bomb
“Ahh, it’s just not your day, is it?”
He’s clearly someone important, as he’s wearing an official looking blue blazer with an emblem which I assume is weightlifting related, so I force myself to stop and smile at him, pretending I appreciate his patronising attempt at commiseration when in reality I’d rather stick a fork in my eye. I’m trying to warm up for my clean and jerks, which there’s no question of me doing despite missing all of my snatches, which is a first for me and I won’t be arrogant enough to say a last. I was walking to the chalk bucket after blinking back tears and focusing on pushing the feelings of inadequacy and failure back down, but his words bring them rushing back to the surface and my face feels hot as I respond by shrugging ”I’m fine, it happens.” My voice is disturbingly upbeat, I can’t let him see I’m rattled, that I’m bothered more by his obvious pity than by the misses. I may not have shown strength on the platform this far but I’ll fucking show it now, by relentlessly turning the page and getting fired up for my next three lifts.
I take a deep breath as he walks away and bend down to pick up the empty bar, banishing all thoughts of the failed snatches from my head as I narrow my eyes and focus on the only thing that matters right now. I may not get a total today but I will not give up without a fucking fight.
‘There’s always a reason’, says another seasoned coach to me at the conclusion of the competition, offering his opinion when I say there’s no reason why I missed. I realize later that what I meant to say is that I don’t have an excuse, nor will I try and find one. I hear the question “what happened?” like a broken record, and I honestly don’t know because nothing was ‘wrong’. I’m not going to blame an external factor; like my program or my coach or my life outside of the gym. I didn’t have my period, I’m not injured, my warm-up was on point, and this last month I’ve probably had more breakthroughs in training than I’ve had the whole year. The only conclusion I can draw from this is that I just have to be OK with the outcome, as hard as that is, because I know for certain that there’s nothing I could have done off the platform that would have prevented the poor result on it. People are always looking for something or someone to blame, and in doing so fail to address the glaringly obvious which is that things don’t always go how you want them too, despite your best efforts.
It’s fucking hard to accept that sometimes our 100% isn’t enough to attain the outcome we so badly want, so we search for excuses that offer us reassurance, when in reality shit just happens to everyone and at random, so it’s kind of up to you if you want to lose the absolute plot over it, or just move the fuck on to your clean and jerks and nail them. Previously when I feel I’ve done badly in a competition I’ve had an complete fucking meltdown and questioned the point of my existent whilst frantically searching for some magic bullet that is going to turn everything the fuck around, whether it be a new habit, diet, program or mantra (Ryan Holiday! Creatine! Pilates!). While all these things are obviously of benefit, I think the most important lesson to learn from this experience is that it is the failure itself that makes you better, and accepting that the world isn’t going to stop turning because you missed some snatches.
Back on the platform again, with nothing in my vision besides the bar, I take a deep breath, blocking out blue blazer guy and the missed snatches and everything in the universe besides this last clean and jerk. If this lift it successful then nothing else today will matter. This is my last moment to prove that my mind is stronger than my body.
Let’s fucking go.
