more upright torso (common in Olympic-style squats) lets the diaphragm descend more efficiently—but only if the ribcage is stacked correctly. If not, lifters end up with high-chest breathing under load, which weakens intra-abdominal pressure. As Eugene Thong explains, “It’s not just about depth. A slight shift in breathing pattern can be the difference between a solid brace and a back tweak at 90% of 1RM.”