Every good recap starts long before the actual part about the meet itself or maybe I'm a food blogger? I digress. I'm going to start all the way back at 2018 IPF Worlds. I knew that was going to be my last meet at 57. I knew that I would not be making an appearance at Worlds in 2019. I made a very calculated decision to go up to the 63's and take the summer off. The saltiness begins because what I expected to happen and what actually happened didn't align. A recipe for dissatisfaction. Cognitive dissonance has been haunting me ever since my third deadlift at 2018 Raw Nationals hit the ground.
2018 Raw Nationals ranks quite high in regards to performance and satisfaction. I finally managed to hit lifetime PR's on lifts. On my third deadlift, I was pulling to break a 500kg total. It would have been a hell of a get, but I just couldn't quite lock it out. I ended the meet with an American Record squat (also an unofficial World Record) and a 490.5kg total with 8 made attempts. My first real training cycle as a 63 set the standard HIGH. My expectations for training and numbers afterward followed suit.
Training was going fairly well up until about January and it just kind of fizzled out. I did The Arnold in March with a bench that left (read: I lost about 7.5kgs off my best), a stagnant squat, and deadlift that had sky rocketed only to slide backwards before the meet. I was pretty devastated and a lot salty. I most certainly did not want to do The Arnold much less The Grand Prix. However....I also do not want to be an ego driven lifter who only shows up when they think they can win or cause an uproar with records and such. For The Arnold our strategy was simply to get all 9 lifts and not chase any particular number or record or placing. I was in no mood to load numbers for the sake of loading of them when they simply weren't there and took it as an opportunity to practice restraint and maturity as a lifter and team. And we did. We went 9 for 9 and totaled 485kgs, 5.5kgs less than my total at Nationals.
Training after Nationals still didn't pick up much but it at least seemed to be holding steady, except for bench...it was still dragging it's feet. Even though training wasn't super exciting and at times my motivation was pretty low...I kept telling myself to keep showing up and to keep my effort in check. Still pretty salty just about ALL OF IT but, showing up.
In June, just before we went on vacation, we made an offer on a house. This is why I wanted to take the summer off. Even though I knew this was our plan, making the offer happened a little bit sooner than we really expected. Another thing that I didn't quite expect was the amount of FOMO I felt watching IPF Worlds.
We get back from vacation and I AM READY to hit the ground running. I am ready for training to take off and I AM READY for this house business to be taken care of. Well. Neither one of those things exactly took off. My focus was in about 238475937 places at once. Nonetheless, time only moves forwards and that's what I did.
When we actually moved, the physical part of moving, which coincided with school starting (#whyamilikethis), I believe is when we got behind the fatigue curve a little. I was tired, and hungry, and thirsty and my life and schedule were in shambles, but I made it to training...wearing the clothes I slept in the night before and with paint in my hair, but I showed up.
All of the aforementioned parts of life added up and were reflected in my training and how I felt. My knees were killing me. Waking me up in my shitty sleep killing me. With the lack of progress, and painful knees I thought I was old and had osteoporosis and this was the end. I had my day in the sun. However, after talking with a PT friend, I (she) figured my osteoporosis was patellar tendonitis so all hope was not lost for the long term. But I'm still salty...and showing up.
I keep waiting for the turn around. I am also looking at the calendar and I know I'm running out of time. Once we get over the big hump of moving and home improvements and start to get settled into the new school year....I start to settled into the idea that this meet is not going to be what I thought it would. I decide to adjust the goals. I tell Wade and Aaron that I'm just going to shoot for a PR total and a silver medal finish.
I'm about 3 weeks out and to be honest I am starting to question whether or not the adjusted goal is even attainable. I am salty about it. But I keep showing up. On the bright side. Bench starts to peek through the darkness. This takes a bit of the edge off.
I had been having some issues with sleep pretty much since we made the offer on the house. Just too much going on for my mind to just freakin relax. If you've been around a while, you know I train in the mornings before work. This makes for a pleasant combination. Wade was going to South Africa to compete in his IPF Worlds and I was happy and proud of him for making it there. It also happened to be my heaviest week of training. Call it divine intervention. Call it coincidence. Call it luck. Call it whatever you want. I had to switch my training to evenings for this last heavy week and I think it may have been what saved me.
This last week of training was a big ol breath of fresh air. I felt like myself again. I felt strong again. I also felt salty because I just couldn't help but think it was too late. I kept thinking, MAN, if I had one more week of this I could see PR's on the horizon. I can't control that though so I sack up and decide to ride the high of that last week.
ENTER: Podcast previews. ENTER: TRUCK LOADS OF SALT. Now. I do try to limit my ego. But let's be honest....having an ego is a prerequisite for powerlifting. My feelings were hurt. I kept running the numbers in my head. I'm thinking, I take one summer off and everything I've done has been erased. I felt left out but I let it fuel me (shout out to Matt Gary for having my back though).
Enter: Jennifer who won those titles and set those records. Let them sleep. I have done the work. I have set the appropriate goals. We have made the plan. That is what we do. We do the work, we set the goals, we make the plan, we execute the plan and the goals take care of themselves.
Ok, meet day details:
Surprise! I didn't sleep a wink the night before the meet. "Woke up" feeling like a steaming pile of week old garbage. I went for a walk with the hubs and we goofed off and make jokes and took pictures and it was enough to shake it. At some point I tried to think of how I had slept before any other meet. I couldn't remember. At that point I said to myself....it really doesn't matter. All that matters is what actually happens, so let's actually fucking go!
Squats:
The bar felt good. Everything else felt like garbage. Scanlon is opening 12.5kgs heavier than me. Embarrassing. I remind myself I had a plan and to only worry about executing MY plan. The outcome will take care of itself. I was very tempted to ask to drop my opener. My attempts were slightly more aggressive than my usual style. We knew I could hit the numbers and we were leaving the door open for an unexpected great day. Before the opener I told myself it was just about hitting it. It wasn't about it being super fast. Just get it. You've done this weight countless times. Opener was 170kgs and good. I repeat this talk to myself for my 2nd at 180kgs and it is good. For the third, I thought for sure the call would be 182.5kgs. Wade comes up to me and tells me that I'm going to have to dig. At that point, I knew he had called 185kgs. I LOVE a good affirmation. From the time I finished my second attempt, I repeated to myself, "Jennifer Millican goes 3 for 3 in the squat, lift is GOOD for Jennifer Millican". And it was. Wade and Aaron made the perfect call and I am feeling good about being able to deliver. We closed out squats in the number 1 position.
Bench:
WELL I'LL BE if bench didn't feel like I could have hit a life time PR. I complained about my bench nearly everyday. I made adjustments. I changed my training. I changed my set up. I changed my grip. I did literally everything and I never stopped trying. I was so pumped about my bench from that incredible meet a year ago and I refused to let it go. I hit 107.5kg in training a few times. I wanted 110kg SO BAD for my last heavy session but 107.5kg didn't move quite fast enough to warrant the call. So I hit 107.5kg for my final bench in training and would have been over the moon with 110kg in the meet. I hit 112.5kg in the meet and I'm not lying when I tell you it was better than the only other time I've hit it...which was at 2018 Nationals. Bench is still a bitch and I love her. Going into deads we are in 2nd place which I expected. But nothing can bring me down from the momentum I'm feeling.
Deads:
Deads felt like deads. Not super great but not horrible. At this point, it's just about securing the goals. Going into 3rds, Wade tells me I've got the silver place position and he is going to load 195kg to obtain our 2nd goal of a PR total. I knew I could get it. I knew it could be hard. When deadlifts are SUPER hard, I tend to gyrate (you heard me) which tends to make judging difficult. So I did have enough stress to constitute another affirmation. "Jennifer Millican goes 9/9 and takes the silver medal position".....and I did. Gyrations were not present (I think they are very fatigue related).
I went 9 for 9, totaled 492.5kgs and took silver. Scroll back up and re-read my goals, I'll wait.
I may have been salty, but I showed up. Ima take all this salt and use it to season this next training cycle.
Much love to Wade, Aaron, my husband, all of my team, family, and friends for sticking with me and refusing to quit believing and reminding me when reminding was needed.
#letsactuallyfuckinggo
Wednesday, October 23, 2019
Monday, March 11, 2019
2019 Arnold Grand Prix: The Great, The Good, and The Indifferent
500 Kilos. That was my original goal for 2019 Arnold. In the beginning, I was invited to the Pro/Am, not The Grand Prix. I'll admit, at first it stung.
Then, I embraced it. I liked the idea of a normal paced meet, likely the slowest paced meet I would have done since 2016 Raw Nationals. The C-Pod did always seem to have more hype from my perspective. It seemed to have more of a"home field advantage" kind of feeling. Not that the Grand Prix isn't great in it's own regard. I was perhaps looking forward to a different experience. Maybe, even one with less pressure.
500 Kilos. That's what I told Aaron and Wade I wanted for The Arnold. I told them this shortly after Nationals. Both of them said that would be easy. I thought it was reasonable. But then, I got to thinking. It seems easy. It seems easy because I just had a really great meet. Possibly, my best performance to date. So I've noticed, it's really difficult to follow up the best meet of your life with another best meet of your life. As I remember this little part, I take the 500 kilos and tuck it away into the 'let's wait and see' file.
I read a book called 'How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win Big' and it has been quite influential in many ways. Observing repeated patterns is one of the key tools I took away from the book. Just by observing a pattern, I can either interrupt it, avoid it all together, or go around it. I may not know the exact cause of the pattern, I just know it exists.
There are two patterns at play here. One is the aforementioned GREAT MEET and the pattern of the follow up. I've noticed for every three meets I do, one tends to be great, one good (or medium), and one shit, but for the sake of not sounding negative, I'll call it indifferent. Maybe it's the timing of the meets? Is it too much to ask for three really great peaks every year?
The other pattern is the curse of The Arnold. Every year, without a doubt, training for The Arnold is going tremendously. Right up until the last block. Every year, I'm ringing in the new year with huge numbers in the gym. I'm talking lifetime PR's type of numbers. And every year, by the end of January, my numbers tank. Seemingly out of nowhere. Maybe it's the post holiday lack of merriment that gets me down? Maybe it's the overwhelming guilt I feel for the all the parties I went to and all the money Santa (me) spent on Christmas? Maybe I just run myself into the ground from October to January and it finally hits me approximately 6 weeks out from The Arnold?
This year was no different. Squat and deadlift were doing quite well (deadlift in particular) and bench had been sort of lagging the whole time but I continued to be optimistic that it was going to show up. Until it didn't. Not only did it not show up, but it too started to regress. In my very unprofessional opinion, I believe an old nerve impingement (circa December 2015) had flared back up. No pain. Just no power. I lost ~7.5-10kgs on my bench. This really got me down.
About the time my training starts to slip backwards is about the time that I was asked to go to The Grand Prix. I was hesitant to accept. However, I do have some pride. So reluctantly, I make the move.
Don't worry, it gets worse from there. Every training session was a struggle. I legitimately wanted to withdraw. I begin to feel an immense amount of pressure to hit specific numbers that I know I don't have. What if I come in last (I did for all intents and purposes)? What if Scanlon takes my squat record on her 2nd (she did)? What if I fail a record attempt (I did not)? Maybe I should just weigh in heavy and avoid all pressures and comparisons? Maybe I should just withdraw?
Maybe, the only person putting this kind of pressure on me was ME? Maybe The Grand Prix is nothing to fuck with and I should just go and put up some solid numbers and be grateful that I was asked to be a part of it? Maybe I should just surrender to the patterns I've noticed and have peace in knowing that this meet isn't THE MEET but better this one than literally any other one? MAYBE, it's time for me harness my experiences and stop acting so green?
Let's go 9 for 9. That's what I told Aaron and Wade I wanted for The Arnold. At Nationals, I had the meet of my life, went 8/9 and totaled 490.5kgs. At sub-par condition, not a single grinder or even a slight risk, I went 9/9 and totaled 485kgs.
We played the pattern. Maybe we bypassed the total shit meet and turned into the indifferent meet. Maybe instead of pushing beyond my limits, leaving me with feelings of failure, we instead lifted within our means and I'm left with the feeling of hunger for the next great meet.
