2016 Raw Nationals and Your Bullshit Perceived Limitations

2016 Raw Nationals. The recap. This is it.

My training cycle was on fire. I was making lifts that I never imagined I would be making. Like when I hit two freakin plates on bench. I remember when all I wanted was one plate. I was squatting 350 for reps. FOR REPS! It's no secret that I'm a confident lifter, but I was even surprising myself.

Sometime after being on fire, maybe 8-10 weeks out, I started feeling burnt out. I was sick of getting up early, I was sick of rushing, I was sick of my stupid shoulders, I was sick of not seeing my kids, just burnt out. And I was really sick of being in the 57kg weight class! I was burnt out on all the things but I still wanted it. I still wanted to take Nationals. So I trudged forward.

These feelings took a hit on my confidence. I've pretty much always made all my own attempt calls. Some consulting here and there but I've been the one going to table for the most part. I take a lot of pride in that. I was struggling to come up with a plan. I would write down numbers and think, "there's no way". My training was telling me one thing and my brain was telling me a different thing. Perceived limitations.

They announce primetime lifters. I knew I would be on the roster, I didn't know who else would be. After it's announced, I start doing my research. I signed up to do Nationals for one reason, win. So you bet your ass I knew my competition. I was about 80% sure I could take the 57kg weight class. Unless Kelly Lin was sandbagging even slightly, I knew I had it. Then I start looking at Wilks, just in case. I wanted best lifter, but I was pretty sure I didn't have a shot. I look at the numbers. Weird. If I had a pretty good day, I had a shot. I would have to be on point with attempt calls, but I had a shot. While I didn't want to come out and say I wanted best lifter or that I wanted to go after it, I freakin wanted it, bad, and I don't really care who knows it.

If you've read any of my other posts or spent any time with me at all, you know I'm a competitor. I play to win. ALL. THE. TIME. When I first started powerlifting I was desperate for competition. I was looking at all the records and was thirsty to compete with the best. When I would see the records and numbers, I knew I was capable. I knew it existed within me, it was only a matter of stomping my perceived limitations into the ground. Easy to type. Really, really, really hard to do.

Every time I started to doubt myself, every time some toxic thoughts entered my brain, I would repeat to myself "my name is Jennifer Millican and I am a champion". It's sounds silly, maybe even crazy, but you know what? I am officially a champion.

Fast forward to a few weeks out, not exactly sure of the timing. I'm again writing down attempts and struggling.....again. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the pressure, I'm sick of the questioning. I'm sick of it all. I have a good outline of what I'm capable of and what I need. I'm clear about the goals. I surrender. I decide I'm gonna hand over my attempt calls to someone that isn't me. I decided I didn't care about pr's. And I didn't. I really didn't. I officially didn't give one single shit about hitting a pr.

This is where it becomes important that your priorities are clear. It was clear to me that I wanted to win. Nationals was only a step in the right direction. I plan to win IPF Worlds. That is the ultimate goal. I will stand on the podium with an American Flag behind me. Count on it. So the pr's mattered even less.

Suddenly, it became easy. I needed a person with experience, I needed someone who knew what to look at, what to keep up with, what to say, who understood the timing of freakin meet day, and who understood winning. I tell Wade he's in charge. I tell him to make the calls. I sent him the goals, he could handle the rest. Best decision ever. And here's why.

Meet day. Things are weird because I'm lifting at night. So I wake up and then still have a long time before actually lifting. I'm already at weight, so no stress there, it's just a matter of maintaining. I get instructions from Aaron Thomas about what to eat......the instructions are delicious and I'm off to find a pastry. I eat and drink throughout the day and continue to weigh myself, all good. I took a nap, took a bath, did some stretching, watched a movie, holy shit, this is taking forever. I'm trying really hard to manage my energy. Finally it's time to start getting ready to head to the venue.

I get to the venue around 2pm. My friend is lifting then, so I wanted to watch her of course. She does well, seems calm, judging seems fair. My family starts to arrive. The other primetime lifters start to arrive. The nerves start to arrive. Get changed, and now it's time to weigh in. Weigh in. Weigh lighter than I expected. Good for wilks.

In the warm up room. It's 5:30. Lifting at 6:30. Why is no one warming up? Is there a secret warm up
room I don't know about? Whatever, I'm warming up. Second to last warm up. Wade says, "you're 12 out". Ha! Oh well, hit the warm up a couple more times. Feeling good. I took a bajillion ibprophen so no stupid shoulder pain or elbow pain or hip pain. No pain. Sweet.

