There is no magic fairy dust on the platform. I said this to one of the younger lifters in my gym. It took me 9 meets and one dead arm to figure this out, but there is no magic fairy dust on the platform.
In December I competed with an arm that quit working and it changed the way I viewed meet preparation and execution. In training, before I go into the gym I know what lies ahead of me. I know what lifts I have to do and I know what numbers I have to hit. I know how I feel that day and I know if it's going to be easy, hard, or somewhere in the middle. I make calculations in my head about how I'm going to get to working sets, I go through the entire session in my head and make plans; if this, then that, if not that, then this. I do this all before I even step foot in the gym. There is no pressure from myself to hit certain numbers or reps, there is only a well thought out plan and execution of the plan. I am a hell of a gym lifter.
Pre-dead arm, come meet day, after a hell of a training cycle, after all the calculations, after all the execution, I let all that out the window because there is magic fairy dust on the platform. On the platform, it's easy. I don't have to think. I don't have to calculate. I don't have to evaluate. Make the calls to get to the end number that I decided on months ago. Ignore everything else because there is magic fairy dust on the platform.
In December, my bench press went away and so did all of my magic fairy dust. I went to the meet in December with a one track mind. Come hell or high water, I was taking a squat record. Nothing else mattered. I knew I had it, there was no pressure, there was only execution. That dead arm changed my mind set on the platform. It changed my approach. It forced me to trust the process.
I say it all the time to new lifters, 'trust the process', turns out, I had no idea what I was talking about. I didn't trust the process. I just trained and got to a meet and said fuck the process, throw the weight on the bar and watch me........fail. I thought something magic happened on meet day and all I had to do was step onto the platform and everything would fall into place. There is no magic fairy dust on the platform.
After December I took a few weeks off and still trained but nothing serious. Next meet was to be in April and back to the raw with wraps division. My training cycle started slow. Eventually, the momentum picks up. I'm back in the thick of a training cycle and back to being a hell of a gym lifter. As with every training cycle, when the momentum picks up, my mind starts racing, it starts racing all the way to third attempts and totals and world records and magic fairy dust. But I'm changed. I'm different lifter. I trust the process. The process is day to day, one lift at a time, you can't rush the process, you can't force it, you can't predict it. You can only plan it, adjust, and execute.
Talking with Wade, talking about numbers and attempts and all the things. I said to him, I've just got to be able to put it all together. He said no. He said, all you have to do reveal what's already there. It's there, you know it's there, you've done it, all you have to do is reveal it. It clicked. I decide to give myself some credit and stop questioning what I may or may not be capable of. I know how to plan my work and work my plan. I'm fucking awesome at that but for some reason, come meet day, I forget. Not this time. THIS TIME I will trust the process. THIS TIME I will pay attention to warm ups, THIS TIME I will adjust, THIS TIME I will execute, THIS TIME I will reveal what is already there.
Squat. I'm nervous. I've been nervous all morning. There's all these people here who I've only ever "met" on the internet. I don't know how to act. Ignore everything. Solid plan. My training partner and best friend Annie is in the first flight. Her first two attempts are good. Third attempt is called. She seems nervous. She seems unsure. I'm nervous. I'm unsure. I don't remember what I said to her, or if I even said anything at all. I remember wanting this lift for her so badly, selfishly, because if she got that lift, it somehow was going to set me up to have a good day. She goes up to the bar, squats, depth is plenty, sticks at the sticking point, grinds and grinds and stands up with the bar. I want to cry, but force myself to get it together. The tone has been set. It's going to be a good day.
Squat warm ups go ok. Feeling better than expected but not as solid as I would have liked. Roll with it. First attempt, 385lbs, good, not as fast as I wanted. The squat is my lift. My strategy going into the meet was to go for it in the squat and then stack up as many attempts as possible with bench and deadlift. Second attempt is 420lbs. It's a somewhat risky call but I know I have it, it's going to tell me what to do for the third. 420lbs is good for a 2nd attempt. A little slow, a little sticky. Some debate with my coach and handler about what to call for the 3rd. We decide on 435lbs. I knew it was going to be a stretch. BUT that was plan all along. I was going for it. I miss. I'm ok with it. It was a solid call and solid attempt. On with the plan. I suppose I should mention that the 420lb squat breaks the all the world record at 123lbs. I'm happy about this, yes, but I've got shit to do.
Bench warm ups are feeling solid. Bench is weird at meets. It just is. Maybe I'll figure it out one day. Opener is 195lbs. Fuck you dead arm. Moves fast and easy. 210lbs for a second. Still easy. Bar speed slows just a tad. Speed is my secret weapon. When my bar speed slows, it's an indicator of the end. I talk with my coach and handler and say 220lb will be a stretch, 215lbs is a sure bet. I say fuck it, I'm going 215. Stack up the wins. Stack up the attempts. Stack up the total. 215 is slow and ugly and good. 3 for 3 on bench, trusted the process and trusted myself.
Deadlift. My least favorite lift. Though, it is fun on the platform. People are loopy and tired from the long day. It's just the right mix of silliness, intensity, the downward slide to finish line. Warm ups feel good. REALLY good. Holy shit, I think Aaron Thomas freaking nailed the taper on my deadlift. Scratch that, I know he did. Cautiously enthusiastic. 380lb opener. Butter. 410lb second attempt. Butter. I feel my lower back round ever so slightly. An indicator. Hastily talking with my training partners, coaches, husband, and they say go for it. So I did. I called 420lbs. They meant go for it more. Kinda funny. It was conservative. But I had a plan. I worked the plan. 420lb was solid attempt. I'd give myself maybe five more pounds for sure, ten would be a question. 3 for 3 on deadlift. 8/9 for the day.
I feel proud of myself. Really really proud of me. It's humbling. I trusted the process. I trusted myself. I allowed myself to be great. I revealed what was already there. I ended with a 1,055 pound total. That's one hundred and ten freakin pounds on my best total.
I won best overall raw lifter. I beat a woman that I thought had magic fairy dust. The best part is that I had no idea. I had no idea how close I was to winning. I didn't care. I only wanted to do what I knew was there. There is no magic fairy dust on the platform. I won with .021 points.
#poweryourown
No comments:
Post a Comment