MY NAME IS JENNIFER MILLICAN AND I AM A CHAMPION.
These words play over and over in my head.
The truth is though, I was born a champion. I was meant to be one, built to be one, destined to be a champion.
There are times in life when you'll come up with an idea, a goal, a change, a challenge. When you tell people about this, what happens? I don't know what happened in your life, but in mine, I was met with SUPPORT, I was met with a big fat "HELL YEAH", a high five, a "let's get after it". You see, growing up, my family showed up. They were at every practice, every game, every play, every everything. It didn't matter what is was, my family, (read: my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins), literally showed up to everything from final games to being in a local parade in a high school sorority. I've taken this for granted for most of my life.
The older I got, the more I realized that this was often not the case. The more my circle expanded the more I realized that it's not so often that you are met with a "hell yeah". I began to realize that more often than not you are met with a problem for every solution. You are met with questioning, naysayers, haterzzzzzzzz if you will.
The first time this phenomenon became apparent to me was when I decided I wanted to have a child birth without pain relievers. HOLY SHIT. People really don't want you to do that. And they will tell you. They will tell you that you will literally die. It is absolutely nuts to me how much people care about other people's level of pain during child birth. BUT WHY? I'm still not sure. Lucky for me though, I was born a champion. I was also born with a mother who showed up. My Mother never questioned me. She supported me. She stoked my fire. When everyone I talked to had some war story to tell me, my mother brought me back. I could call my mother and dump all my stresses and doubts on her and she would reassure me. She would remind of all the reasons I wanted to go this route. She would flood me with support even when I began to question my own choices. She was the gasoline.
After my first child (born in a hospital without pain meds), I had my second at home (gasp). The second time around though I talked a lot less about my "birth plan", which made things infinitely easier. Nonetheless, still met with some opposition. But it mattered slightly less this time. I had people. I had gasoline.
One of those people is my husband. My freakin husband, the biggest can of gasoline I've met. I met this guy nearly 10 years ago. In those 10 years I have come up with some crazy ideas. He's yet to shoot down a single one. When I come up something, he jumps right in. Have we failed? Absolutely. Does it matter? No.
Because this blog is for the most part powerlifting related, I'll use that as the main example, but believe me, you can paste this into every life situation you run into. I have had some success in this sport. What you see is the success, the fire. What you don't see is the day to day.
I get up four days a week in the wee hours of the morning and train. I get up, get a cup of coffee, make a meal, get my equipment and supplements together and head out the door. I drive about 20 minutes and pull into a gravel driveway. I walk into a well equipped gym and people are already there warming up, some even nearing the end of their session.
I start warming up, some chatter with other lifters about what's on the agenda for the day then get to it. Weights are loaded and unloaded, cues, critiques on form, spotting, wrapping knees, discussion on what to do next, etc, etc. That's it. But why?
Because somewhere in my mind a while ago, I believed I could be great at this. Something inside told me that I have it in me to be the best. I have it in me to top the charts. I have it in me to be a champion. That's not enough though. At some point, you will feel like you suck and you will question why you're doing what you're doing, your fire will begin to die. Enter: Gasoline
When I wake up in the morning, my coffee is already made, waiting for me. It's waiting because my husband makes it and sets the timer for me every night. Gasoline.
When I make a meal, it's already prepared and decided on because someone writes my nutrition. It's already prepared because often times my husband helps me prepare all my food one day a week. Gasoline.
When I walk out the door I leave my two babies behind to get fed, clothed and transported to school by my husband. Gasoline.
When I walk in the gym and my team helps load my weight, they watch my form, remind who I am and how I lift. When they tell me when I'm getting in my own way. The cues, the music, the chalk, the equipment, the videos, the slaps, the confidence, the belief. Gasoline.
When I leave the gym and come home and tell my husband what when on and he listens. Gasoline.
When I text and message coaches and friends about my lifting and how to make it better. Gasoline.
When I travel for meets and need help with my children and my Mom, Grandma, Sister, Aunts, In-laws step in and pick up and drop off from school, make lunches, send me pictures of them, care for them and love them as I do. Gasoline.
When people comment, like, share, send me a message and tell me that something I have done has positively impacted them. Gasoline.
BE THE GASOLINE.
There are times in life when you are the fire and there are times when you need to tend the fire. Never underestimate the power of either of these roles.
My son, who is five, has a business. It's simple. It's in our laundry room and his office is in the dryer. His only goal is to get money. He has an employee, his older sister. It's hilarious and easy to laugh off. But I don't! I take that shit seriously, because I want to be his gasoline. I don't ever want to put out his fire with my worry, lack of confidence, or simply because it's not what I expected. I want to champion his efforts. I want him to come to me for belief, for support, for gasoline.
If you have enough gasoline, your fire gets big, and then it spreads, and that's what we're after!
Don't ever put out someone's fire. EVER. Even if you don't necessarily believe it's going to work. Even if they fail, they still made progress. They will remember too. They will remember if you helped keep the fire alive or if you smothered it. The goal should never be to just NOT fail or to only to be wildly successful. The goal is get a little bit better, the goal is to expand the comfort zone, the goal is growth.
The tendency to question, to naysay, to hate is an epidemic. I challenge you to become aware of yourself when talking with friends or family and consciously be the gasoline. Sometimes it's just a little poke, a little stoke, one tiny spark that a fire needs and suddenly it's ablaze.
cham·pi·onˈCHampēən/
noun1.
a person who has defeated or surpassed all rivals in a competition, especially in sports.
"a champion hurdler"2.
synonyms: winner, titleholder, defending champion, gold medalist, titlist, record holder; More
a person who fights or argues for a cause or on behalf of someone else.
"a champion of women's rights"
synonyms: advocate, proponent, promoter, supporter, defender, upholder, backer, exponent;
My name is Jennifer Millican and I am champion.
I was born that way though. I was born into a circle of champions, I was built to be one, destined to be one because I don't know any other way.
Gasoline
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