Then, I embraced it. I liked the idea of a normal paced meet, likely the slowest paced meet I would have done since 2016 Raw Nationals. The C-Pod did always seem to have more hype from my perspective. It seemed to have more of a"home field advantage" kind of feeling. Not that the Grand Prix isn't great in it's own regard. I was perhaps looking forward to a different experience. Maybe, even one with less pressure.
500 Kilos. That's what I told Aaron and Wade I wanted for The Arnold. I told them this shortly after Nationals. Both of them said that would be easy. I thought it was reasonable. But then, I got to thinking. It seems easy. It seems easy because I just had a really great meet. Possibly, my best performance to date. So I've noticed, it's really difficult to follow up the best meet of your life with another best meet of your life. As I remember this little part, I take the 500 kilos and tuck it away into the 'let's wait and see' file.
I read a book called 'How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win Big' and it has been quite influential in many ways. Observing repeated patterns is one of the key tools I took away from the book. Just by observing a pattern, I can either interrupt it, avoid it all together, or go around it. I may not know the exact cause of the pattern, I just know it exists.
There are two patterns at play here. One is the aforementioned GREAT MEET and the pattern of the follow up. I've noticed for every three meets I do, one tends to be great, one good (or medium), and one shit, but for the sake of not sounding negative, I'll call it indifferent. Maybe it's the timing of the meets? Is it too much to ask for three really great peaks every year?
The other pattern is the curse of The Arnold. Every year, without a doubt, training for The Arnold is going tremendously. Right up until the last block. Every year, I'm ringing in the new year with huge numbers in the gym. I'm talking lifetime PR's type of numbers. And every year, by the end of January, my numbers tank. Seemingly out of nowhere. Maybe it's the post holiday lack of merriment that gets me down? Maybe it's the overwhelming guilt I feel for the all the parties I went to and all the money Santa (me) spent on Christmas? Maybe I just run myself into the ground from October to January and it finally hits me approximately 6 weeks out from The Arnold?
This year was no different. Squat and deadlift were doing quite well (deadlift in particular) and bench had been sort of lagging the whole time but I continued to be optimistic that it was going to show up. Until it didn't. Not only did it not show up, but it too started to regress. In my very unprofessional opinion, I believe an old nerve impingement (circa December 2015) had flared back up. No pain. Just no power. I lost ~7.5-10kgs on my bench. This really got me down.
About the time my training starts to slip backwards is about the time that I was asked to go to The Grand Prix. I was hesitant to accept. However, I do have some pride. So reluctantly, I make the move.
Don't worry, it gets worse from there. Every training session was a struggle. I legitimately wanted to withdraw. I begin to feel an immense amount of pressure to hit specific numbers that I know I don't have. What if I come in last (I did for all intents and purposes)? What if Scanlon takes my squat record on her 2nd (she did)? What if I fail a record attempt (I did not)? Maybe I should just weigh in heavy and avoid all pressures and comparisons? Maybe I should just withdraw?
Maybe, the only person putting this kind of pressure on me was ME? Maybe The Grand Prix is nothing to fuck with and I should just go and put up some solid numbers and be grateful that I was asked to be a part of it? Maybe I should just surrender to the patterns I've noticed and have peace in knowing that this meet isn't THE MEET but better this one than literally any other one? MAYBE, it's time for me harness my experiences and stop acting so green?
Let's go 9 for 9. That's what I told Aaron and Wade I wanted for The Arnold. At Nationals, I had the meet of my life, went 8/9 and totaled 490.5kgs. At sub-par condition, not a single grinder or even a slight risk, I went 9/9 and totaled 485kgs.
We played the pattern. Maybe we bypassed the total shit meet and turned into the indifferent meet. Maybe instead of pushing beyond my limits, leaving me with feelings of failure, we instead lifted within our means and I'm left with the feeling of hunger for the next great meet.
Monday, February 11, 2019
Gratitude and what it means to me
When I was a kid, I watched powerlifting and bodybuilding on TV. I loved wrestling and sports. I played lots of sports as well. This was the beginnings of my quest for strength. Many years working on our farm and many others farms to make money, also lead to the natural strength that I was so blessed with. I remember seeing the first worlds strongman man contests on TV and thinking how cool it would be to some day compete in strength.
When I started competing in powerlifting, I had already been training for a few years. Simply training, working out and just trying to get strong. I had no desire to compete and honestly didn’t know of an outlet to do so. I was a big guy, enjoyed being strong and was fine with that. Back in those days, I had a bench and weights in my office where I worked. I had some dumbbells up to about 40 lbs. A co-worker would come down after hours and hand off to me and convinced me when I broke 300 in the bench, that I should do a meet. I was like, no way. He knew of a gym owner in Murfreesboro, TN. He stayed after me, and so there you have it. He came down, handled me at the meet, it was bench only. I met Anthony Clark and several local lifters, had a great time and was hooked.
There is a lot of story to be told between that day and now. I won’t make you suffer through all that but, it brings me to the history of what is now The Ogre Compound. In the late 90’s, I started acquiring equipment and making boxes and boards and anything else I could do to have the tools needed to get stronger. I would work side jobs and after paying bills, I would take the extra money and buy plates. I remember buying all the 2.5’s the money I had would buy and being questioned as to why I needed 20 of them. I knew someday, well I hoped, that I would have a place where like minded people could come and train and do great things and get strong and be part of a team.
In 2004, I moved into the house where the gym is currently housed. There was so much work done just to get a portion of it where we could train. In early 2004, we ran a regional meet in Bristol, VA. I bought my first of 3 monolifts at that meet and from there, the quest for more equipment really ramped up.2006 I opened the gym to private clients. I remember having 3 people and thought I was busy. In 2009, we build an addition where we currently have the monolifts and all things squat. From that point, we trained at the gym full time and have never looked back. Hard to believe how time has gone by. In 2013, I was at a meet in Cincy at The Sweat Shop judging. That is where I met Melissa or Missy as she is known. She moved here in 2014. We have made a house a home.
I have traveled all over the planet in my pursuit and others pursuit of strength. I have been fortunate enough to go to far away places with lifters and see and do great things with them both as a lifter and coach. It is now February of 2019. Missy has competed in powerlifting, making a comeback from serious injury the year before at strongman nationals and had a great day with a lifetime pr in the deadlift. We’ve seen newcomer Cooper compete in his first strongman competition. Then part of the team was at another meet, Deanna, Alli, Mark and Deek. All doing so well and lifting as a team. This weekend, Big Mikey competed in a meet, going 8-9 and taking best lifter. Next weekend, another part of the team is competing at a meet that part of the team is running and reffing and a state chair. We have a weekend to catch our collective breath and then off to the Arnold. Some of the team is competing there and I get to coach with my buddy Chris. In the midst of all this, I am lucky enough to have an online team of folks and they are training hard and competing everywhere. It never stops and there are no days off…it is exactly what I signed on for. The days can be long and hours tiring but, even in moments where I question myself as to why, it is never far away that I’m given a message or sign as to why I do this.
The gratitude comes from the trust all these folks have had in either coaching, equipment, facility, team and any number of things. For many of us, that little area downstairs is our social time, our solace and place of sanctuary. Where people from all places, races and religion simply come together with the common ground and goal to be the best versions of themselves and help each other achieve it. In the last month, I have had two people talk to me at meets that I had met earlier in my career. Patrick I met in the 90’s when he was 16! Now I coach him and he trains part time at the gym. Benita, {spelling?} saw me at a meet yesterday. I have seen her at a couple of events and thought, she looked super familiar. In talking, she said in so many words, you won’t remember this but 10 years ago…and I knew exactly at that moment how I knew her. Roughly 10 years ago, she contacted me about training. She was a professional wrestler and in the time of chatting and emailing back and forth, she got picked up and off she went. The world is such a small place at times. That lead me to tell the story of how I met Frank, who trains at the same gym she trains at. So many stories, so many lives and times shared.
At the meet yesterday, Jesse spoke to me and said it was good to see me and in so many words, was appreciative of everything I had done for him and the SPF. Just the way we were treated, how we are treated every where we go. Each weekend, I have had to leave the team to train without me. They, the team, have created a culture. I have been upstairs grabbing a bag to leave and can hear them laughing, cheering and yelling for one another. Yesterday, I got an email from a lifter and video and there they were, being a team and spotting and coaching and supporting each other. A few weeks back, we had the biggest amount of lifters training at the gym in its history and I took a moment to step outside, outside the noise of the team and whatever music was playing to have a quiet moment to look up and give the Big Guy a nod and simply to be thankful. I have been so blessed to have worked with so many people. To train with them, to coach them and watch incredible things take place. Many have slept here, have eaten here and had a drink or several here. Noone here is rich but, a great pal of mine who has become family like so many, once told me, I needed to decide what wealth was to me. Was it to have a lot of money as that is rich or see the blessings I have and the wealth of things that I get to experience, share and simply live. I was chatting with Jenn the other day and told her, while this is hard…she was on me about taking care of myself and resting as she knew I was tired…I am living my dream. No, I don’t have a giant facility with all the cool toys and such but, we have a gym. Sure, I built it and have spent my life buying things, building things and such but, they make it a gym. Anyone can have a building and fill it full of gear but, the lifters, the people, they make it a gym. A place to be, a place to share and a place to pursue.
I can say the same for the crew I get to work with online. Many of them have become family. We visit them and they come and stay with us. Many have had children or have gotten married. I have had a few of the guys after speaking with the Father’s of their now brides, message me to talk about what was to come. I have held babies and have been to graduations and go to family events. So, to say my cup is full is quite an understatement. Is it hard? Yes! Is it tiring? Yes…I should probably rest more than I do but, never feel sorry for me…I’ll never be rich and I’ll probably always drive some broken car and have a thing or two in need of repair on my house but, as long as I’m able, I’ll climb down those steep steps from my kitchen down into the gym, spilling coffee as I go. I remember when Wes visited as he lived elsewhere. He was about 14 and stood holding his back staring at the one monolift in the old part of the gym just incredulous, “we had a monolift”. Many years have passed since that moment but it is a vivid memory. And now, he coaches people here and trains here.
I’m not sure how well I have conveyed my thanks and gratitude here but, I assure you, I am so blessed and know I am blessed well beyond anything I deserve. There are so many of you over the years that I have worked with that there are simply too many to mention individually but, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your belief. Any of you that know me, know that belief and the word believe means such a great deal to me. Thank you for your trust. Many have spouses and children that come here. To be trusted with them is an immense privilege. I have been able to coach some of the strongest women in the sport right here. To have that bond and trust means so much to me.
From here, I’ll say what I always say. I am going to try to be as strong as I can for as long as I can. I will continue to do what I can to learn and be open minded to new things and keep striving for what will help us all get that next pr, record and title. So, simply, from me to all of you that I get to be a part of life and lifting, so much thanks. The honor and blessing is mine.
When I started competing in powerlifting, I had already been training for a few years. Simply training, working out and just trying to get strong. I had no desire to compete and honestly didn’t know of an outlet to do so. I was a big guy, enjoyed being strong and was fine with that. Back in those days, I had a bench and weights in my office where I worked. I had some dumbbells up to about 40 lbs. A co-worker would come down after hours and hand off to me and convinced me when I broke 300 in the bench, that I should do a meet. I was like, no way. He knew of a gym owner in Murfreesboro, TN. He stayed after me, and so there you have it. He came down, handled me at the meet, it was bench only. I met Anthony Clark and several local lifters, had a great time and was hooked.
There is a lot of story to be told between that day and now. I won’t make you suffer through all that but, it brings me to the history of what is now The Ogre Compound. In the late 90’s, I started acquiring equipment and making boxes and boards and anything else I could do to have the tools needed to get stronger. I would work side jobs and after paying bills, I would take the extra money and buy plates. I remember buying all the 2.5’s the money I had would buy and being questioned as to why I needed 20 of them. I knew someday, well I hoped, that I would have a place where like minded people could come and train and do great things and get strong and be part of a team.
