I’m defeated. Not in a ‘this feeling shall pass’ defeat, but in a, ‘holy shit how epically did you fail?’ defeat. I’m sitting here thinking to myself, how did I cock up so epically? How did I fail so badly? I’m not very kind to myself in defeat. Truth be told, I will tear myself up about it for a good few days because I am failing to get my head around it all.
Today was strength test day. We have trained for months to improve n our 3 major lifts, Squats, Bench and Deadlifts. It is honestly my favourite type of training, its a true test of your real strength. I had 2 PBs to hit and 1 that I needed to stick because last time, I didn’t get deep enough in my squat for it to count. We prepare for this, we build ourselves up for this, we get so focussed on the end goal. We have numbers to beat and a point to prove. Not to anyone else, but to ourselves, we want to tell our old selves just how much more of a badass we are now, that what we were 5 months ago. It’s a big deal to all of us, we take this shit to heart. We live and breathe test time.
Today, I was walking into my test time with a positive heart and what I thought was my boss bitch attitude. Apparently, I left my boss bitch at the door and brought along Becky instead. Dick. Move. I felt weak from my very first deadlift. I could feel every single muscle in my body saying fucking not today, bitch! I felt off. I felt empty. I kept pushing and come my 3rd and final attempt, I realised the dream was dead and I had fucked up. I swore. I cursed. I tried to keep my gangsta going, but that shit was fading faster than lightning I was extremely disappointed but I knew I had 2 more tests to go. I could redeem myself. I chose bench next. Knowing my last PB was an easy beat because that PB I now do for reps. First lift, brilliant. Great guns, this boss bitch has it. Annnnnnnd that was a no from me. on my 2nd attempt, I bombed. Hard. I was again, weak and sore. I cursed a little louder this time and those prickly hot tears started forming in the corner of my eyes. I was fucking MAD, like furious at how badly I had just failed myself. What was I doing? What was I missing?? How the shit did I fuck this up? I was so defeated but I knew, one more lift to go. I had made my mind up, I wasn’t walking out of The Vault without a PB for the day. I would have been broken.
I knew to take my time with my squats. Really take a breather between each set. From my first squat, I felt strong. I knew then I had this shit in the bag. I knew it was going to happen. 4 weight ranges in, it was time to meet my last PB. I was determined to get that, at the very least. I nailed it and it wasn’t time to stop. I had one more in me. So we wacked on a little more weight and off I went. I could feel my body fighting me, saying, no. Thats enough. I had no choice but to tell it, girl just a little bit more. I could feel my body wanting to stop, but I pushed through and smashed my PB. I was fucking elated and so god damn happy. My happiness however, was marred by my last 2 failings. My mind still cast back to the, what the fuck moment.
I dissected my thoughts and the events leading up to today. I had lacked motivation already. I had so many different emotions running through my head. So many what the actual fuck just happened? moments. Moments of pure rage. My head was not even remotely in the game. I was not as mentally prepared as I normally would be. So the disappointment was beyond real. I haven’t felt that zapped in a long while.
I kind of did the whole self sabotage thing. I am pro at it. I knew in the back of my mind that I should have scaled back training this week so that I could reserve some energy. I didn’t do that. I did a massive Ninja class last night so my body was well and truly cooked! I didn’t take a day to recover and let my body rest because in my mind. It was business as usual. What a fucking stupid move. I know my body well enough to know when it needs to rest and I let it down. I was even going to walk my fucking dog this morning. Thankfully, it was raining.
So. Why am I so hard on myself? I’m not a competitive person, but I am when it comes to myself though. If I did something well, I need to be sure that the next time, I do it even better. I am always chasing better. Always chasing the next goal. I want to achieve so I can look back and say, I fucking killed it today. I didn’t leave with that feeling and I’m gutted. I seem to be very good at ignoring what I did achieve today. Squatting more than my own body weight, yep, pretty fucking happy with that. But still, the persisting frustration is real.
I have no silver lining to this story, I’m not going to miraculously break out of this deep fuck with some positive affirmations. I’m going to be defeated for a while. I’m going to lick my wounds and heal my excessively battered ego. ’m going to use that defeat to reflect on why I didn’t perform the way I was expecting. I will use the time to gain some more fuel for my fire, to regroup and come back bigger and better next test. For now though, I will stick with my rage and try not to cut a bitch in between time.
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