Competitor's view from the back of the pack
I participated in the Crossfit Hercules Battle of the Sexes event today. I should tell you that I'm a scaled level athlete, and I was participating with some serious RX big dogs. I was hoping that the adjustment for body weight would help me out, but I figured out pretty quickly that it wasn't going to help me much.
I had a little trouble figuring out the mechanics of the first event (farmers walk), and the one event that I thought I could make some noise in, ended up being a last place. After that event ended, I looked at the standings and saw that I had come in eighth out of ten competitors. I got pretty excited-I wasn't in last place! And then, someone pointed out that the two competitors who were behind me had not shown up.
Talk about a buzzkill. I knew I was mostly outclassed, but still, no one wants to finish last. I have no illusions about my abilities, but I still have my pride, for myself, and for my box. No one wants to embarrass themselves, and I began to wonder if my reach had exceeded my grasp.
Then, I got myself psyched up for the atlas stone. This task involved lifting a 73 pound cement ball from the ground to the top of my shoulder...EIGHTEEN TIMES in a five minute cap. I had practiced with the stone briefly with my amazing coaches earlier in the week, and got it up twice, but failed a bunch of times. When I arrived at the event today, I practiced a little bit, but couldn't get it up.
I was so so nervous about it, I seriously was almost crying when I thought about it. Really, I went through most of the Kubler-Ross stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, acceptance). I had to complete the task, or at least attempt it.
So I went out, and told hubs that he couldn't watch (or at least he couldn't watch where from where I could see him). I told the judge that my goal was to simply participate and do my best, as anything more than two successful lifts would be a PR for me, and any encouragement or advice would be welcome.
After an initial failure, I got it up once, then twice, and (with a few missed lifts interspersed), got a third. I told myself not to quit, maybe I could make it to five, and wouldn't that be amazing? I could hear Coaches Tim and Greg in my ear, I could remember Kristen's encouraging words, and I told myself not to let them down, and not to sell myself short. I kept pushing.
By this time, some folks had begun to gather. My judge and some fellow competitors started giving me encouragement and support, so I took a breath, and got to five successful lifts. In my head, I wasn't sure what to do-I had already crushed my expectations, and even my most ambitious goals. Most of my preparations consisted of thinking about how awful it would be if I had to take a zero, so I was definitely not ready for the problem of what to do when I had accomplished so much more than I thought was possible. I had a little bit more time on the clock, and my judge told me to try for ten. With about 20 seconds left, I had hit eight, and as time ran out, with people around me screaming at me to keep pushing, I hit number ten even as I was telling myself that I was tired and there was no way I'd get it up again so soon after completing the previous lift.
I can't even tell you what it felt like. Some of my friends completed their version of this workout in screaming fast times (we joked that it looked like they were lifting a beach ball), and I swear they couldn't possibly be prouder than I felt of my ten lifts. I felt like crying then, and I'm tearing up just writing about this personal victory.
That event was the perfect example of why I compete in events where I know I have no shot of hitting the podium, and may be the worst by a lot. I thought I knew what I could and couldn't do already, but I figured that since I was there I might as well try. I put my pride to the side, asked for help, and gave my all, knowing that I still might fail.
Before walking into that event, I would have confidently told you that I can't lift a 73# stone to my shoulder. Now I know I can do it multiple times. Now I WANT to try it again, because I know more now than I did then about how possible it is for me.
I've talked before about the view from the back of the pack, and I feel compelled to write again, from the view of a competitor. In my former life as a trail runner, all kinds of people showed up for races. Some came to try to win, others, like me, came just for the fun of being out there. In Crossfit, this doesn't seem to happen very much. People go to their boxes to work out, and then come to events to cheer on their firebreathers. I heard a couple of spectators comment on how they could never do what they saw competitors doing. But they could. We all could, in our own ways, of course.
I want to invite all of us from the middle and back of the pack to consider coming out to competitions as participants. If you're not ready to enter RX divisions, consider a team, masters, or scaled division. You may sometimes feel jealous or embarrassed, but you may also feel astounded by your own achievements, and thrilled by watching yourself explode through your perceived limitations.
How did the rest of the day go for me? I successfully participated in all four events. In each one, I did something I've never done before. Although I felt nervous at the beginning, I walked out with some really nice new friends (because most crossfitters, including firebreathers are awfully nice people), some new and improved skills, and a whole lot of pride in myself. Because you know what courage is, right? It's being afraid and still showing up and doing what you need to do. And I can't wait until you join me in that courage, and decide that you're a competitor too.