In 2004, I moved into the house where the gym is currently housed. There was so much work done just to get a portion of it where we could train. In early 2004, we ran a regional meet in Bristol, VA. I bought my first of 3 monolifts at that meet and from there, the quest for more equipment really ramped up.2006 I opened the gym to private clients. I remember having 3 people and thought I was busy. In 2009, we build an addition where we currently have the monolifts and all things squat. From that point, we trained at the gym full time and have never looked back. Hard to believe how time has gone by. In 2013, I was at a meet in Cincy at The Sweat Shop judging. That is where I met Melissa or Missy as she is known. She moved here in 2014. We have made a house a home.
I have traveled all over the planet in my pursuit and others pursuit of strength. I have been fortunate enough to go to far away places with lifters and see and do great things with them both as a lifter and coach. It is now February of 2019. Missy has competed in powerlifting, making a comeback from serious injury the year before at strongman nationals and had a great day with a lifetime pr in the deadlift. We’ve seen newcomer Cooper compete in his first strongman competition. Then part of the team was at another meet, Deanna, Alli, Mark and Deek. All doing so well and lifting as a team. This weekend, Big Mikey competed in a meet, going 8-9 and taking best lifter. Next weekend, another part of the team is competing at a meet that part of the team is running and reffing and a state chair. We have a weekend to catch our collective breath and then off to the Arnold. Some of the team is competing there and I get to coach with my buddy Chris. In the midst of all this, I am lucky enough to have an online team of folks and they are training hard and competing everywhere. It never stops and there are no days off…it is exactly what I signed on for. The days can be long and hours tiring but, even in moments where I question myself as to why, it is never far away that I’m given a message or sign as to why I do this.
The gratitude comes from the trust all these folks have had in either coaching, equipment, facility, team and any number of things. For many of us, that little area downstairs is our social time, our solace and place of sanctuary. Where people from all places, races and religion simply come together with the common ground and goal to be the best versions of themselves and help each other achieve it. In the last month, I have had two people talk to me at meets that I had met earlier in my career. Patrick I met in the 90’s when he was 16! Now I coach him and he trains part time at the gym. Benita, {spelling?} saw me at a meet yesterday. I have seen her at a couple of events and thought, she looked super familiar. In talking, she said in so many words, you won’t remember this but 10 years ago…and I knew exactly at that moment how I knew her. Roughly 10 years ago, she contacted me about training. She was a professional wrestler and in the time of chatting and emailing back and forth, she got picked up and off she went. The world is such a small place at times. That lead me to tell the story of how I met Frank, who trains at the same gym she trains at. So many stories, so many lives and times shared.
At the meet yesterday, Jesse spoke to me and said it was good to see me and in so many words, was appreciative of everything I had done for him and the SPF. Just the way we were treated, how we are treated every where we go. Each weekend, I have had to leave the team to train without me. They, the team, have created a culture. I have been upstairs grabbing a bag to leave and can hear them laughing, cheering and yelling for one another. Yesterday, I got an email from a lifter and video and there they were, being a team and spotting and coaching and supporting each other. A few weeks back, we had the biggest amount of lifters training at the gym in its history and I took a moment to step outside, outside the noise of the team and whatever music was playing to have a quiet moment to look up and give the Big Guy a nod and simply to be thankful. I have been so blessed to have worked with so many people. To train with them, to coach them and watch incredible things take place. Many have slept here, have eaten here and had a drink or several here. Noone here is rich but, a great pal of mine who has become family like so many, once told me, I needed to decide what wealth was to me. Was it to have a lot of money as that is rich or see the blessings I have and the wealth of things that I get to experience, share and simply live. I was chatting with Jenn the other day and told her, while this is hard…she was on me about taking care of myself and resting as she knew I was tired…I am living my dream. No, I don’t have a giant facility with all the cool toys and such but, we have a gym. Sure, I built it and have spent my life buying things, building things and such but, they make it a gym. Anyone can have a building and fill it full of gear but, the lifters, the people, they make it a gym. A place to be, a place to share and a place to pursue.
I can say the same for the crew I get to work with online. Many of them have become family. We visit them and they come and stay with us. Many have had children or have gotten married. I have had a few of the guys after speaking with the Father’s of their now brides, message me to talk about what was to come. I have held babies and have been to graduations and go to family events. So, to say my cup is full is quite an understatement. Is it hard? Yes! Is it tiring? Yes…I should probably rest more than I do but, never feel sorry for me…I’ll never be rich and I’ll probably always drive some broken car and have a thing or two in need of repair on my house but, as long as I’m able, I’ll climb down those steep steps from my kitchen down into the gym, spilling coffee as I go. I remember when Wes visited as he lived elsewhere. He was about 14 and stood holding his back staring at the one monolift in the old part of the gym just incredulous, “we had a monolift”. Many years have passed since that moment but it is a vivid memory. And now, he coaches people here and trains here.
I’m not sure how well I have conveyed my thanks and gratitude here but, I assure you, I am so blessed and know I am blessed well beyond anything I deserve. There are so many of you over the years that I have worked with that there are simply too many to mention individually but, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your belief. Any of you that know me, know that belief and the word believe means such a great deal to me. Thank you for your trust. Many have spouses and children that come here. To be trusted with them is an immense privilege. I have been able to coach some of the strongest women in the sport right here. To have that bond and trust means so much to me.
From here, I’ll say what I always say. I am going to try to be as strong as I can for as long as I can. I will continue to do what I can to learn and be open minded to new things and keep striving for what will help us all get that next pr, record and title. So, simply, from me to all of you that I get to be a part of life and lifting, so much thanks. The honor and blessing is mine.
Tuesday, December 18, 2018
Louis LaFont Biss
Leverages.
My name is Jennifer. I am Louie’s Granddaughter. Also, mother to his first great grandchild, but no big deal.
Some of you may know that I am competitive in the sport of powerlifting (or weightlifting as it is often called by family members). Well, by competitive, I mean, I’m one of the best there is. Literally, in the world of drug free lifting, you’re looking at one of the best in the world. No, seriously, I’m not kidding. I can legit bench more than 98% of this room. Now that I’ve established credibility, I can move on to my point. Most of lifting, is really just leverages. Leverages are really just the fastest and most efficient way from point a to point b.
When we organize our training, there is an analogy we use which is quite applicable to life. Powerlifting is made up of the squat, bench and deadlift. In training, we can think of what we need to do based on a bucket that needs to be filled up. First start filling up the bucket with large stones. These large stones represent the main movements. Squat, bench and deadlift. The remainder of your bucket should be filled in with smaller stones or pebbles, then sand, then water. Each represents different and necessary and individual ways to get stronger. All these things combined and your bucket is solid. No gaps. No weaknesses. Each element plays a different role but is necessary for a solid competition.
Over the years of my life (not that many), I find it difficult to decide whether I am a large stone, a pebble, or sand or water. You see, I come from a large family. And then I did a thing where I also married into a large family. (I promise I’m gonna get to Louie, just bear with me). My husband’s family is really good at many things that I am not. One of them, is gift giving. (Actually also one of Louie’s strengths). They are all fantastic at gift giving. I sit there on Christmas day in shame as I am just not good gift giving. My father in law retired. It was a big deal. They were having a big party. I start to feel the pressure of “THE GIFT” I ask my husband about “THE GIFT” and he’s no help. This is a guy who buys ceiling fans as gifts. Finally, I surrender. I ask myself, what am I good at? What can I leverage here? I call my mother in law, and say, “Listen, I’m no good at gifts. I don’t know what to buy. But what I can offer is cooking. I can cook all the food for the party” She sighs in relief. She is so happy to let me do the food and I AM SO HAPPY to offer it.
Within our family, we have so many leverages to offer. We are a lot of large stones, pebbles, sand and water. My Grandma, Nancy, if you ask me, offers polish. Many people offer a meal, or a sleep on their couch or in their home, a place to stay after college, a word of advice. My Grandma does all those things but does them with POLISH. If you come to stay on her couch, she makes that couch up with fresh sheets, and a fluffed pillow, and is sure you have the remote near you before she turns off all the lights off and tells you good night. If she provides you a meal, whether in your home or hers, all appropriate accompaniments are presents. Salad, bread, entrée, sides, desserts and all packaged perfectly. If you have a meal in her home, there is no worry or thought of condiments or napkins. She will set up your t.v tray, be sure the lighting is right and you have ice in your glass. Should you need a place to stay after college, she will pack your lunch and your co-workers will be envious of your well balanced meals. If you need a word of advice, she will offer it, and do it matter of factly and her thoughts will be clear but never rude. While my Grandma has many fantastic characteristics, the one that has always stood out to me is her polish.
We are a big family and that requires a lot of work for all of us to get together. Which translates to a lot of stones, pebbles, sand and water. We all float along with our different leverages. Depending on the time and the season, we have all likely been a stone, a pebble, sand or water. My father Larry, offers the leverage of fixing or building. My mother Anne, the leverage of small/special details. My cousin, Tony, the leverage of labor and presence. While I claim the leverage of cooking and meal planning in other arenas, Michelle and Mike are the keeper of that title here. Aunt Tracy and her family, often the entertainers of little ones. Aunt Kathy, the décor specialist and often times playing the role of event coordinator or organizer. Aunt DiDi, the peace keeper, the keep on keepin on of the matriarch. And all of the rest of us, filling in with our pebbles and sand and water.
And Grandpa. Louie. The constant. The king. Mr. Christmas. I’ve been thinking about this speech and what I wanted to say for some time. And truthfully, it’s nothing like the one I had been rolling around in my brain. I wrote it once several months ago. Again, a couple of days ago. And once more last night. And that’s ok. I’ve learned through writing, that you can’t get married to one singular idea, you’ve got to let it flow through you. Over the past few days, I think I speak for all of us when I say that time has not necessarily stopped, but has not necessarily existed either. As I said before, I’ve been struggling on where I fit in. On what I have to offer. I think it came to me Thursday night as we ended the sacred fire for my Grandpa. There is one role that is not often mentioned. The role of the observer. My Grandpa often the man behind the camera both literally and figuratively. Over the past few days we’ve had so many friends and family stop by. I know I speak for all of our family when I tell you how incredibly grateful we are that each of you came. I watched old friends and family of the past come and remanence about years past. I watched young cousins comfort each other and challenge one another to take the ride down the hill on the big wheel. I watched the new generation take the reins on cooking and cleaning as our mothers and fathers comforted one another and played host to my Grandma and Grandpa’s friends and family. For those few days, time in fact did not exist. The past, present, and future were all there mingled and mashed up together and it was as if someone painted a live portrait of my life and time did not exist.
Gathered here today, there is a beautiful smorgasbord of people. Each of us here have a story. A role. A different one. We may sometimes be a large stone, a small pebble, sand, or water. And that makes up a great and varied and wonderful story. And my Grandpa listened to each one. And he listened to understand. And he accepted each of us whether we were a stone, a pebble, sand or water. And that’s why we are all here today. Because in some way, Louis LaFont Biss made each of us believe in ourselves and our own leverages… just a little bit more….one day at a time. So…let’s raise our glasses……To Louie!..... May we forever be indebted to you and may we forever repay it.
My name is Jennifer. I am Louie’s Granddaughter. Also, mother to his first great grandchild, but no big deal.
Some of you may know that I am competitive in the sport of powerlifting (or weightlifting as it is often called by family members). Well, by competitive, I mean, I’m one of the best there is. Literally, in the world of drug free lifting, you’re looking at one of the best in the world. No, seriously, I’m not kidding. I can legit bench more than 98% of this room. Now that I’ve established credibility, I can move on to my point. Most of lifting, is really just leverages. Leverages are really just the fastest and most efficient way from point a to point b.
When we organize our training, there is an analogy we use which is quite applicable to life. Powerlifting is made up of the squat, bench and deadlift. In training, we can think of what we need to do based on a bucket that needs to be filled up. First start filling up the bucket with large stones. These large stones represent the main movements. Squat, bench and deadlift. The remainder of your bucket should be filled in with smaller stones or pebbles, then sand, then water. Each represents different and necessary and individual ways to get stronger. All these things combined and your bucket is solid. No gaps. No weaknesses. Each element plays a different role but is necessary for a solid competition.
