This week in a remarkably profound email, my boss wrote a sentence which caught my attention, given the NorCal Regionals are now merely 9 days away. He said, "What's crazy about winning is that it doesn't feel like winning. It feels like a lot of hard work, because at any given moment, that's what winners are likely to be doing."
When I read that, it nearly made me cry. In my office... at work. Nearly crying because of a sentence in an email having nothing to do with sports. If that doesn't feel like winning, I don't know what does!
Seriously, I've spent all but about a few weeks of my life training in the hopes of winning something. Whether it was soccer, jumping, or hammer in the early days or now in 2012 first it was 5 weeks of the CF Games Open with USAW Nationals thrown in for good measure. Then, immediately thereafter it became CF NorCal Regionals. And, suffering from temporary insanity (or possibly superhero disorder), I spent a few weeks in there also training for the Olympic Trials in Long Jump. I know. Unrealistic. But jumping 19ish feet after 10 years away from the sport gets a girl to dreaming!
The problem with winning in sports is there is a lot of sacrifice involved in the journey - declining fun social invitations, being away from family, enduring physical challenges, making consistently healthy choices, and more, yet these sacrifices have to be made with no guarantee that they will actually result in victory. In 2008 I watched in disbelief as one of the best throwers in the country, one of my heroes, failed to make the preliminary cut at the Trials after training for over a decade. She was without a doubt deserving of a spot on the Olympic team and she didn't even finish in the top 12.
That was part of why I quit throwing hammer, although obviously it's a complicated equation. I couldn't imagine spending four more years training, working and sacrificing - giving more than I was willing to give - if ultimately I couldn't be sure that I would win. For me the sacrifices required to win didn't match up to the likely outcome (to be a math nerd for a second: reward for winning * likelihood of winning = expected reward < necessary compensation for sacrifice). Now, on the flip side, even knowing that I may not ultimately perform as I expect or hope in a CrossFit competition, I'm willing to recommit myself to the life of a semi-professional athlete. The difference now is that the sacrifices I'm making as a CrossFitter and an Olympic Weightlifter are sacrifices I'm willing to make with no guarantee - even if I don't win I know that my life is better because of the quest.
Now, 10 days away from Regionals, even though I'm scared, every muscle in my body hurts, I'm exhausted, and I'm not sure I'm good enough, I haven't and won't quit because I believe that I will be better, having gone through this struggle. There's a good chance (probably most people think there is 100% chance) that I will not be competing in Carson in July - after all, I'm in NorCal, I only finished in 30th in the Open, and I am up against some really talented women. But, having trained, focused, and fought for this opportunity, I know that I am better than I was, and on some level I have already won.
My broken wing is almost as good as new - wanting to compete at an elite level provided an incentive to restore my arm completely, rather than accepting partial function as good enough. I am mentally stronger - I have shown myself time and again that I can fight through fear and pain, I can keep moving when my body says stop, and I can show up even when I don't want to. I'm struck daily by how difficult life can be at times, and I know that the strength I develop as an athlete carries over to strength in other areas - whether or not I compete well next weekend I will be better prepared to face obstacles which I'm afraid of later on in life. I may not win, but in working to win, I improved.
At this point in time I am doing lots of hard work. I hope this is what it feels like to be winning.
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