SO. NERVOUS.

My nerves had decided that I was likely going to bomb out and that everything was too heavy and that I didn't know what the fuck I was doing here. "My name is Jennifer Millican and I am a champion". My nerves had decided that this wasn't worth it. The pressure was too much, it costs too much money and it was all stupid, all of it. Why am I here? "My name is Jennifer Millican and I am a champion".

The bar is loaded. Struggling with my stupid wrist wraps. Jeez. I'm gonna get timed out because of wrist wraps. Stare down the bar. "My name is Jennifer Millican and I am a champion"

Walk up to the bar. Get under it, walk it out. Holy shit. I am shaking all over. This bar is going to shake right off my back. "My name is Jennifer Millican and I am a champion"

347.5lbs. Good lift. 3 white lights.

GAME ON mother fuckers. GAME. ON.

I walk off the platform and my nerves were way worse than I expected. And I'm a nervous person. I say to Wade, "be conservative". He says something in kilos, which I can't remember how much anything is; my brain wouldn't work. I said, "just make the call" and walk away. Insert, "thank goodness I'm not making the calls".

Second attempt, 363 I think? I don't even know. I shifted a bit coming out of the hole, but good lift.

I say to my husband in the back behind the platform. This is fun. And it was, it was fun. I remembered why I love competing. I loved the atmosphere, I loved being around the best of the best.

Wade tells me he went conservative for the third attempt. I knew why. I was in agreement. Third attempt, 167.5 kilos, 369lbs. Good lift.

Exhale. Now all I had to do was win.

Bench has been feeling like crap. I think I mentally block myself from taking a bench all the way through a training cycle but whatever. I'm coasting at this point. I low balled my opening bench attempt by quite a bit (or so I thought), so I was relaxed.

First attempt. 2 red lights. FUCK.

Wade looks at me and is surprised. He says he's going up 2.5 kilos and just to fix it. I was rattled but only slightly. I knew I could fix it. Time only moves in one direction.

I look at Michael before going into my second attempt bench and say "Jennifer Millican 8 for 9" and he repeated it back to me. Are you noticing a pattern? Self talk is muy importante.

2nd attempt good. That's right.

3rd attempt, not exactly where I thought I would be but I didn't care. I just needed to get it. I was again super nervous. I needed something. I walk out on the platform and call for the crowd to give me some noise. EXTREMELY uncharacteristic, but I needed something. I have learned the power in asking for what you need. I asked and they delivered. A bit of a grind, but good lift. 95 kilos. Stood up and jumped in my husband's arms and he said "Jennifer Millican, 8 for 9".

Deadlifts. Coasting. At this point, it's all over but the crying.

Warm ups for deadlifts felt great. I'm a self admitted deadlift hater. But the tides are changing. I'm starting to like it. Starting to count on it. Aaron Thomas tells me he's going to increase my volume on deads and bring back block pulls (aka death pulls) so the romance is sure to die. Nonetheless, 3 easy pulls, definitely more in the tank. Ended with 402. Jennifer Millican, 8 for 9.

I once listened to tail end of a motivational type talk at an event that I was actually doing a team building exercise for. I can't remember the name of the guy doing the talk but he was a retired quarterback and he's the guy that changed my attempt selection strategy. In the huddle he would tell his guys not to think about end zone, but to only think about this play. How are we going to win this play? Nothing else matters but winning this play, right here, right now. He told his players it was about stacking up the plays. It was about winning every play. If you can stack up enough wins, before you know it, you're standing in the end zone.

I did end up winning best lifter. I beat two legendary women. My strategy this meet was the same as my last meet, because there is no magic fairy dust on the platform after all. That strategy is to stack up as many attempts as possible.

"Every attempt I tell myself, all I have to do is win this one attempt, and before I knew it, I was standing on top of the podium."  

Emotions and feelings will use you. Don't let them. It is difficult, because your feelings are real and they are serious, but they will use you up! They will use you all the way to failure and some deep dark places. When you treat life like one big math problem instead of feelings and things that are not calculable, your perceived limitations become bullshit.

Thank you a million times to Aaron Thomas for programming and teaching me a bit about training and math problems and perceived limitations. Wade Johnson for teaching me to stuff my feelings in the ground and just execute the lift.

My husband, for knowing what to say and do and not getting mad at me when I do let my feelings get the best of me. But not for eating all my food, particularly chips.

All my gasoline.

My name is Jennifer Millican and I am a champion.

Officially.