Over the years of my life (not that many), I find it difficult to decide whether I am a large stone, a pebble, or sand or water. You see, I come from a large family. And then I did a thing where I also married into a large family. (I promise I’m gonna get to Louie, just bear with me). My husband’s family is really good at many things that I am not. One of them, is gift giving. (Actually also one of Louie’s strengths). They are all fantastic at gift giving. I sit there on Christmas day in shame as I am just not good gift giving. My father in law retired. It was a big deal. They were having a big party. I start to feel the pressure of “THE GIFT” I ask my husband about “THE GIFT” and he’s no help. This is a guy who buys ceiling fans as gifts. Finally, I surrender. I ask myself, what am I good at? What can I leverage here? I call my mother in law, and say, “Listen, I’m no good at gifts. I don’t know what to buy. But what I can offer is cooking. I can cook all the food for the party” She sighs in relief. She is so happy to let me do the food and I AM SO HAPPY to offer it.
Within our family, we have so many leverages to offer. We are a lot of large stones, pebbles, sand and water. My Grandma, Nancy, if you ask me, offers polish. Many people offer a meal, or a sleep on their couch or in their home, a place to stay after college, a word of advice. My Grandma does all those things but does them with POLISH. If you come to stay on her couch, she makes that couch up with fresh sheets, and a fluffed pillow, and is sure you have the remote near you before she turns off all the lights off and tells you good night. If she provides you a meal, whether in your home or hers, all appropriate accompaniments are presents. Salad, bread, entrée, sides, desserts and all packaged perfectly. If you have a meal in her home, there is no worry or thought of condiments or napkins. She will set up your t.v tray, be sure the lighting is right and you have ice in your glass. Should you need a place to stay after college, she will pack your lunch and your co-workers will be envious of your well balanced meals. If you need a word of advice, she will offer it, and do it matter of factly and her thoughts will be clear but never rude. While my Grandma has many fantastic characteristics, the one that has always stood out to me is her polish.
We are a big family and that requires a lot of work for all of us to get together. Which translates to a lot of stones, pebbles, sand and water. We all float along with our different leverages. Depending on the time and the season, we have all likely been a stone, a pebble, sand or water. My father Larry, offers the leverage of fixing or building. My mother Anne, the leverage of small/special details. My cousin, Tony, the leverage of labor and presence. While I claim the leverage of cooking and meal planning in other arenas, Michelle and Mike are the keeper of that title here. Aunt Tracy and her family, often the entertainers of little ones. Aunt Kathy, the décor specialist and often times playing the role of event coordinator or organizer. Aunt DiDi, the peace keeper, the keep on keepin on of the matriarch. And all of the rest of us, filling in with our pebbles and sand and water.
And Grandpa. Louie. The constant. The king. Mr. Christmas. I’ve been thinking about this speech and what I wanted to say for some time. And truthfully, it’s nothing like the one I had been rolling around in my brain. I wrote it once several months ago. Again, a couple of days ago. And once more last night. And that’s ok. I’ve learned through writing, that you can’t get married to one singular idea, you’ve got to let it flow through you. Over the past few days, I think I speak for all of us when I say that time has not necessarily stopped, but has not necessarily existed either. As I said before, I’ve been struggling on where I fit in. On what I have to offer. I think it came to me Thursday night as we ended the sacred fire for my Grandpa. There is one role that is not often mentioned. The role of the observer. My Grandpa often the man behind the camera both literally and figuratively. Over the past few days we’ve had so many friends and family stop by. I know I speak for all of our family when I tell you how incredibly grateful we are that each of you came. I watched old friends and family of the past come and remanence about years past. I watched young cousins comfort each other and challenge one another to take the ride down the hill on the big wheel. I watched the new generation take the reins on cooking and cleaning as our mothers and fathers comforted one another and played host to my Grandma and Grandpa’s friends and family. For those few days, time in fact did not exist. The past, present, and future were all there mingled and mashed up together and it was as if someone painted a live portrait of my life and time did not exist.
Gathered here today, there is a beautiful smorgasbord of people. Each of us here have a story. A role. A different one. We may sometimes be a large stone, a small pebble, sand, or water. And that makes up a great and varied and wonderful story. And my Grandpa listened to each one. And he listened to understand. And he accepted each of us whether we were a stone, a pebble, sand or water. And that’s why we are all here today. Because in some way, Louis LaFont Biss made each of us believe in ourselves and our own leverages… just a little bit more….one day at a time. So…let’s raise our glasses……To Louie!..... May we forever be indebted to you and may we forever repay it.
Thursday, November 15, 2018
2018 Raw Nationals: Will the Real Jennifer Millican Please Stand Up
As per the usual, the beginning of a new training cycle always hinges on the results of the last one. After IPF Worlds in June, I was pretty beat up and beat down. For almost the entire training cycle, I was either just getting over being sick, or about to be sick again. If I wasn't sick, I was dealing with an annoying tweak. And of course, the added fun of having to keep my bodyweight in check. All of this to say, I was probably a little worse off than I thought at the time, but in typical me fashion, I couldn't realize it until I came up for air after the meet.
I had decided long ago that I would be moving up a weight class regardless of what happened in Calgary. So that was not even a topic of discussion. A non-negotiable. The training cycle started super slow. All dumbbells all the time. I was pretty hesitant to get any sort of heavy weight in my hands at all because of how beat up I felt. I sandbagged for quite a bit even with primarily non-barbell movements. Eventually, I get called out by my coaches and decide it's time to quit playing.
Now, despite my hesitation to push, I was still optimistic (read: confident) about what I would be able to put up as a 63. Now, some of you reading may already know, but for those of you who don't, I'm gonna let a cat out of the bag. IT'S REALLY HARD FOR ME TO WEIGH LESS THAN 130 POUNDS. I don't care what my coaches say or how tall I am. For me to get/stay under 130lbs takes mucho discipline and I'm not talking about the showing up to the gym and getting through my training sessions and sticking with the plan 90% of the time discipline. I'm talking about 24 hours a day, 7 days a week of strict what am I eating/drinking, when am I gonna get cardio in, will I get a full 8 hours of sleep, what if I have to (or WANT TO) do something social kind of discipline. That's what it takes. And, quite honestly, I did it. For all intents and purposes, I DID THE DAMN THING. (see below)
When I decided to go full force into USA Powerlifting, I set out to win Nationals, go to Worlds, win, and move up to 63's. Well. I went to Nationals. I won the 57's. I won best female lifter. I went to Worlds. I won. I set two world records. I won best female lifter. The only thing I did not follow through on was moving up immediately. Do I regret it? The only glimmer of regret I have is staying in the 57's for another year. But I wouldn't change that first year for anything.
I only regret staying a 57 because I knew I was slipping. I knew my willingness to have the discipline required was fading. But I took the bait of the shininess of another title and shot at making history with a huge wilks. I went entirely against what my gut was telling me. I ain't just talking about hunger pangs. (insert hysterical laughing here)
Back to the subject at hand. I decide to quit playing, and I'm confident about the numbers I would be able to put up. I am confident because as soon as I step off the platform and exhale as a 57, my bodyweight jumps to 135lbs. I can linger around 135lbs with mild discipline. But still discipline nonetheless. With no real discipline and living my life like a regular person, I'm at the top of the weight class. So I know what training feels like when I'm hitting that beautiful stride. Only this time, I'm gonna take it up a notch.
Now, was training all rainbows and sausages? Not really. I was a little disappointed actually. Except for bench. Bench was bae the whole training cycle. Which I totally expected, but even with my high expectations, I was still impressed with how well bench was going. I kept waiting for the crash. There was no crash. It was glorious.
Squat was going pretty well. We came out of the gate of heavy training with 170kgs. From there (my perspective here), it was pretty lack luster. We inched the weight up, but not one session was magical or super confidence boosting. I spent weeks squatting a single at 180kgs. I had decided I would not go any heavier than that. About 2 or so weeks out, Aaron tells me to push it for real. So, I load 182.5kgs and it was pretty close to a max effort squat. So, (in my 57kg brain), I think, I'm probably good for MAYBE 180kgs or 183kgs for a national record at the meet and even that would be awesome.
Bench. As I said, bench was bae. Man, I don't even know what to tell you. It was just fire the whole time. We didn't get greedy. We did step up the frequency. I was doing some kind of pressing every session. I didn't rush or push any specific number. I really tried to walk a line. I thought because I had such trouble with bench at Worlds, missing 100kgs TWICE (hello fatigue), that if I could build a huge bench for Nats, it would really take my competitors by surprise (despite benching against the greatest bencher of all time). I knew where I fell short was the deadlift, so my strategy was to push the subtotal.
Deadlift. What a bitch. WHAT A BITCH. So real quick, when I said I was sick for most of the training cycle before, what was kicking my ass was shingles. It just kept coming back. I couldn't get over it. Shingles attacks the nervous system. And, uh, lifting heavy ass weights isn't exactly easy on the nervous system. Bad move on my part? Maybe. However, the show must go on. I kept waiting on my deadlift to show up. And it was taking it's sweet ass time. For real. Now, I am a shakey person. I get the shakes. Please watch any video ever. MY NERVES IS BAD Y'ALL. I knew that my deadlift wasn't turning the corner because I would start getting the shakes at much lower weights than usual. So, one thing I did for the entire training cycle was take supplements regularly. I read all this stuff (it may be witchcraft or a placebo but guess what? Idgaf) about how stress or things like shingles that attack the nervous system will strip you of vitamin B and minerals. Which will kick your immune system in the dick and you'll be sick forever (i.e me). So I order some b complex vitamins and liquid minerals (and liquid vitamin d plus k for good measure) because I am no bueno at taking pills and quite honestly I am so sick of feeling like shit. I kid you not, that I felt my real deadlift finally showed up at my last heavy session when I hit 195kgs. It wasn't until that session that I thought I might be able to pull enough to be in the running.
THE MEET.
I had some thirds in mind. I was *somewhat* confident on my stretch goals for thirds. But all I knew for sure is what my first and seconds were and I didn't care what they loaded for thirds. I was just going to make them. What you have to understand is my expectations are set in the mind of a woman who has been at a caloric deficit for weeks (months?) and who is coming down to the wire on body weight. I know enough to know that meet day is a different ballgame and that expectations need to be kept in check.
I am warming up for squats and think....uhhhhhh, what the fuck. WE JUST MIGHT have a good day on our hands. Of course, it's important that I don't acknowledge that and just do exactly what I'm told. My opening attempt, when I go out, I am taken aback by the crowd noise a bit. When I set up, I am not quite sure about head position and where I want to focus my eye sight. I hear only one person. I hear my husband. "LET'S GO JENNIFER", and set up, walk it out, and about halfway up I hear the crowd make a sound as if to say "put some weight on the bar". Three white lights. Second attempt, more confidence, easy, three white lights. I don't say shit to Wade or Aaron. Aaron just keeps telling me to keep everything the same. I'm thinking, what are they gonna call? It feels easy, but DO I HAVE more than 183kgs...can I really hit a lifetime PR on the platform?! Fuck it. They will make the right call. Just do your job. 185.5kgs. An American Record. An unofficial World Record. AND most importantly, a 400lb+ squat in sleeves, a LONG TIME goal of time. I walk out and the crowd is amazing. I hit the pocket, slow down a bit at the slowing down spot, the crowd comes in right on time, and I stand up with it. Three white lights. This may be my most favorite lift I've ever lifted. It was in this moment, that the real Jennifer Millican had made her debut on the powerlifting platform.
Bench. So, now I am unusually fired up. It's a different kind of fired up than I've felt before. I just hit a lifetime pr, that also happened to be an American Record and an Unofficial World record. TO BE CLEAR, I spent a lot of my lifting 'career' on breaking these sort of records. Like, my entire focus for many years was breaking these records. And the truth is, is that I didn't care at all about them IN THIS MOMENT in time. I just wanted to make attempts. And now, I'm thinking, well damn, what if bench follows suit?! And it turns out it did follow suit. I hit my opener at 100kgs (thank you very much failed attempts at Worlds). We jumped 7.5kgs to my second. My 57kg brain was nervous for this jump so I kept the option open to make the 5kg jump. My 57kg brain had no place in the 63kg weight class. I had hit ~110.5kgs in training. I thought it would be super cool if I hit 110 in the meet. After my second attempt at 107.5kg, Wade came up to me and said "We're gonna do what we came here to do" which I knew meant 112.5kgs. 57kg brain is like 'are we sure?!', the competitor brain is like 'just do your job'. So they load 112.5kg, a number that I told myself I would reach at the beginning of training but also seemed so far out of reach....BUT ALSO I knew I would make it. I knew I could grind if it came down to it, but I also knew I didn't need to based on my 2nd attempt. I didn't need to grind. My third attempt was just like every top end single in training only with more weight on the bar. And when I walk off the platform Wade looks at me at me says, 'that's right mother fucker!'. Now, I have two lifetime pr's under my belt AND I have the highest subtotal going into deads.
