***Disclaimer: If you are not familiar with weightlifting, you may not understand some of the lingo in this post. Keep reading anyway!
Ugh. Where do I begin?
SO MANY THOUGHTS and EMOTIONS.
Proud, disappointed, focused, upset, happy, bitter, grateful, hopeful, humble, frustrated, excited, and so on.
First things first: I WON FIRST PLACE!! OK, so that was awesome. But my intentions were not necessarily to place first – but to increase my meet total by 10kg.
It’s been nearly a year since my last weightlifting meet. In the last year, I have put in SO much hard work. I post a lot of my training on social media, but that isn’t even a microscopic fraction of the countless hours of training I put in each week. I’ve also worked tirelessly on my mindset. That’s a struggle in itself.
In training, I started putting up some bigger numbers. My lifts each increased by 10-15 lbs. Naturally, I was so excited to take the stage on Saturday and show everyone all the hard work I’ve been putting in. I was even more excited to be competing in a higher weight class. This meant I didn’t need to starve myself or dehydrate myself to make weigh in. In my mind, that meant that I could fuel my body properly leading up to the day of the meet and be even more prepared to lift some heavy shit.
The morning of the meet felt great. I woke up rested and ready. I was in a really good headspace. I felt strong and prepared to lift some heavy weights.
However…
During warm up, things felt off. I had feared this simply because the week leading up to the competition, every lift had felt wrong. My motor skills just felt out of whack and my muscle memory wasn’t doing its job. I didn’t worry too much about it though. I just kept telling myself “don’t think about it, just lift the fucking bar.” I kept telling myself that adrenaline would take the place of my lacking motor skills.
Wronggggg.
Snatch 1: Made the lift, but judges called it a “no lift” (I still want a rebuttal)
Snatch 2: We increased weight – I pulled the bar so hard, I threw it behind me. No lift.
Snatch 3: I knew if I didn’t make this lift, that the rest of the competition didn’t matter. I needed to land this lift to get a total in my new weight class. I certainly felt the pressure as I walked out on the platform. I walked up to the bar and thought to myself “Dad, please help me. Please let me make this lift.” (Yes, I was talking to my deceased father.) Sure enough, I landed it. If you watch the video on my Instagram, you can see where I smile as soon as I stood up. In that moment, I nearly cried. Because (whether you’re spiritual, superstitious, whatever) I knew that my Dad was there with me in that moment.
I had the heaviest snatch in my session. However, that was only half the battle. I still had clean and jerks to do.
The girl sitting next to me on the bench hadn’t made weight. She was in the weight class above me. But I didn’t know that at the time. So to me – she was my competition, she was the person I needed to beat. She and I had close numbers on our lifts. I heard her coach talking to her about how he’d seen me warming up and that I wasn’t strong in the front rack position. He told her that I wouldn’t be able to stand up the bar and that she could out lift me. He’s not wrong – at least in regards to my front rack position.
Squat cleans are my weakness. I constantly joke that if I could only clean what I could jerk, I’d be unstoppable. For reference, my jerk is 30lbs heavier than my clean. Yes, I’m top heavy – ha!
Anyway, as soon as I heard him say that, I thought “this f*****, watch me.” I knew what I had to do. So I went out and landed that shit. She followed my lift with the same weight on the bar. Miss. That was her final lift.
I still had two lifts and I was the final lifter. I knew I had won, but I wasn’t done yet. I came here with a goal. And I wanted to reach it.
I missed both lifts.
Damnit.
I was pissed.
I even prayed to my Dad again hoping he’d help me out…apparently, he was trying to teach me humility. Even after his death, he’s still out here trying to teach me life lessons.
I didn’t hit anywhere near the numbers I wanted. I hit way below my training 1rms on each lift. In fact, my meet total only increased by 1kg. I was proud, but highly disappointed. The purpose of going up a weight class was so that I could hit bigger numbers. I started blaming all sorts of different things. But when it comes down to it, it just wasn’t meant to be. We all have off-days. You just gotta roll with it and make the best of it.
I also keep reminding myself that I’m not an Olympian or on Team USA or anywhere near the caliber of the athletes I idolize. I’m just a serious enthusiast. Just trying to prove to myself each and every day that I am better than the person I was yesterday.
This meet was a good eye-opening experience. It reminded me that things can go wrong, no matter how prepared you are. It also relit that fire in me. I’m a competitor at heart, even on a small scale level. So now it’s time to get back after it – full speed ahead!
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