Kicking Out the Numbers

Lately I’ve been feeling burnt out. I told my coach that I wanted to take a couple weeks off to recover and focus on my diet, but what I really wanted to do was walk out of the gym and never come back. I felt defeated, broken down, and disappointed in myself. I had set goals that I thought were completely attainable, but when I fell short I decided that I just wasn’t working hard enough. My back ached, my shoulder throbbed, my knees were sore, and my hands were wrecked; I wanted to work harder, but physically it felt impossible. I was missing lifts that I had been chasing for months. No snatch or clean & jerk PRs for a long time can be slightly depressing for an Olympic Weightlifter. Thats when my coach reminded me how fun weightlifting had been when I first walked through the door.

Remember when you first started Olympic weightlifting? That day when you first walked into a weightlifting class and learned what a snatch was. That time when your biggest worry was making sure your hands were in the right place on the barbell. The days when you never wasted a second thought on how much weight was on the bar, or the person’s next to you. These days were what my coach was referring to.

This made me think back to all the fun that I had putting more weight on the bar simply for the joy of beating myself. One day I could only lift 50 lbs, but the next I could lift 55 lbs. I liked the feeling of being strong. Not the feeling of being stronger than so-and-so or lifting more than so-and-so, but just the feeling of self-satisfaction. This is where the true love of the sport comes in. The day that you start comparing yourself to everyone of a similar age, height, weight, etc., is when you lose the love of the sport. This started after my second weightlifting competition.

I was the youngest female at the very first the meet I ever attended, and this man named Charlie told me I should quit gymnastics and cross country to do weightlifting. I also found out that I qualified for Youth Nationals. I got a big head and convinced myself that I was pretty good at this weightlifting thing. From then on I wanted to do whatever would make me the best weightlifter. I committed 100% to weightlifting. When I registered for Youth Nationals my coach told me not to worry about my competition, as he didn’t know the skill-level of my competitors. We were just going to have fun and hit a PR total. His exact words were

Snatching 54kg at 2013
Youth Nationals

“It’s just you against the bar.”

At Youth Nationals I did pretty well. I hit a PR and missed qualifying for Junior Nationals by two kilos. This gave me an even bigger head. I started watching the results of the girls I competed against. I friended them on facebook, followed them on instagram, and added them on twitter. If someone made a PR, I made it my goal to beat them. By this point I was cluelessly lost in the numbers. I stopped working as hard; because my goal wasn’t to beat myself, it was to beat my competitors. By the third meet I was already knew where I would rank as far as placement. I knew my competitors best numbers before they ever stepped on the platform. This ruins the game. It’s just as bad as having someone give you a bunch of spoilers right before you go see a movie that you’ve been looking forward to.

My coach and I after
Youth Nationals

Even with all the congratulations and impressed expressions I was not satisfied with my performance. I knew that a few of the girls I had lifted against at Youth Nationals were lifting more than me. My training showed little motivation and my numbers stalled. By the time I competed in my fourth meet, which was a high school meet, I wanted to back out the night before. I told myself that weightlifting sucked and I wasn’t very good at it anyway. A couple people commented on how disappointed I looked after my last lift. My parents even jumped to the conclusion that I was tired of weightlifting, and wanted to quit. Well they were right; I was feeling a little bit hopeless.

The day after that meet I continued my usual routine of going to the gym. My coach could tell something was up, and somehow he got me to admit that I wasn’t having fun anymore. Thankfully he is an understanding coach who has been through all this before. He reassured me that it is his job to worry about the numbers, not mine. He told me to stop worrying and just enjoy weightlifting. So I’ve decided to do just that.

I’m officially kicking out the numbers because the only person I want to beat is myself.

Moral of the story: don’t compare yourself to anyone else or it will suck the fun out of life. We all have a unique story of how we got to where we are and how we will get to where we want to be.