I got to the warm-up room to do my “I’m a masters athlete” mobility work — all the warming up I do before the actual warm-up with weights, which gave me a chance to talk to the U.S. head coach, Paulie Steinman. The previous day’s fears were clearly utter paranoia. Paulie was great, and there were like five U.S. coaches helping everyone to stay on track. No one’s warm-up was getting screwed up.

My new teammate, Elektra, settled in near me, and we shared the various mobility tools that we had traveled with — foam rollers, lacrosse balls, bands, and whatnot — and got to know each other a little. We were about the same height, so we paired up on a rack to organize our warm-ups together. My mood was improving by the minute as more Gatorade got into my system, and physically I was feeling good too.

During the warm-ups I took full advantage of having experienced coaches around: “Paulie, can we be sure to check my depth on squats? I’ve been a little worried that in international competition I might come in high.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”

My focus for this meet was on executing technically. I didn’t have to reach my full potential in my weight selection. Rather, I just needed to close in on it and practice consistently delivering on the plan. Going nine for nine with many white lights would be the demonstration that I met my goal. I also wanted to test my ability to quickly adjust my technique in response to verbal lifting cues. It’s something that can be critical in competition, because with adrenaline your form can get a little off or the judging standards may be different from what you expected. The alternative to making quick adjustments is sticking with what is not working and either getting red lighted or losing it mentally because things aren’t going the way you thought they were supposed to. Neither approach gets you to the podium. Feeling comfortable and confident in your ability to make adjustments is a skill that helps you win. 

“That was right at parallel. You need to sink it a little lower,” Paulie said after the first squat he watched. The second one was better, but still a little skimpy on depth. 

“Be a little more patient on your descent,” he advised. “If you just wait a little longer before coming back up, you’ll hit depth.”

I loved the cue but also had to tell Paulie how hilarious Sam would have found it. Patience is not a virtue anyone would ever attribute to me.

The cue worked. I thought about being patient and waiting just a little longer on my descent, settling in a little deeper before driving back up. Each of my squats got three white lights, even the second one where I smacked the rack on the walk out. That mistake didn’t bother me because I remembered a queue that Sioux-z Hartwig-Gary had given me during a squat technique session. “Let the earthquake settle,” she said, meaning to wait for the bar to stop moving after the walk out before initiating the squat.

Between lifts, the vibe in the staging area was upbeat. The Canadian women were young, effusive, and enthusiastic, and I was feeling particularly outgoing. I enjoyed interacting with my teammates and the other women, congratulating them when our eyes met and rooting for their lifts. I was careful not to engage with the athletes who seemed to need to stay more inwardly focused because forcing athletes to interact during competition when they need to tune into their inner experience can be really distracting, and my interest was in helping to foster an environment in which we could all have great lifts and push each other. And it felt great. I think in future meets, I may need to stay more inwardly focused to channel energy and adrenaline on my goals, but in Costa Rica part of the experience for me was connecting with the other women, supporting each other, and contributing to the experience of us being positive with one another while still trying to win.

Bench press went extremely well. I was more conservative with weight selection compared to squat. I squatted significantly more than what I had trained with in the gym, but I’ve never felt the same adrenaline rush for bench — I think some of it gets used up in squat — and bench is so technical that the chances of screwing up my form in a way that is going to pin the bar to my chest feels higher to me. Bench was about executing on the platform what I had done in the gym. I hit 231.5lbs on my third attempt, 1.5 lbs. more than I had lifted in practice.

Warming up for deadlift brought another positive interaction with one of the coaches and my teammate. Elektra and I had listed a lot of warm-up lifts for deadlift, and one of the assistant coaches asked if we would be comfortable doing fewer. “You often don’t have as much time in international meets to warm-up, so it’s really good to be efficient,” he said. We both said yes and that we had provided our warm-up weights based on what we would have done without already being warm from squat and bench.

We peered eagerly over our coach’s shoulder as he made suggestions to consolidate the number of warm-ups. We offered suggestions on what we would be comfortable with — I took the weights he suggested for Elektra’s early lifts, and she took the weights suggested for combining my heavier lifts. “You guys don’t have to do the same thing,” the coach said. “Yeah, except our openers are the same, so why not,” we both said nearly in unison. It was yet another moment capturing a sense of team. Elektra and I would work together to have a well-timed efficient warm-up. We would work together to get ourselves ready to lift even though we’d be vying for the best deadlift performance between the two of us. We were competing in separate age categories, but there’s always a natural instinct in situations like this to try to come out on top. But that instinct isn’t in conflict with working together to get ourselves as well-prepared as possible or psyched for the other woman’s performance.

By the time deadlifts rolled around, the vibe in the staging area was super-energetic. Interestingly, I had less adrenaline for deadlifts than usual in a meet (although this is consistent with what I had been feeling in practice for some time). My second attempt actually felt heavy, and at that point I knew I needed to interact with the other women just a little less and channel more energy inward. I usually can’t really feel my deadlifts on the platform —  I just pull — so having an attempt feel heavy meant I was low on adrenaline. I found a quieter seat, did some visualization, and tried to find a little aggression for hitting a PR and breaking the 400-lb. barrier. As I queued for my third attempt, Elektra yelled “warm it up for me!” a phrase we had taken to using to root each other on. She’d tell me to warm-up the platform, and I’d walk back past her after a good pull and say “I warmed it up for you!” 

I did a little jumping in the staging area before being summoned to the platform as a way to give my body some biofeedback that it was go time. My third lift moved well. Three white lights, and I surpassed the 400-lb. barrier.

I took several things away from this meet as points of learning. I confirmed that I could make adjustments quickly (not perfectly — there was a bench press cue that I wasn’t able to incorporate on my third attempt — but well enough). I enjoyed my teammates and being able to celebrate with my competitors (we really can all do well together). It felt good to be part of the U.S. team and also to have positive interaction with women from other countries who were also there for the iron. Finally, I learned that when the chips are really down, I may need to stay a bit more inwardly focused, as some of the other women had until after their last deadlift, in order to build my own energy and focus hard on my goals. 

It’s competition season, and I intend to internalize these lessons quickly.