I had just gotten home from work, and Sam was downstairs. I made a terrible mistake, I texted him. I laid down on the bed.

A moment later I heard him laugh.

I didn’t move. Instead I was negotiating with myself, running through my schedule for the weekend wondering if there was a way I could push my work out off and just sleep. 

Then from downstairs, I heard the dramatic strains of “O Fortuna” (Carmina Burana) coming LOUDLY from Sam’s office.

I cracked up and texted again. That worked. I’m up.

Smiling, I dragged myself off the bed and got out of my suit. 

I had gotten really tired this week, and I didn’t think it was because of the training. I had made a big change at work — after one year with my new company I had changed departments and taken on a role I’m extremely excited about that involves creating a new data integrity program. This meant diving right back into new-girl stress — learning the culture of my new team, how they work together, what is important to them — after just having recovered from it in my former position. In addition, I was in the midst of selling a condo that has been a financial drain ever since the Great Recession, and my parents were selling their house — my childhood home — all of which was bringing up lots of memories and emotions. 

Before 2018 Nationals, I had a similar schedule — I was starting a new job, Sam and I were selling our condo in D.C., and we were moving to Pittsburgh. I was also doing my first real cut before a meet to make weight.

Clearly, I like to lay things on before a big meet.

For whatever reason, the pre-meet changes seemed to be hitting me harder than in 2018. I think that was for a few reasons: In 2018, although I had new-girl-at-work stress, I was very new so the expectations were, “just learn the institution.” I also had no strong emotional connection to the condo sale. It was Sam’s condo that I had moved into when we decided we were going to combine households. I also think my training at the time was less exhausting. I was working hard, but if I compare the workouts, I’ve pushed harder this year. This was in part because in 2018 I was still recovering from a meniscus tear, and by Nationals I was just getting my squat back to my pre-injury PR. Both the amount of weight and volume had been limited for squats for me last year. 

This year, I think my nervous system just had way more to cope with: harder, more intense training with weights that corresponded to higher PR numbers, and lots more emotion associated with changes in my life. Sam reminded me that “stress is stress” regardless of where it comes from, and so he wanted to pay attention and adjust my training based on my whole person — not just my gym numbers.

One of the changes we’ve made was to do a more aggressive taper. In the past I have chosen to work hard close to the meet — it’s not unlike how I stayed sharp for a track meet, and I am still learning the right balance and bar path for squats and bench press. Working with heavier weights has helped me to make sure that motor-neural learning aspect stayed active and reinforced. And certainly, it did not seem to degrade my performance at NAPF.

But this time, we are emphasizing recovery before the meet. It’s time to trust in the year’s worth of training and see just how rested and recovered I can get before the last meet of the season. Sure, I could do the exact same thing as I did before NAPF, but bodies are always changing. Your training needs also change, and while I’m not advocating doing some crazy stuff you’ve never tried before right before a meet, especially early in your lifting career, it’s worth experimenting with things that seem right for where your body is at so that you can hone in on your best approach. Maybe I’ll kick myself after the meet if I have meh performances for not hitting a few more heavy lifts close to the competition, but risk and uncertainty are part of competition. There is no guarantee that the same thing would work equally well this time any more than getting a little more rest will guarantee a successful outcome. Sam has had great intuition on how to handle me — when to help me push through things and when to back off. As many people have said before, sometimes you gotta just trust the plan.

The last two weeks I’ve found that mentally, I feel ready to go. I shifted from feeling excited and determined about the meet to feeling calm about it. I accept that I’ve done what I can to be successful, but it’s not wholly in my control to produce a certain outcome. Mystique may well have had an amazing training block that blew her squat up to 400lbs, which might put so much distance between the two of us at the start that I may not be able to catch up. 

I have no idea how Mystique’s training has gone or how she will perform. All of that is out of my control. What is in my control is to do my final “stay tuned up” workouts, rest, and to feel confident in what I will bring to the platform. Wanting to win and knowing that it is out of your control are two feelings that can and should exist in an athlete’s mind simultaneously. You want the energy and determination of that tangible goal to help drive you and give you focus. But you also want to be detached just enough from the goal, accepting that your competitor has been on her own journey, that you can stay focused through the entire meet and do not begin to slip into fear of failure and other negative thinking.

This is old advice that has been around for athletes for many years. One thing that I will add is my clear realization that the uncertainty of outcome is fundamentally what makes competition fun. I don’t think that gets enough attention. It is a privilege to have your drive and focus enhanced by strong competition. Your competitors are gifts that can help you grow. And the experience of an uncertain outcome — the nerves, the excitement, the not knowing — truly amplifies the joy of competing. 

In my earlier athletic life, that uncertainty was sometimes overwhelming because I was so attached to outcomes. Not knowing if I’d be successful would sometimes overwhelm my brain and throw me into total stress and a defeatist mindset. That’s not where I am anymore. As much as I love the challenges I can find at work, where there is also uncertainty around whether I’ll be successful, powerlifting offers a focused experience in which my individual performance matters entirely, and it is thrilling and wonderful. Yes, I want to win. And thank goodness for that or this would be way less interesting and fun! But all the feelings and excitement and not knowing helps to hone my focus on my performance, and it feels good.

It’s thrilling in a way that other adult experiences are not. And best of all, there really aren’t any negative outcomes to failing. Yes, I’d be disappointed, but no one dies. I don’t get fired. I just don’t get the honor and experience of competing for the U.S. at the next IPF competition. I’ll be disappointed, but it’s not actually consequential in the great scheme of life. It also doesn’t change anything about who I am or the hard work I’ve put in over the last year. I can feel good about that no matter what.

In my last week, I keep thinking about how fantastic it is that after 20 years of hanging up my track shoes, I get to be a competitive athlete again, and every time I get a little flutter of nerves or that steely sense of determination, I smile. It feels good, uncertainty and all.