When nothing goes right, stop and refocus

My name is Jennifer, and it has been 5 months three hours since my last post-WOD cry.

I had quite a different post scheduled for today, ironically another one to showcase some of my neurotic tendencies, such as becoming overwhelmed if my phone has more than 4 text messages waiting for me and I cannot answer everyone right away. Or that I have been doing the same job for five years and experience the same stress at month-end, yet still have not found a way to manage the overwhelming workload that happens every single month. Or that I feel a need to obsessively check my blog stats, thinking, I don’t know, numbers (probably same reason I often will go and log my food, or that I weigh myself every Wednesday morning around 7:15). Or that I may have a mild case of hoarding as I have sentimental attachments to things. Or that I repeatedly leave my keys in my front door after unlocking it, so someone could come and break in, or just grab the keys and steal my car overnight. Or that I leave almost every cupboard open, every light on in my house, and have not mastered the simple task of screwing lids on jars. Some days, I wonder how I function. And most days, I know that I have been blessed to never have birthed any children.

After my second ten-week Olympic lifting add-on class ended at my box tonight, my experience led me to needing to use my blog space as a journal, as some therapeutic ramblings, as a place to whine and pout because, frankly, I can.

It’s funny, in the post that I was going to publish (and will post next week), I reference a need to be in control.. and today, despite doing everything within my control, the outcome didn’t materialize as planned.

For the past twenty weeks, I have been doing 3x a week of Oly lifting; with 1-2 additional days of WODs, or skill work. In the first seven weeks, I added 5# to my clean and jerk and 5# to my snatch, maxing at 120# and 90#. After the initial ten week session ended, I maintained my C&J, and added another 5# to my snatch (95#), being able to get under 100# yet not standing it up. After another $250, seven weeks into the second session we tested maxes again; I was able to match my maxes, got under that 100# snatch, but again, no progress.

Tonight was the finale. The big hoorah. The final showcase to prove that the last ten weeks of Oly lifting, following my homework as prescribed, resting for the past three days, eating well and loading carbs when necessary, putting an emphasis on sleep; this was the moment I would finally hit my bodyweight C&J I have been chasing and that 100# snatch that I was able to get under oh, so many times before, yet couldn’t stand it up.

Today, lifting straight up sucked.

I did all of the right things. I warmed up properly, I tried to focus on all of the cues that have been given throughout the class. But nope, I couldn’t even snatch my current max of 95#, a lift I have completed multiple times before. After many failed attempts, I wrote it off as a loss and moved on to the clean and jerk. Of which I couldn’t hit a clean 105#. I can do “Grace” in under 5:00 yet couldn’t clean 105# today, a weight that is heavy, yet very manageable.

Naturally, I pouted.

After seeing my obvious sorrow, the Coach tried to reason with me, that everyday is a different day, so many other factors affect your performance, hitting 85% of your max 90% of the time is still great, consistency is key, blah, blah, blah. I know he meant well. And I know he’s right. And I know I am just a big baby about the whole thing. But I also know that failing a weight I know I have been able to do multiple times turns into a mind game.

A mindf***.

What am I doing wrong?

Why am I not making progress?

How can I do everything right and fail LESS than my max?

What have I been doing the past 20 weeks?!

Why did I give up regular WOD classes to digress on my Oly lifts?

Why do I suck at Crossfit?

Why do I suck at life?

See where this is going?

After trying to keep my self-loathing to myself, a good friend, attorney by day and should-be therapist by night, summed up what my main problem is for me, that I let Crossfit define me.

I am Jennifer, the Crossfitter.

Jennifer, who blogs about Crossfit.

Jennifer, who encourages other girls to do Crossfit because they should be as empowered as she.

Jennifer, who spends her evenings at the box, working on skills before and after class.

Jennifer, who prefers to date a Crossfitter.

Jennifer, who eats to perform, because it will affect how she Crossfits.

Jennifer, whose social circle is all Crossfitters.

Jennifer, who has to get 8+ hours of sleep as to ensure she is recovering from Crossfit.

Jennifer, who has massively increased her self-confidence and self-body image due to Crossfit.

Crossfit defines me.

The majority of decisions I make outside of my day job, circle back to Crossfit.

I am completely and utterly emotionally invested in Crossfit to a fault.

I am not a Games athlete.

I am not a Regionals athlete.

Heck, I am barely hanging on to being in the top half of women at my gym.

My sisters joke that the only way to get my attention is to throw the word “Crossfit” into conversation. It’s funny, but it’s also not, in the maybe I do take it a bit too seriously.

I developed a girl-crush on Andrea Ager after I heard her on a recent episode of Barbell Shrugged, referencing her failure to make it to the Games this year. It was awesome to hear how someone at such a high level deals with something so life-changing, as for her, failing a lift or having one crummy workout has a bigger impact than what would happen to me. The key takeaway I got from it, was her saying that at the end of the day, her mom doesn’t care what she can overhead squat. Her friends will still be there even if she doesn’t make it to the Games. Her social circle doesn’t care if she can OHs 135# or 175#. She is not defined by Crossfit.

So why am I, someone who has zero riding on the line based on my performance, so caught up in the sport? I put so much pressure on myself to do well. There is no one other than me pressuring me to perform. In fact, I think my family would prefer if I didn’t do Crossfit! (Mom cringes at the thought of me heavy lifting; my Granny said it is making my butt too big, baby sis says I have man muscles, and middle-sis, well, she is proud of me).

Pseudo-therapist reminded me she would still be my friend, even if I didn’t Crossfit. Most people at my box don’t like me because of what I can lift; they like me as a person. But if I am not a Crossfitter, then what am I?

I had never been an athlete before I first touched a barbell the day I started this blog. I was an honor student, a banker, a used-car parts salesperson. Now, I do accounting. I’m a dog-mom. A sister and a daughter.

But outside of work and my family – I have Crossfit.

It doesn’t have to be fun to be fun, is one of my favorite Crossfit quotes, but really, what happens when it isn’t fun at all? I do love Crossfit, and I do love Oly lifting, and do want to base my goals and future progress on my love of the two. And up until today, I was feeling great about where I was at.. then I let the lifts destroy me.

But can’t I step back and just have fun? I am getting stronger, I am getting faster, I am getting better and more efficient at my lifts. So who really cares if I can’t snatch 100# other than me? Will people really treat my any differently if I get my muscle-up?

If the worst thing in my life now (within my control) is that I can’t hit a 100# snatch, I say I have doing pretty darn good in life.

I planned on starting the new programming immediately after I maxed my Oly lifts today; I was going to do the scheduled WOD and be right back at it Thursday evening, but I think my mind is demanding a rest day, despite having the last three off and not performing much today. My Coach suggested not doing any Oly at all for a week or two; give myself a break from the stress of the barbell. He said go, join the WOD classes, have fun.

I feel like a whiny, ranting, baby at the moment and maybe it’s because I have not had a really bad lifting day in a while and it’s just getting to me today. Maybe I am prematurely stressing about the new programming I planned on starting. And maybe because everything else is just so grand, that I blow all the little things out of proportion and look for things to dwell on.

It’s time for me to get to bed, lock the front door, shut of all the lights, and get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day, and I plan on waking up with a better attitude, and revisiting my “why”.