Deads. Deads are more of the same. I know this is where I fall short and I know I've pushed them as far as I can via subtotal. Now, I just need to put together some solid attempts and let the chips fall where they fall. As I mentioned earlier, deads have been lagging just a bit. Not horrible, but a little slower than the rest of my lifts. However, they did seem to show some response my last heavy session and the rest of the meet has me feeling optimistic. Did I feel magic during warm ups for deads? No. After squat and bench I got messages from a couple of my lifting homies. And they both meant a lot to me. They both had the same message. 'Just don't stop pulling!'. So, as far I as I was concerned I had done my job. I had reached the subtotal that I thought was out of reach. I knew going in as a 63kg, it was going to take a nearly perfect day and even after that the pull of a lifetime.
Third attempt dead.
First, I look at Aaron,
-Do I have time to pee?
-No
-Ok, dammit
Next...Wade comes to me and says
-All I need out of you is the pull of your life
-Ok, the pull of my life, got it
-I tried really hard and I peed everywhere
It was 202.5kgs and it would have tied me with the total that won. I would have lost on body weight ironically.
I spent this training cycle leveling up. Now, it's go time. The real Jennifer Millican is here to party.
As always, huge shout out to ApLyft, SBD, my coaches Aaron Thomas and Wade Johnson, my husband (the real mvp) Michael and all of my Team Ogre teamates and all of my GASOLINE!
I had decided long ago that I would be moving up a weight class regardless of what happened in Calgary. So that was not even a topic of discussion. A non-negotiable. The training cycle started super slow. All dumbbells all the time. I was pretty hesitant to get any sort of heavy weight in my hands at all because of how beat up I felt. I sandbagged for quite a bit even with primarily non-barbell movements. Eventually, I get called out by my coaches and decide it's time to quit playing.
Now, despite my hesitation to push, I was still optimistic (read: confident) about what I would be able to put up as a 63. Now, some of you reading may already know, but for those of you who don't, I'm gonna let a cat out of the bag. IT'S REALLY HARD FOR ME TO WEIGH LESS THAN 130 POUNDS. I don't care what my coaches say or how tall I am. For me to get/stay under 130lbs takes mucho discipline and I'm not talking about the showing up to the gym and getting through my training sessions and sticking with the plan 90% of the time discipline. I'm talking about 24 hours a day, 7 days a week of strict what am I eating/drinking, when am I gonna get cardio in, will I get a full 8 hours of sleep, what if I have to (or WANT TO) do something social kind of discipline. That's what it takes. And, quite honestly, I did it. For all intents and purposes, I DID THE DAMN THING. (see below)
When I decided to go full force into USA Powerlifting, I set out to win Nationals, go to Worlds, win, and move up to 63's. Well. I went to Nationals. I won the 57's. I won best female lifter. I went to Worlds. I won. I set two world records. I won best female lifter. The only thing I did not follow through on was moving up immediately. Do I regret it? The only glimmer of regret I have is staying in the 57's for another year. But I wouldn't change that first year for anything.
I only regret staying a 57 because I knew I was slipping. I knew my willingness to have the discipline required was fading. But I took the bait of the shininess of another title and shot at making history with a huge wilks. I went entirely against what my gut was telling me. I ain't just talking about hunger pangs. (insert hysterical laughing here)
Back to the subject at hand. I decide to quit playing, and I'm confident about the numbers I would be able to put up. I am confident because as soon as I step off the platform and exhale as a 57, my bodyweight jumps to 135lbs. I can linger around 135lbs with mild discipline. But still discipline nonetheless. With no real discipline and living my life like a regular person, I'm at the top of the weight class. So I know what training feels like when I'm hitting that beautiful stride. Only this time, I'm gonna take it up a notch.
Now, was training all rainbows and sausages? Not really. I was a little disappointed actually. Except for bench. Bench was bae the whole training cycle. Which I totally expected, but even with my high expectations, I was still impressed with how well bench was going. I kept waiting for the crash. There was no crash. It was glorious.
Squat was going pretty well. We came out of the gate of heavy training with 170kgs. From there (my perspective here), it was pretty lack luster. We inched the weight up, but not one session was magical or super confidence boosting. I spent weeks squatting a single at 180kgs. I had decided I would not go any heavier than that. About 2 or so weeks out, Aaron tells me to push it for real. So, I load 182.5kgs and it was pretty close to a max effort squat. So, (in my 57kg brain), I think, I'm probably good for MAYBE 180kgs or 183kgs for a national record at the meet and even that would be awesome.
Bench. As I said, bench was bae. Man, I don't even know what to tell you. It was just fire the whole time. We didn't get greedy. We did step up the frequency. I was doing some kind of pressing every session. I didn't rush or push any specific number. I really tried to walk a line. I thought because I had such trouble with bench at Worlds, missing 100kgs TWICE (hello fatigue), that if I could build a huge bench for Nats, it would really take my competitors by surprise (despite benching against the greatest bencher of all time). I knew where I fell short was the deadlift, so my strategy was to push the subtotal.
Deadlift. What a bitch. WHAT A BITCH. So real quick, when I said I was sick for most of the training cycle before, what was kicking my ass was shingles. It just kept coming back. I couldn't get over it. Shingles attacks the nervous system. And, uh, lifting heavy ass weights isn't exactly easy on the nervous system. Bad move on my part? Maybe. However, the show must go on. I kept waiting on my deadlift to show up. And it was taking it's sweet ass time. For real. Now, I am a shakey person. I get the shakes. Please watch any video ever. MY NERVES IS BAD Y'ALL. I knew that my deadlift wasn't turning the corner because I would start getting the shakes at much lower weights than usual. So, one thing I did for the entire training cycle was take supplements regularly. I read all this stuff (it may be witchcraft or a placebo but guess what? Idgaf) about how stress or things like shingles that attack the nervous system will strip you of vitamin B and minerals. Which will kick your immune system in the dick and you'll be sick forever (i.e me). So I order some b complex vitamins and liquid minerals (and liquid vitamin d plus k for good measure) because I am no bueno at taking pills and quite honestly I am so sick of feeling like shit. I kid you not, that I felt my real deadlift finally showed up at my last heavy session when I hit 195kgs. It wasn't until that session that I thought I might be able to pull enough to be in the running.
THE MEET.
I had some thirds in mind. I was *somewhat* confident on my stretch goals for thirds. But all I knew for sure is what my first and seconds were and I didn't care what they loaded for thirds. I was just going to make them. What you have to understand is my expectations are set in the mind of a woman who has been at a caloric deficit for weeks (months?) and who is coming down to the wire on body weight. I know enough to know that meet day is a different ballgame and that expectations need to be kept in check.
I am warming up for squats and think....uhhhhhh, what the fuck. WE JUST MIGHT have a good day on our hands. Of course, it's important that I don't acknowledge that and just do exactly what I'm told. My opening attempt, when I go out, I am taken aback by the crowd noise a bit. When I set up, I am not quite sure about head position and where I want to focus my eye sight. I hear only one person. I hear my husband. "LET'S GO JENNIFER", and set up, walk it out, and about halfway up I hear the crowd make a sound as if to say "put some weight on the bar". Three white lights. Second attempt, more confidence, easy, three white lights. I don't say shit to Wade or Aaron. Aaron just keeps telling me to keep everything the same. I'm thinking, what are they gonna call? It feels easy, but DO I HAVE more than 183kgs...can I really hit a lifetime PR on the platform?! Fuck it. They will make the right call. Just do your job. 185.5kgs. An American Record. An unofficial World Record. AND most importantly, a 400lb+ squat in sleeves, a LONG TIME goal of time. I walk out and the crowd is amazing. I hit the pocket, slow down a bit at the slowing down spot, the crowd comes in right on time, and I stand up with it. Three white lights. This may be my most favorite lift I've ever lifted. It was in this moment, that the real Jennifer Millican had made her debut on the powerlifting platform.
Bench. So, now I am unusually fired up. It's a different kind of fired up than I've felt before. I just hit a lifetime pr, that also happened to be an American Record and an Unofficial World record. TO BE CLEAR, I spent a lot of my lifting 'career' on breaking these sort of records. Like, my entire focus for many years was breaking these records. And the truth is, is that I didn't care at all about them IN THIS MOMENT in time. I just wanted to make attempts. And now, I'm thinking, well damn, what if bench follows suit?! And it turns out it did follow suit. I hit my opener at 100kgs (thank you very much failed attempts at Worlds). We jumped 7.5kgs to my second. My 57kg brain was nervous for this jump so I kept the option open to make the 5kg jump. My 57kg brain had no place in the 63kg weight class. I had hit ~110.5kgs in training. I thought it would be super cool if I hit 110 in the meet. After my second attempt at 107.5kg, Wade came up to me and said "We're gonna do what we came here to do" which I knew meant 112.5kgs. 57kg brain is like 'are we sure?!', the competitor brain is like 'just do your job'. So they load 112.5kg, a number that I told myself I would reach at the beginning of training but also seemed so far out of reach....BUT ALSO I knew I would make it. I knew I could grind if it came down to it, but I also knew I didn't need to based on my 2nd attempt. I didn't need to grind. My third attempt was just like every top end single in training only with more weight on the bar. And when I walk off the platform Wade looks at me at me says, 'that's right mother fucker!'. Now, I have two lifetime pr's under my belt AND I have the highest subtotal going into deads.
Deads. Deads are more of the same. I know this is where I fall short and I know I've pushed them as far as I can via subtotal. Now, I just need to put together some solid attempts and let the chips fall where they fall. As I mentioned earlier, deads have been lagging just a bit. Not horrible, but a little slower than the rest of my lifts. However, they did seem to show some response my last heavy session and the rest of the meet has me feeling optimistic. Did I feel magic during warm ups for deads? No. After squat and bench I got messages from a couple of my lifting homies. And they both meant a lot to me. They both had the same message. 'Just don't stop pulling!'. So, as far I as I was concerned I had done my job. I had reached the subtotal that I thought was out of reach. I knew going in as a 63kg, it was going to take a nearly perfect day and even after that the pull of a lifetime.
Third attempt dead.
First, I look at Aaron,
-Do I have time to pee?
-No
-Ok, dammit
Next...Wade comes to me and says
-All I need out of you is the pull of your life
-Ok, the pull of my life, got it
-I tried really hard and I peed everywhere
It was 202.5kgs and it would have tied me with the total that won. I would have lost on body weight ironically.
I spent this training cycle leveling up. Now, it's go time. The real Jennifer Millican is here to party.
As always, huge shout out to ApLyft, SBD, my coaches Aaron Thomas and Wade Johnson, my husband (the real mvp) Michael and all of my Team Ogre teamates and all of my GASOLINE!
Sunday, October 7, 2018
Becoming Friends with The Monsters
As a child, I was the kid who tried too hard. I went all out in P.E. I remembered the quiz no one else did. I actually tried really hard at school projects. Up until about the 6th grade. Then I got the vibe that trying really hard didn't make me "cool". Seeming as if you didn't care made you more popular. As an adult, I can see that my perspective was skewed and that my priorities needed shifting. None of that matters now. The point is, I stuffed my effort down and hid it so my peers would like me more.
This became who I was. I did enough to get by but never giving any real effort. There was one exception. Sports. I did give every ounce of effort in that arena. That effort is what people would call "heart". I was pretty good too. Some times, not quite good enough. In basketball for instance, I was an incredible defender and was FAST, really fast. However, I was/am 5ft tall and didn't have a great shot. My signature move was to make a steal, make a fast break away from my opponents, be all alone at my basket and miss the lay up. I couldn't take the pressure of making the shot. In the 7th grade I played the entire summer the with school team. Just before the season started, I was cut. It hurt, but I knew it was coming. My coach was great and I think it hurt her more than me. I tried out for the next two years and never did make the team.
