A Bad Day is A Good Sign

I signed up for a weightlifting meet (clean & jerk and snatch) in January. Something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time, but kept putting off because, well frankly, I knew it’d be hard work and I wasn’t really sure how serious I wanted to be about my lifting.  The thought of competing, being an athlete again, having a goal to work towards kept pushing at the forefront of my brain, and finally I caved in and signed up.

Last night will be remembered as my first weightlifting practice. I’ve been doing the Olympic lifts for about a year at this point, but last night was the first time I did a workout geared specifically towards improving those lifts and starting a cycle for a meet.


The whole day yesterday was just shit. Maybe I was still mad at myself for being so lazy on Sunday and doing nothing but eating take out pancakes and watching movies. Maybe having the thought of working a split shift and getting two workouts in looming over me just felt like a black cloud following me all day. My first workout was not great. I was slow and rested more than I should have, I was not proud of how I did at all. Instead of shaking off the feeling and moving on, I let it linger and ruin my day and get in my head during my second lifting session.

Clean & Jerks; Snatch Balance; Front squats were on the menu for last night. Normally I would be pumped. The clean is my favorite lift, and I know my jerk needs work so i enjoy doing it. I’ve never done snatch balances and should have been happy to do something new. I hardly do front squats, usually back, so it’s nice to be forced to move out of my comfort zone and switch it up.

It all felt like crap.

Everything felt heavy, even I felt heavy. My whole body hurt any time the bar touched me. Every try lifting without letting the bar touch you? I was like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. I did about 100 snatch balances because I just could not fucking get them and kept failing and changing weight. I became so angry and let me ego take over, I didn’t even allow myself proper rest intervals, as if this was a punishment to me somehow. Not realizing at the time, it’s the wrong type of punishment. Rest longer, that would be a more accurate punishment. The whole workout took longer then I had anticipated and that played into my anger even more. Tired from a long day and just wanting to get home, I kept getting worked up and just sucked all over the place.

Yet, upon arriving home, making dinner and getting into bed, all I could think about was how excited I was to go workout tomorrow. To me, THAT is how you know you love something. When you’re having the absolute worst time doing it, and hating every second, yet wanting to keep doing it. Having my “first day” go terrible, but leaving with this yearning to come back soon, was a great lesson to me. This is going to be hard work. This is not going to be easy. If I want to achieve something in this sport, if I want to prove something to myself, I’m going to have to work at it. There is no faking it, there is no half assing it. Either you do it or you don’t. It’s going to force me to work harder than I currently am. It’s going to force me to be more honest with myself. Honest about my talents, my strengths, my weaknesses.Honest about my priorities, what’s important and where have I been wasting time in my day. Having two a day workouts 4-3x a week is time consuming.

& I’m still excited to do it. I’m looking forward to my next lifting session. I’m looking forward to improving as an athlete. I’m looking forward to shifting my time, my focus in a more productive manner.

I’m excited to see where I can take this life of mine if I actually paid attention to it and tried every now and again.

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