Max out day

Yesterday was "max out" day at training. My programming was light in reps all week in order to prep me for this day. I have something to compare to. My PRs last year were 62 snatch and 75 CJ, so I had 60/75 in my head for this day. All week I was looking forward to coming in and testing out what my training had accomplished in 9 weeks. The day of, I got nervous. All the failure talk started up and boiled to the surface. I had to talk myself off the edge during the 45 minute drive to Maine. "I could just turn around and go home..."

No, I made it there. I ended up snatching 59. It looked ugly. So ugly Ivan won't even share a video with me. Then I failed 61 three times. The bar was out front, butt coming up first. Then the clean and jerk - I cleaned 73 no problem - just like the competition where I cleaned 75 no problem. Then there was the jerk. Failed 73 three times. "Anyone can clean the bar, only champions jerk it." So that is where I ended the day. Disappointed.

I spent the rest of the day hanging out with my family, indulging in ice cream and other things that you put in your mouth. It was MAX OUT day after all.

In the middle of the night, I woke up - replaying all of my lifts and all of the food I put in my mouth. I was beating myself up, in the dark, while my family snored away beside me. "The only one who can lift the bar is me. All the training in the world won't help if I'm not willing to put it all out there and lift that thing. I'm the one who decides what goes in my mouth. No one is shoving junk in my face. Just me...and I made bad decisions. Bad, bad, bad." -- over and over and over.

Then it stopped.

Finally, I fell back asleep. I focused on the sounds of breathing next to me. The synchronized snoring of my son and wife. The dark as a blanket, hugging me. This thing - life - is a journey. We can't go back in time. We can only move forward and pray for another day to fail lifts and shove too much food in our mouths.