I played softball as well. Softball was my sport. Basketball was really my side gig. I played short stop and nothing could get past me. I would beg my father or brother or grandmother or anyone with a pulse to come outside and throw with me or hit grounders to me incessantly. When that well was dried up I would throw the ball against the house and field the grounder over and over or throw pop flies to myself. Unlike basketball, my offensive game was just as strong as my defensive game. Not only was I fast, but I could hit the ball. I only ever played little league, I never got into serious travel teams or private lessons or anything like that. I made the team when I tried out for high school.
Playing on the high school team was not the glory I expected. I wasn't used to pitchers who pitched with actual strategy. As a player, I was a little rough around the edges compared to the players who had more experience at higher levels than I. I got A LOT of coaching. Everything about how I threw, my batting stance, how I held the bat, how I slid, was all changed....and the worst change of all, making me bunt. I wish I could tell you that I withstood the pressure and came out one of the best players. But I didn't. I couldn't handle it. I found myself completely overthinking everything I did to the point of paralysis. I was cut my sophomore year. This one did crush me. I was so mad at my coach. I was so mad at myself. I was so mad at my parents.
Life went on after that. I attempted to come back to no avail. I went on giving a mediocre effort for the rest of my life. Wearing a scarlet letter of one who can't perform under pressure. One who is good but will choke. One who is not coachable.
Flash forward to 25 year old Jennifer. I was pregnant with my first child. My whole life I thought when I have a baby, I want to have the baby naturally. I don't know why but I just did. So, that was my plan. Well, that is apparently controversial. I don't get it, but everyone's opinion came flooding in about it. Family, friends, strangers, would all tell me horror stories or laugh at me when I told them, medical professionals rolling their eyes, I was quite astounded honestly. And hurt. And stressed out. And felt an immense amount of pressure. I felt myself thinking about who I was and how I fail. How I let people down. How I don't perform under pressure. And I hated that feeling.
Well, it's a long story, and a story for another time or maybe never, but aside from labor being induced, I was able to have her naturally. And that day, something changed. That day, I believed that I was not a person who always failed. That day, I believed in myself. That day, I trusted myself. That day, I realized that even if something is really, really, really hard, I could still do it. A great catalyst for parenting. I hesitate to use the word empowering because it has become a somewhat cliche buzzword, but in every sense of it's meaning, that day, I truly felt empowered. That day, I felt my true self had finally surfaced (oxytocin is a hell of a hormone).
This was the first building block in becoming friends with my monsters.
Flash forward again to 31ish year old Jennifer. My life was in a dark place. I needed to get out. I wasn't sure how but I was really just sick of it. And angry. Really really angry. Mostly at myself and at everyone. I needed to prove to myself that I was still lovable. Somehow, this turned into extreme independence (#poweryourown). I just thought that I would only rely solely on myself and no one else. If I wanted something done I would discuss with no one, ask no one's permission or opinion and just attack it. I also shut out just about everyone in my life. I finally looked inward and stared down every insecurity I had. I took everything that I stuffed down in the 6th grade and slowly began to attack each one.
I had a not so great record with consistency and commitment. I would often give effort in spurts. Procrastination was my primary motivator. When I cut to 114lb I faced this monster head on. One day during the cut, I decided that no matter what, I was going to stick with the plan. While doing cardio I was thinking about how I had some function coming up that was going to require some effort on my end to stick to the diet. At first, I began rationalizing. I would only eat one thing off the plan. I would only drink one beer and cut carbs from here or there. I would eat dessert but do extra cardio later. Then I was finally like, fuck it. I'm going to stick to the plan and make it work. NO MATTER WHAT. And I did. And I was successful. Another building block. Another monster that I became friends with.
So, I made the commitment to making the cut. I consistently stuck with the nutrition and training no matter what. I felt confident. When I made this cut, I was going after an all time total record in wraps. While doing cardio (where I do all of my profound thinking), I would think about attempts. I would see myself going to the bar for the attempts. Then I would get so scared. I would feel so nervous that I would shut my thoughts down. I would move on to thinking about something else because it felt too scary. It showed come meet day. I cut my third squat high. The weight moved so fast and so easy. Without a third squat, the total was out of range. I beat myself. I was poised to break that record. I was strong enough. I let disbelief beat me. I was so angry at myself but also so hungry for redemption.
For my next meet, I made a deal with my online coach that I would do a USAPL meet if one popped up close to me. Well, one did. So I kept my word and began training for the meet. Now, I was just red lighted in an SPF meet for squats. I told one of my training partners that I was going to do a USAPL meet and he said "what if you bomb?", I said, fear is not the master of my sea. But I was scared. I've been asked what I did to start squatting deeper and honestly I didn't do anything. I just started squatting deeper. Every time I had a bar on my back, I would cue myself, "as deep as you can every rep". I was a little stressed about my depth every training session but I just kept squatting as deep as I could every time. Because this meet wasn't "serious" and just to appease my coach, I didn't bother looking at any records. This was the first meet I had done without wraps. My mind just wasn't in the space of crushing any numbers or anything like that. Until my squat starting taking off. I started getting excited. I looked at the records. I had a really solid chance at a squat record and a total record. Just about as soon as I realized that, my arm quit working. My right arm just gave out. On bench, anything above 150lbs or so and my right arm quit.
Well, here I was again, poised to take some records. And poof, just like that, it was gone. My bench took a 50lb hit. Now, I could have quit. I could have said, I'll get em next time when I'm healthy. But I couldn't. I had come too far. I was too invested. I gave too much. Because I had become friends with that commitment monster, I still planned to do the meet. But I let go of the records. I let go of any number at all. I let go of my ego. I went to the meet with only my husband. The lightest I've ever rolled into a meet. I didn't know anything about the USAPL or the meet I was doing. I expected maybe 40-50 lifters. There were 300. We had no idea what we were doing.
Choosing attempts that day, I just went with what I thought I could make. Nothing was really planned other than openers. I went 7/9. I totaled far under what I thought I would. But I did what I was capable of THAT DAY. I accepted that. I had fun. Still the one of the most enjoyable meets I've ever done. I made 9 white lights on squat. I took an unofficial American squat record. I won best lifter. That day, I became friends with the monster called ego and a sprinkle of redemption.
Next meet. Healthy meet. With wraps. Time to crush shit. I took all my monsters by their hand and carried them with me. I took them all with me through the entire next training cycle. We went to the meet. We crushed it. We did the Women's Pro/Am. I was poised to take some records again. Except this time, I wasn't worried about them. If they were there, they were there and we'd take them. If they weren't, we'd take what we had. I took the all time squat record (at the time) at 123lb and was 15lbs shy of the total record. I went 8/9. I won best raw lifter. The spark I felt that day when I had my daughter returned. I added self doubt to the monsters I was friends with.
From here, I went on to do raw nationals. I felt extremely confident. I thrived on the fact that no one really knew who I was. I thrived on the idea that they thought my bench was what it was with a dead arm. This meet was just about getting a job done. A job that was required to achieve the ultimate goal of becoming an IPF World Champ. I got the job done and won the 57kg weight class. I went 8/9. I took the American squat and total record. I won best female lifter. The competitor that I knew existed within me began to break through. That day, I executed. I became friends with that monster.
Next meet was The Arnold. I regressed a little here. I reverted back to my old ways of chasing numbers and records. That's ok, it was right on time. I learned again that winning isn't about records or arbitrary numbers. Winning is about execution. Winning is about stacking up attempts and ego has no place.
So now, I begin training for THE MEET. I began training for IPF Worlds. Everything that I ever stuffed down was out in full force. If there was a component to my success that I could control, I had complete control of it. Training, nutrition, sleep, what I posted, what I didn't post, strategy, anything and everything that I could control, I did. And I did with precision.
There was one monster left. Self belief. I found myself again, doing cardio, thinking about the meet. Thinking about winning. I was scared. I felt nervous. Questioning my capabilities. Who I am to be great at something? I fail. I get so close to accomplishing something and choke. I don't travel well. What if I bomb? I never make third bench attempts. Being great is not who I am. It's who other people are. People who are just born great. That's not me.
Only this time, I went head on with these thoughts. Instead of distracting myself or ignoring these thoughts, I challenged every single one. I thought about who I was and what I had done. Instead of dwelling on my shortcomings, I embraced my successes. I began to control my thoughts I refused to think poorly of myself. I refused to have negative self talk. I refused to settle for mediocrity. I would see myself standing on the podium and felt the feeling of nervousness, and pressure. I let it wash over me. I allowed myself to embrace the idea of being the best at something.
Cardio became a sacred time. I would let my thoughts be free and when they began to go down the path of self doubt, like a good friend, I would guide them off that path. I would say to myself, "my name is Jennifer Millican, and I am an IPF World Champion". I felt nervous even saying it in my mind. But I just kept at it. I kept guiding myself into believing that I was capable of greatness.
I was driving. Again, feeling overwhelmed with pressure and nervousness to win. Then, I did something that seemed so silly. It felt so uncomfortable and took a few tries. But eventually, I said it out loud. At first quiet, and mouse like. By the time I reached my destination, I was saying in a commanding, stern tone, "MY NAME IS JENNIFER MILLICAN AND I AM AN IPF WORLD CHAMPION". It was in this moment that I became friends with the monster of self belief.
I went on to IPF Worlds. And I did it. I won. I won my weight class. I took the world record squat and world record total. I won best overall female lifter. I believed that I could be great. I became friends with my greatest monster, myself. I revealed who I buried in the 6th grade. I've never felt more humbled in my life.
There are ebbs and flows in life. That was a definite high. I often feel sad it's over. That type of self discovery is immeasurable. Though, I'm positive there are plenty of challenges ahead and while at times I feel as though I have conquered all my monsters, I have no doubt there are still more lingering in the darkness. I say, bring it on.
This became who I was. I did enough to get by but never giving any real effort. There was one exception. Sports. I did give every ounce of effort in that arena. That effort is what people would call "heart". I was pretty good too. Some times, not quite good enough. In basketball for instance, I was an incredible defender and was FAST, really fast. However, I was/am 5ft tall and didn't have a great shot. My signature move was to make a steal, make a fast break away from my opponents, be all alone at my basket and miss the lay up. I couldn't take the pressure of making the shot. In the 7th grade I played the entire summer the with school team. Just before the season started, I was cut. It hurt, but I knew it was coming. My coach was great and I think it hurt her more than me. I tried out for the next two years and never did make the team.
I played softball as well. Softball was my sport. Basketball was really my side gig. I played short stop and nothing could get past me. I would beg my father or brother or grandmother or anyone with a pulse to come outside and throw with me or hit grounders to me incessantly. When that well was dried up I would throw the ball against the house and field the grounder over and over or throw pop flies to myself. Unlike basketball, my offensive game was just as strong as my defensive game. Not only was I fast, but I could hit the ball. I only ever played little league, I never got into serious travel teams or private lessons or anything like that. I made the team when I tried out for high school.
Playing on the high school team was not the glory I expected. I wasn't used to pitchers who pitched with actual strategy. As a player, I was a little rough around the edges compared to the players who had more experience at higher levels than I. I got A LOT of coaching. Everything about how I threw, my batting stance, how I held the bat, how I slid, was all changed....and the worst change of all, making me bunt. I wish I could tell you that I withstood the pressure and came out one of the best players. But I didn't. I couldn't handle it. I found myself completely overthinking everything I did to the point of paralysis. I was cut my sophomore year. This one did crush me. I was so mad at my coach. I was so mad at myself. I was so mad at my parents.
Life went on after that. I attempted to come back to no avail. I went on giving a mediocre effort for the rest of my life. Wearing a scarlet letter of one who can't perform under pressure. One who is good but will choke. One who is not coachable.
