confidence
Prelude: If Harry Potter references are over your head then stop what you’re doing and go read the ENTIRE series. Right fucking now.
The red numbers on the clock change from 1:00 to 00:59 and my coach Simon’s words are loud in my ears. It doesn’t matter to me what you lift today, it’s about how CONFIDENTLY you lift it. I walk to the platform, mentally blocking out the red number on the screen glowing at me below the clock, because I don’t want to know what weight’s on the bar. It doesn’t matter, I need confidence regardless.
I stand in front of it and stare into the middle distance, envisioning success. I talk to myself as I set up. Some people are loud, approaching the bar with a warrior yell, aggressive and certain. In contrast I talk quietly to myself as I set up, lips moving but not even sure if I’m actually speaking.
Change nothing.
weight in your heels. control from the floor. stay over the bar. stretch up. fast turn over. aggressive lockout. stay tight. hold.
Let’s go.
. . .
Confidence. That old fucking chestnut. I watched the recent Conor McGregor documentary the other week and it hasn’t left my mind. Not in a pervy way, like obviously he’s not hard on the eye and also literally was better than anyone else in the world in TWO fucking weight classes. But that’s not why I kept thinking about it. The guy’s confidence is insane. Like next level. Where the fuck did it come from? Did his coach tell him he was going to be a world champion kind of like Hagrid telling Harry he’s a wizard? Or did he just wake up one morning and be like fuck yeah I’ve got this and start hash tagging #worldchamp. Rather than coming across as an arrogant dickhead, his belief in his own abilities is nothing short of inspirational. He lives like a rock star too, taking pride in the fact that he’s successful and not succumbing to false modesty bullshit and acting like some god-given talent should be attributed to his success. He quite literally fought his way to the top, deserves to be there, and allows himself to acknowledge it unapologetically, rather than hiding his light under a bushel (whatever the fuck that is) so that lesser people don’t feel as lesser. Basically, he’s a badass motherfucker and he owns it, and if that makes you feel shit about your life well then that’s YOUR fucking issue, maybe try harder.
I know that I do have ‘Conor Days’ (that are happily becoming more frequent) where I feel like I’m a badass motherfucker. I’ll wake up certain I can destroy the universe and will strut my way through the day with the airtight confidence that Harry had when he could finally produce a corporeal Patronus. I feel like every day for Conor must be like this, because literally everything in his life is aligned towards being a champion so there is basically no room in it for self doubt. I read this quote once that one doesn’t become a champion, then start acting like a champion, so I guess that Conor didn’t just wake up a champion one day, but he did wake up with the mindset of one. It just occurred to me a week after watching his documentary that the difference between him and me (well, one of them, also you don’t need subtitles on when I talk) is that he doesn’t have Imposter Syndrome. I’ve talked about this concept before, basically it’s that Negative Nancy part of your brain that questions and doubts your every move. That voice in your head that says things like yeah, you cleaned it, but you won’t be able to jerk it. That voice that scoffs that you don’t know what you’re doing, snidely demands who the fuck you think you are and leers that no one will listen to you or give you the time of day ever, because you are actually just a dumb fuck. (Some Nancy’s are more aggressive than others.)
Harry (because obviously it all comes back to him) was born a wizard, but there wasn’t really anything that special about him until he started acting like a fucking wizard. He always had the ability and the potential, but he didn’t believe that he did. He had to be told by someone else that he was good at spells and Quidditch, and if you’re familiar (which you obviously should be unless you rudely ignored my pre-blog instruction) he suffered from some pretty severe Imposter Syndrome for at least three books and basically skated through Lord Voldemort’s various attacks with the help of his friends, his teachers, and his friend’s mum. It wasn’t until he stopped being a sook, got some balls and started acting like a wizard that he actually stopped succeeding by accident and started succeeding on purpose. For me I find it literally doesn’t matter who tells me I’m strong, I’m successful or that I’m worth listening to. It’s obviously nice to hear these things and I appreciate them, but the only voice that really matters is the Hagrid in my head. At the end of the day that’s the only voice you’ll hear when you’re in the ring, on the platform or going head to head against Lord Voldemort.
No matter what your potential is, world champion, wizard or weightlifter, you have the power to unlock that shit. You don’t need Hagrid or your coach or your friend’s mum to tell you that you cleaned it, so OBVIOUSLY you can jerk it. It’s YOUR belief in yourself that is the game changer. Once you realize that you are a badass motherfucker there is really no stopping you.
One doesn’t become a wizard, and then start acting like a wizard, basically.
