Thoughts on the 2016
Masters Nationals
I competed recently at the 2016 Canadian
Masters Nationals, and is a little story describing the experience.
The only negative (and this might be
something unique to me!) was the night before. As I lay awake staring at a
typically bland hotel room ceiling, I couldn’t help but dwell on every possible
negative thought. First was the preparation – did I train hard enough, or maybe
too hard? What about my diet or recovery, where did I screw that up? What could
I have done better? What was I going to eat tomorrow, and would it support
performance? These thoughts and more continually cycled through my brain as I
absently mindedly channel surfed for a few hours. I then checked out the AGM
(which itself is a story for another day!) before calling it a night.
My session was to begin at 3:30 Saturday,
which left me the whole day to basically do nothing. I headed to Denny’s for a
massive greasy breakfast, planning it so that I had 6 hours to digest and
process the whatever-it-was that I ate. My plan was to then eat an energy bar
or two about 2 hours before competition, and to make sure that I drank water
and Gatorade like it was going out of style. Nutrition: check!
After breakfast I went down to the venue to
watch the first sessions. I figured I’d see some people who were older than me
come out and lift some weights, get some applause, maybe pick up some hardware.
But it was a bit more intense than that. No matter what their age or the
numbers that they were putting up, these people were fiercely competing! Not so
much against each other, but definitely against themselves. The impression that
I got was that these athletes were there for the love of the sport and to
challenge their limits, not simply to beat each other. Each competitor gave
their best, regardless of their chances of winning gold. It was very inspiring!
Eventually it was time to begin warming up.
Within short order most of the competitors in my session had introduced
themselves to me, but once the bars started moving this was as serious a group
as I have ever seen. Their warm-ups were dialled in and they were focused on
the task at hand. Although we were all Masters athletes, we were preparing to
compete as if we were all 20. There was no doubt that everyone was going to
leave it all on the platform.
My snatch warm up went fairly well, with
only one miss at 90. I had planned to open at 105 to try to save my injured
left knee for the clean & jerks, but I hit a solid 105 in the warm up and
followed it up with a solid 110. My main competition was opening at 105, and I
suspected that he would have a bigger jerk than I would so I knew that I needed
to at least keep pace with him in the snatch. He opened at 105 and made it, so
I opened at 110 and was good. His second at 113 was successful, so I hit 115
for my second. He then made 120 for his third, and I went for a PR of 121. It
was a good attempt and I caught it securely, only to suffer one of those slow
motion misses behind that we`ve all experienced. You sit in the squat for what
seems like an eternity, knowing that the bar is going backwards the second you
try to stand up. And when it did, my left knee suddenly felt like someone smoked
it with a crowbar Nancy Kerrigan-style. So with a 5kg deficit and an aggravated
injury, my shot at gold was essentially gone.
Without a break between lifts, we had to
immediately begin warming up for the clean & jerk. I tried some lunge
presses with an empty bar, but could not recover from the lunge. I also tried
some empty bar front squats, but could not recover those as well. With the
symptoms pointing to a possible sprain of my lateral collateral ligament,
squatting was out of the question. My only option would be a power clean and
power jerk, since if I squatted with any amount of weight I would likely
collapse into a blob of goo on the platform. The warm up was rough, and I
started missing power jerks at 110. I had declared 125 to open, and I was able
to drop that down to 120. My hope now was to make just one jerk and total.
I took the platform, with more than one
audience member no doubt wondering “didn’t he just attempt to snatch more than
this?” The power clean was not too difficult, and I managed to power jerk it. I
gave the self-congratulatory fist pump as I hobbled off the stage, but I saw
one red light out of the corner of my eye. No matter, with that lift I had
totaled and locked down the silver medal, and could now go nurse my body and
ego! But as I passed the official’s table, instead of declining my last two
attempts I found myself saying “125 please.”
I didn’t come all this way to decline! If
it killed me, I was taking another lift. So I power cleaned 125, and managed
another passable power jerk (only the second time that I’ve power jerked 125).
Again, I got a red light! But now my knee was on fire and I walked stiff legged
off the platform. But I gave it that extra effort and could sleep knowing that
I didn’t suck out. I could decline my third attempt and go find some ice and
maybe a pillow to cry on. But as I passed the Official’s table again, instead
of declining my third attempt I again found myself saying “130 please.”
As I sat waiting for my name to be called,
I couldn’t cross my leg. I needed both hands just to move it through its range
of motion. People were starting to awkwardly ask if I needed anything. “Excused
me, but do you need some water? Because you look like you’re about to die.” But
I declined, instead closing my eyes and trying to put the pain away until
later.
When I took the stage I couldn’t squat to
get into my pulling position. It took 30 seconds to get ready. Then I cleaned
the 130, trying not to cry like a bitch as I stood it up. My entire body was
screaming “drop the weight!” but I just focused on my one jerk cue: 2 second
dip, then explode!
3 white lights!
So I ended up going 5/6 and hitting a big
power jerk PR. But what was the point, you might ask. Once you locked down
silver with your first clean & jerk, why continue despite an injury? If
there was no chance of improving your position or hitting PR numbers, why
bother?
This is the truth about competition, which
was evident in every session that I watched at these nationals. It doesn’t
matter if you can win or not, or if you can PR. All that matters is that you
give it 100% and leave it on the platform. Competition for the sake of
competition, for the love of the sport. Yes I took home silver and I’m proud of
it, but not because I did the minimum required to get it. I gave 100% of what I
could have that day. It wasn’t my best competition in terms of numbers (I’ve
put up higher), but in terms of heart and drive I’ve never done better. I
couldn’t quit because none of these other athletes were letting themselves
quit! And I also made friends here which I’ll see again next year, like minded
individuals with the same passion for this sport which I have.
So this was my experience at the nationals.
Was it worth all the prep work and travel and boo-boos? Absolutely! And as soon
as all the pain goes away, then it’s back to square one. The next competition
is just around the corner.