Flash forward to 25 year old Jennifer. I was pregnant with my first child. My whole life I thought when I have a baby, I want to have the baby naturally. I don't know why but I just did. So, that was my plan. Well, that is apparently controversial. I don't get it, but everyone's opinion came flooding in about it. Family, friends, strangers, would all tell me horror stories or laugh at me when I told them, medical professionals rolling their eyes, I was quite astounded honestly. And hurt. And stressed out. And felt an immense amount of pressure. I felt myself thinking about who I was and how I fail. How I let people down. How I don't perform under pressure. And I hated that feeling.
Well, it's a long story, and a story for another time or maybe never, but aside from labor being induced, I was able to have her naturally. And that day, something changed. That day, I believed that I was not a person who always failed. That day, I believed in myself. That day, I trusted myself. That day, I realized that even if something is really, really, really hard, I could still do it. A great catalyst for parenting. I hesitate to use the word empowering because it has become a somewhat cliche buzzword, but in every sense of it's meaning, that day, I truly felt empowered. That day, I felt my true self had finally surfaced (oxytocin is a hell of a hormone).
This was the first building block in becoming friends with my monsters.
Flash forward again to 31ish year old Jennifer. My life was in a dark place. I needed to get out. I wasn't sure how but I was really just sick of it. And angry. Really really angry. Mostly at myself and at everyone. I needed to prove to myself that I was still lovable. Somehow, this turned into extreme independence (#poweryourown). I just thought that I would only rely solely on myself and no one else. If I wanted something done I would discuss with no one, ask no one's permission or opinion and just attack it. I also shut out just about everyone in my life. I finally looked inward and stared down every insecurity I had. I took everything that I stuffed down in the 6th grade and slowly began to attack each one.
I had a not so great record with consistency and commitment. I would often give effort in spurts. Procrastination was my primary motivator. When I cut to 114lb I faced this monster head on. One day during the cut, I decided that no matter what, I was going to stick with the plan. While doing cardio I was thinking about how I had some function coming up that was going to require some effort on my end to stick to the diet. At first, I began rationalizing. I would only eat one thing off the plan. I would only drink one beer and cut carbs from here or there. I would eat dessert but do extra cardio later. Then I was finally like, fuck it. I'm going to stick to the plan and make it work. NO MATTER WHAT. And I did. And I was successful. Another building block. Another monster that I became friends with.
So, I made the commitment to making the cut. I consistently stuck with the nutrition and training no matter what. I felt confident. When I made this cut, I was going after an all time total record in wraps. While doing cardio (where I do all of my profound thinking), I would think about attempts. I would see myself going to the bar for the attempts. Then I would get so scared. I would feel so nervous that I would shut my thoughts down. I would move on to thinking about something else because it felt too scary. It showed come meet day. I cut my third squat high. The weight moved so fast and so easy. Without a third squat, the total was out of range. I beat myself. I was poised to break that record. I was strong enough. I let disbelief beat me. I was so angry at myself but also so hungry for redemption.
For my next meet, I made a deal with my online coach that I would do a USAPL meet if one popped up close to me. Well, one did. So I kept my word and began training for the meet. Now, I was just red lighted in an SPF meet for squats. I told one of my training partners that I was going to do a USAPL meet and he said "what if you bomb?", I said, fear is not the master of my sea. But I was scared. I've been asked what I did to start squatting deeper and honestly I didn't do anything. I just started squatting deeper. Every time I had a bar on my back, I would cue myself, "as deep as you can every rep". I was a little stressed about my depth every training session but I just kept squatting as deep as I could every time. Because this meet wasn't "serious" and just to appease my coach, I didn't bother looking at any records. This was the first meet I had done without wraps. My mind just wasn't in the space of crushing any numbers or anything like that. Until my squat starting taking off. I started getting excited. I looked at the records. I had a really solid chance at a squat record and a total record. Just about as soon as I realized that, my arm quit working. My right arm just gave out. On bench, anything above 150lbs or so and my right arm quit.
Well, here I was again, poised to take some records. And poof, just like that, it was gone. My bench took a 50lb hit. Now, I could have quit. I could have said, I'll get em next time when I'm healthy. But I couldn't. I had come too far. I was too invested. I gave too much. Because I had become friends with that commitment monster, I still planned to do the meet. But I let go of the records. I let go of any number at all. I let go of my ego. I went to the meet with only my husband. The lightest I've ever rolled into a meet. I didn't know anything about the USAPL or the meet I was doing. I expected maybe 40-50 lifters. There were 300. We had no idea what we were doing.
Choosing attempts that day, I just went with what I thought I could make. Nothing was really planned other than openers. I went 7/9. I totaled far under what I thought I would. But I did what I was capable of THAT DAY. I accepted that. I had fun. Still the one of the most enjoyable meets I've ever done. I made 9 white lights on squat. I took an unofficial American squat record. I won best lifter. That day, I became friends with the monster called ego and a sprinkle of redemption.
Next meet. Healthy meet. With wraps. Time to crush shit. I took all my monsters by their hand and carried them with me. I took them all with me through the entire next training cycle. We went to the meet. We crushed it. We did the Women's Pro/Am. I was poised to take some records again. Except this time, I wasn't worried about them. If they were there, they were there and we'd take them. If they weren't, we'd take what we had. I took the all time squat record (at the time) at 123lb and was 15lbs shy of the total record. I went 8/9. I won best raw lifter. The spark I felt that day when I had my daughter returned. I added self doubt to the monsters I was friends with.
From here, I went on to do raw nationals. I felt extremely confident. I thrived on the fact that no one really knew who I was. I thrived on the idea that they thought my bench was what it was with a dead arm. This meet was just about getting a job done. A job that was required to achieve the ultimate goal of becoming an IPF World Champ. I got the job done and won the 57kg weight class. I went 8/9. I took the American squat and total record. I won best female lifter. The competitor that I knew existed within me began to break through. That day, I executed. I became friends with that monster.
Next meet was The Arnold. I regressed a little here. I reverted back to my old ways of chasing numbers and records. That's ok, it was right on time. I learned again that winning isn't about records or arbitrary numbers. Winning is about execution. Winning is about stacking up attempts and ego has no place.
So now, I begin training for THE MEET. I began training for IPF Worlds. Everything that I ever stuffed down was out in full force. If there was a component to my success that I could control, I had complete control of it. Training, nutrition, sleep, what I posted, what I didn't post, strategy, anything and everything that I could control, I did. And I did with precision.
There was one monster left. Self belief. I found myself again, doing cardio, thinking about the meet. Thinking about winning. I was scared. I felt nervous. Questioning my capabilities. Who I am to be great at something? I fail. I get so close to accomplishing something and choke. I don't travel well. What if I bomb? I never make third bench attempts. Being great is not who I am. It's who other people are. People who are just born great. That's not me.
Only this time, I went head on with these thoughts. Instead of distracting myself or ignoring these thoughts, I challenged every single one. I thought about who I was and what I had done. Instead of dwelling on my shortcomings, I embraced my successes. I began to control my thoughts I refused to think poorly of myself. I refused to have negative self talk. I refused to settle for mediocrity. I would see myself standing on the podium and felt the feeling of nervousness, and pressure. I let it wash over me. I allowed myself to embrace the idea of being the best at something.
Cardio became a sacred time. I would let my thoughts be free and when they began to go down the path of self doubt, like a good friend, I would guide them off that path. I would say to myself, "my name is Jennifer Millican, and I am an IPF World Champion". I felt nervous even saying it in my mind. But I just kept at it. I kept guiding myself into believing that I was capable of greatness.
I was driving. Again, feeling overwhelmed with pressure and nervousness to win. Then, I did something that seemed so silly. It felt so uncomfortable and took a few tries. But eventually, I said it out loud. At first quiet, and mouse like. By the time I reached my destination, I was saying in a commanding, stern tone, "MY NAME IS JENNIFER MILLICAN AND I AM AN IPF WORLD CHAMPION". It was in this moment that I became friends with the monster of self belief.
I went on to IPF Worlds. And I did it. I won. I won my weight class. I took the world record squat and world record total. I won best overall female lifter. I believed that I could be great. I became friends with my greatest monster, myself. I revealed who I buried in the 6th grade. I've never felt more humbled in my life.
There are ebbs and flows in life. That was a definite high. I often feel sad it's over. That type of self discovery is immeasurable. Though, I'm positive there are plenty of challenges ahead and while at times I feel as though I have conquered all my monsters, I have no doubt there are still more lingering in the darkness. I say, bring it on.
Wednesday, July 4, 2018
#3strengthsports and what it means to me
Let’s just say when it comes to social media, I am a bit
behind the curve. My son, Wes, actually created my Myspace page back in the day
and helped me learn how to use it. I got Facebook many years later and it’s
probably only been the last couple of years that I have an Instagram account
and now have one for the gym and the gym dogs. I have had to have help from
Cory Jean, Jenn and Missy to figure out how it works. I have only in the last
year started using hashtags. I only bring this up to explain the title and take
you along a little ride where 3 strength sports came to be. Now, I use the
hashtags to get like minded people to see our videos and to promote the gym.
From there, I have no clue and I’m really ok with that. But first, a rewind…let
me take you back to how this came to be and hopefully, it illustrates the
pathway and how my mind works and how my goals were set.
When I was a kid, you would see bodybuilding and then
powerlifting on TV. It’s how I learned who Larry Pacifico and Kaz was. I
remember seeing them on TV in powerlifting and then Larry commentating and Kaz
on WSM. My Dad always enjoy watching Alekseyev in weightlifting so, my
influence was very broad. Music was the same and I’ve always liked having that
broad base to draw from. Growing up, with music, my Dad loved Hee Haw and that
was where I learned about country music. It was years later, I was on tour with
a band and got to do a show and meet Buck Owens. On mornings I wasn’t in school, Don Ho had a
tv show. I can’t recall the theme or what time or even what it was called but,
I saw him sing Tiny Bubbles on tv. Years later, I played the Don Ho theater and
got to see him sing it live. My Mom was
a big American Band stand fan and so was I It is where I got to see and hear
all the new and current pop bands. I always love Soul Train and it hurt my soul
when Don Cornelius passed. TO me, he was so cool and I was very influenced by
R&B and the such. This gives you a picture of how broad-based music was for
me and that just scratches the surface. I tell you this to help you understand
my though processes and how I operate. I pull from as many sources I can learn
from and find influence and inspiration.
As a kid, I was always amazed by size and strength and has
influenced me to be as big and as strong as I can be. The nick names have been
earned through out the years. Seeing bodybuilding, powerliflting, weightlifting
and strongman made me always want to try it. I spent most of my early years and
early adult life pursuing my music career and I was very lucky to travel,
create and record music and be published. The passion I had for music
eventually went back to strength and I found powerlifting again. It’s always
been my home for strength and the back bone of what I currently do. That said,
I have always been interested in and have trained the Olympic lifts and dabbled
in strongman. I made up my mind that I would eventually compete in both sports.
Many years ago, Wes and I drove to West TN and did a strongman practice. Back
in those days, no one had implements. You would have to drive somewhere to a
gym or competitor that owned them and they were very hard to come by. I
remember Willie Wessells trying to convince me that the log clean and press was
like the weightlifting he had seen me do…I was a fish out of water. Hand over
had I was seemingly good at but, I am terrible now. I did some medley work and
even flipped a car. It wasn’t long after a pal of mine Hunter Allen had some
implements and we’d train locally when I could. I finally competed, I believe,
in 2004 at the Music City strongman. Wes and I competed in the amateur
division. I can’t recall how many competitors there were but, Wes placed 4th
overall in the heavy weights as they combined teens, masters and open amateurs.
I was lucky enough to win. This is also where I met Clint Darden who tried to
convince me to pursue the sport at the pro level. Powerlifting was home for me
but, this put the thought in my head that when I achieved my goals in
powerlifting, I wanted to come back and try it again.
I eventually achieved what I set out to do in powerlifting I
had broken the 1,000 lb barrier int eh squat, benched 700 and deadlifted 700
and totaled 2,400. While I am likely never to be done powerlifting, I set out
to achieve some new goals. In 2012 I competed in my first 2 weightlifting
meets. I honestly can’t recall what I lifted but, I enjoyed it and thought I
eventually get around to trying to do a national meet. When Missy and I decided
that she liked me, we would do training dates. She wanted to do weightlifting
as well so, we’d train together and eventually, she did her first meet in 2014.
We both did 3 meets together in 2015. I was able to win gold at nationals,
silver at Pan-Ams and Gold at the World cup. I considered that job completed
and went back to training powerlifting full time.
My first ever online training client, Thad Forehand, hired
me to coach him in powerlifting. We had a string of successful meets with his
last 2 meets going 9-9 and I was excited to see what would happen next as he
had made great progress and that’s when he said, I wanna go back to
strongman…in so many words. So, he kept me on as coach and we have had a long
and successful run. In 2016, he competed in Louisville at the USS masters
strongman nationals. So, Missy and I drove up and spent the weekend and watched
and coached and I was like, hey, I could do this…Missy did as well. So, the
following year I drove out to Clayton, NC where Thad and I competed together
and both qualified for nationals in Detroit. I started training for nationals
December and trained hard and was ready…about 2 weeks out, after training 6
months, we got the notice that Jenn’s start time had changed for her
powerlifting meet…see, she was competing in the IPF worlds and that meet took
place in Belarus. Let’s just say getting there and back again is harder than it
might seem. The time change meant I couldn’t leave on Thursday after she
competed and would have to leave the next morning. Longer story short, it meant
I wouldn’t be able to compete as I couldn’t be there during the scheduled weigh
in times. So, after Jenn won worlds, I flew back, which was a crazy trip from
Belarus to Warsaw, where I was delayed and then to Chicago where it flew off
the rails and they changed my gate as I got the one I was told where it was and
ran back and missed the flight by 2 minutes. They were going to put me in a
hotel and could fly me out at about 10:30 am the next day…so, I spent the night
in the airport, flew out on another airline the next morning at 5 and Thad’s
lovely wife Lisa, scooped me up in Detroit and I got to coach Thad and Missy
that day. while it was a disappointment not to get to compete, I’d trade that
100 times over to get to coach and watch Jenn when her first IPF world title.
It was a lot of training and I needed an outlet so, I competed in a USAPL
qualifier and finished the year competing at Classic nationals later that year.
Earlier this year, Missy and I traveled to Kentucky and
competed in Lee Woody’s contest to qualify for nationals again. Missy killed it
and I struggled but, managed to qualify which, that was really the only goal. I
was undertrained and not really prepared. For me, life is pretty busy these
days and I’m blessed and grateful for it. It leaves the tank a little empty and
motivation not where it needs to be to train and be fully prepared. Getting
ready for nationals was no different. When I competed at USAPL nationals, I
figured I had done it and checked it off the list. I was wrong. I got notified
that I had earned an alternate spot on the M2 world team and trained as if I
was lifting until I was released. Prep for strongman nationals was medium to
say the least. But, I worked at it. Events were to be circus dumbbell clean and
press for reps, car deadlift, medley of tire flip and sled drag, arm over arm
with a panel truck weighted and stones.
Briefly, I have owned a circus dumbbell for some time but,
would only occasionally get it out and press it. We got Missy one as well. I
got to where I could do a rep with the contest weight of 140 and thought, well,
at least I won’t zero the event and can score a point. Car deadlift I felt
decent about. I do a lot of block pulls for training and we have a pal, Bull at
Jut Be Fit, that has the implement. I thought I might be a threat for a win in
this event. I have tired and sleds and trained but, I wasn’t sure how that
event would go. I’m a big boy and honestly, did not put in enough time training
cardio or moving events. Hand over hand is tough as we need help to do it and
my drive way is not conducive. We’ve done it a few times with our vehicles but,
this was one I just didn’t want to zero. And stones would finish up and I hate
stones. I am terrible at them. So, that meant, I rarely trained them….most
times, Saturday is when I can train them and I have a crew that trains in the
morning and by the time I’m done at that time of the week, I am cooked. I did
train the event but, not near enough to even b e a threat. I was hoping not to
zero. Call it ego, call it whatever you like but, I have always felt like getting
a national title in strongman, even if at 50+, would be quite the feather in my
cap. Hence, 3 strength sports. I want the folks that choose me to coach them
and handle them feel like I have the experience and that I know what I’m doing
and all the things that go along with that. And to be honest, I want to win and
see how I match up.
So, it is finally contest day but wait, another rewind.
Missy and I plan our trip way in advance. We are going to fly out at 2 pom and get there
even before Thad and Lisa and we will eat and be merry. That morning, lots of
bad storms and we thought we’d be delayed. Eventually, we were but only by 30
minutes. We get the call to board, we get seated and locked in and about the
time I get buckled in, we are called to get off the plane. We are being delayed
due to bad weather in New York. Long story short, it’s about 10:30 when we
land, not 7:30. We take a shuttle to another shuttle to get us to a car rental
and then drive from LaGuardia to White Plains and it’s midnight by the time we
get checked in and thank God for late hour pizza places. Those are the things
that can derail you and Missy and I seemed to take it in stride so back to
finally it’s contest day and as per usual, I am ill as a hornet. I don’t know
why it is. Most meet days, I no longer want to do it. I have trained, and I’m
tired and I’m old and all the reasons and the anxiety of getting to the meet
site and so forth makes me, say, pretty grumpy. Once I get into the flow of
warming up, I’m good but, up until that point not so much. That morning was no
exception. Once we get there, Thad, Missy and I go our separate ways and find
our stations. I only see them occasionally during the day. There are 391
athletes and then probably 100+ staff so, it’s crowded and hectic and busy. I
met my competitors Mike and Mel and as per usual in the strength world, by the
time we’ve sat there for 5 minutes, we’re pals and in short, cheer each other
along and encourage and push each other.
Event 1 was circus dumbbell clean and press. Our contest
weight was 140 lbs. Initially, it was to be a 2” handle which is what my
dumbbell in the gym was. That worked out well as I already owned it. The rules
were clean with two hands, steady it, press with one hand, show control and get
the down command and then you couldn’t drop it, you had to control it down,
touch the ground with it and then go back up. When we got there it was a 3”
handle and that was a mess for all 3 of us. It’s just how it goes in strongman.
Sometimes changes occur and they are unannounced and you have to adjust on the
fly. Mike and Mel struggled with this and couldn’t get a rep and that worked
out well for me. I only needed one rep. It was awkward in warm ups and I did
the empty dumbbell a few times, then 120 a couple of times to get the feel. I
did manage the rep I needed to win the event and stopped there. There was no
need in more. That put me ahead 3-0-0 and that would prove the difference on
this day.
Event 2 was the car deadlift. The pick height was 14” with
the bar in front and not the side. We trained with the implement twice during
the cycle so, I felt I could get reps at the contest. I had pulled Missy’s
Xterra motor end loaded for reps so I was feeling confident. I have no idea
what the weight was as we had a car. I did 2 reps to warm beltless and felt
great. Mike pulled 6 reps, Mel 9…so, I needed 10. They gave me a count and once
I reached 10, I stopped and took the points. It was 6-2-1.
Event 3 was tire flip and sled drag. I had really trained
the flip and felt confident. I had dragged the sled on our gravel driveway with
several hundred pounds but, this is strongman and things happen. Mike and Mel
finished the event so I knew I would have to have a good time to win. The
initial flip was great and when I went for the 2nd, my hands slipped
completely and I injured my hand. I just got a bad flip and had a smooth area.
I managed to flip it and then the 3rd flip went well and then again,
bad grip area and I had to grip from the side to get any grip. I had to stand
it up and then run to the sled. I knew at this point I couldn’t beat the times
from the guys so I stopped and conserved energy. We got the announcement that
we had to complete the tire flip portion to not zero so, once that was secure,
I took the point and moved on. Now it was 7 me, Mel 5 and Mike 2. I new this
could get tight as I am terrible at hand over hand.
Event 4 was hand over hand. This was to be a 2” rope and
turned out to be 3”. At this point, my right hand is throbbing and I’m
concerned. Mike almost finished the pull, then Mel did finish but, I knew the y
had worked really hard and that it might play in my favor. When I stated the
event and I wasn’t going nearly as fast, I stopped to give my hand a break and
hopefully recover for stones. It proved to play out in my favor. Score was me
8, Mel 8 and Mike 4. I knew I had 2nd but, could I pull the win off.
Last and event 5 was the stones. I am not a fan. Tacky and
clothes covered in tacky and ultimately, I’m not very good at them. We were
reportedly going to start with a 250 so I knew I could load that but, as things
happen in strongman, they changed the weights. So, we started with a 275. Mike
went first and loaded the 1st and 2nd which I believe was
a 300. Mel is tall, so I figured he’d load the 275 quickly and we would see
what he had left for the 300. As I stated previously, Mel worked really hard to
finish the 2 prior events. He could pick up the stone but simply couldn’t get
it over the lip to finish the load and got a zero. I was shocked. So, that
meant, if I could load the 275, I would win. Now, let me say, the biggest stone
I have loaded in 2 years doing this has been a 250 because I won one and can’t
seem to load the 300. I was less than confident, and the stones were covered in
tacky and while that may seem like a good thing, it can make the stone slick,
so to speak. When I was given the start command, I couldn’t grip the stone, I
had to move it around and missed picking it up twice. The stone didn’t feel
heavy I just couldn’t get a grip. I gave it a slight spin and boom, grip and I
pulled it up to lap it. I took my time after watching Mel not being able to get
it over the lip and knew I had to have it rolled in high and tight. Once I got
it where I felt good about it, I shot my hips forward as I stood up and loaded
it easily and walked away. My first strongman national title. I am not ashamed to
say that I waited till my 50’s to get there.
Me, Missy and Thad represented Team Ogre well. I was a proud
coach. Missy fought through injury to finish and still had a chance all the way
through and really, that’s all you can ask for. She showed grit fighting
through frustration and disappointment and simply gutted it out with an injury
she will have to overcome as she gets ready for women’s worlds. Thad didn’t
place as well as hoped but, had a great training cycle. We had to overcome some
tweaks and injuries and he did just that. NO zeros on any events, which was a
huge goal and walked out of there with no injuries and once you are a master
aged athlete, you understand how big of a deal that is. I couldn’t be prouder
of them.
We spent the rest of our time sightseeing, something I never
do and Thad and I got to catch up on some bourbon sampling. It is always good
to hang out with him and his wife Lisa and got to visit with Kemal and his
great kids. Saw lots of old pals and made some new ones. And in this sport at
this point in my life, I couldn’t ask for more.
What’s next? Where do I go from here? I’d like to get in a
single ply shirt and try USAPL bench nationals. October is Class nationals and
this year, I will forgo competing and coach. From there, I am exploring what’s
out there. I have spent a lot of time while writing this, talking to people I
know in the Highland Games arena. Now, I don’t think I scan simply get a few
implements and go win another title but, my goals are to try, to push myself as
an athlete even though I’m old and to be an example to our team and our gym. If
I can, anyone can. To show the team that the coach is always trying to expand
horizons, learn and practice what I preach. I want to be as strong as I can for
as long as I can. I want to prove that whatever limitations I may face now that
I’m over 50, that I can still push the boundaries and I can still try new
things and learn. This makes me a better coach and more, a good example. Will
it ever be #4strengthsports? Time will tell but, I am looking into it, looking
into events for next year’s strongman nationals and should train in a bench
shirt this weekend. For today, I have won a national contest in 3 strength
sports and so for now, I’m going to enjoy that. Something I couldn’t always do,
simply enjoy the work and the results, come what may. Let me also say that this doesn't make me special or any kind of badass. I could have just as easily not been able to finish. I am truly blessed and also very lucky. But, just for the moment, for me, this one was special.
Thanks for indulging me and reading this. I’m sure it’s not
near as riveting for you as it was for me writing it but, I hope it gives you
perspective into the mindset of someone that does this sort of stuff. I don’t
want to, I need to. Thanks to all the team online and home for watching out for
one another and keeping things going. I couldn’t do this without the help and
support and more, thanks for believing in me both as an athlete and more, as a
coach and believing in the things taught. It truly is what helps keep me going,
especially on those days I don’t want to move, let alone train. I am truly
humbled and forever grateful.
So, until the next time I do this, Lift Heavy,
Train Smart & Eat More PIZZA!!!!
#theogrecompound #teamogre #3strengthsports
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