Is Competition Selfish?

It turns out I find listening to podcasts inspiring, so much so that I'm thinking about trying to talk Robby Star into hosting a podcast with me.  If you talk to him, and think it's a good idea, please buzz in his ear.

Today's inspiration relates to whether competing is inherently selfish.  It's an issue I've struggled with over the years - it felt really selfish to miss my brother's graduation from high school because it conflicted with my Pac-10 Championship in college.  It feels selfish to pretty much only see my extended family if they happen to live somewhere I am competing because I spend all of my vacation time traveling to one competition or another.  Even more selfish than the competitions, it feels ridiculously selfish to plan my free time day in and day out around training or recovery because my daily schedule also becomes my husband's, and it affects when my mom can call me, or when my gym members can talk to me.  My free time, as a semi-professional exerciser, has to revolve around training, and those choices can certainly feel very selfish.

That said, I consider myself to be an unselfish person.  It's certainly the kind of person I want to be.  I want my life to be very much in tune with the needs of the people around me, and whether or not I am enhancing or hurting them, I care very deeply about how my actions affect my loved ones.  At some point in my college career during a winter break I told my high school coach that I was struggling with whether striving to excel in sports (hammer throwing at the time) was a meaningful or worthwhile pursuit.  His response was genius, and has stuck with me.  He told me that if it mattered to me, it mattered.  In my heart, in terms of what I want to accomplish, nothing matters more, even though I've never really understood why.  I've come to understand that I inherently value the pursuit of excellence, and I have excellent focus on the pursuit.  I'm not necessarily excellent, nor have I actually achieved most of what I've set out to (even though I have gotten very close), but I'm still getting better nearly 30 years after I set out to be great, and it still matters to me.

So, how is a person who wants to be unselfish, and who is pursuing something that requires near complete focus day in and day out, to be a competitive athlete without creating internal conflict?

What I've learned is that pursuing excellence has never been just about me.  My parents created endless opportunities for me to compete, and in doing so opened doors for me to attend Stanford, nearly reach the Olympics, and live out every one of my childhood dreams.  Now my husband contributes to my success day in and day out - he makes sure food is close enough that I'll remember to eat, he helps me manage my training, he's responsible for most of the daily operation of the gym we both dreamed of, and in doing so creates an atmosphere in which elite training is possible for me.  Through empowering my pursuit, he contributes to something that matters to him - and he experiences my success and failure as his, not just as mine.  Largely for this reason, each season I continue to train starts with a conversation about whether this is how WE want to spend the year.  It's not just about me.

Beyond how training affects my nearest and dearest, pursuing excellence affects the community around me, but not in the way I originally thought.  I used to think that people cared if I won or lost, that they'd remember me for my greatness, or somehow that the end result would be meaningful.  I've learned that couldn't be farther from the truth (even for people that actually do make the Olympics).  The medals tarnish, the memory fades, and an incredibly small number of the things we accomplish in life will be remembered.  We remember that someone did something awesome once, and we found it really cool at the time, but most of us forget the specifics.

As humans, I believe we all want to accomplish things we value, and we all face major obstacles.  Watching another person pursue a goal, especially as they overcome their obstacles, is beautiful and inspiring in large part because it gives us faith that we can reach our own goals despite our own obstacles.  In addition, contributing selflessly to another person's pursuit is one of the most beautiful things in the world - whether or not they realize their contributions, the people who help others surely have a special place in Heaven because they've made the world a better place.  It isn't about the outcome, it's about the connection we share as someone who is trying to do something meets someone else who has the ability and willingness to help.  Seeing someone else strong enough to keep trying, even when others would quit, can be the encouragement anyone needs to continue fighting their own battles.  It's about a whole lot more than achieving the right number of centimeters or few enough hundredths of a second on game day, even though that's what training can feel like it's about most of the time.

So, is training inherently selfish?  I don't think it has to be.  It certainly can be, and is, if you're doing it for personal glory or fame.  As I've gotten older, and realized that I'm not going to grow out of this any time soon, I've come to realize that at least for me, it's about the authentic pursuit of knowing myself and who I'm meant to be - trying to be the best I can be by working to overcome my weaknesses, and using my strengths to help others.  I try to share my experiences as openly and authentically as possible because the pursuit is all there is.  It's about feeling gratitude for the people who support me, see the value of what I'm trying to do, and give me strength when my own resources falter.  We are all in the same race.  It doesn't matter the scale of the goal, the obstacles we face, or the apparent likelihood that we'll succeed.  Sports just happen to be one of the outlets people can actually see - career goals, family goals, life goals are more private, but no different.  Competition, defined as striving for success in an authentic goal, is something we should all pursue, every day of our lives.  While doing so, we need to recognize the journey, and the impact we all have on each other.

How Can I Help?

This evening I was listening to a podcast which made me really sad.  The subject of the podcast was women and eating disorders, and the speakers were therapists and CrossFit enthusiasts who had solicited questions about body image and disordered eating in order to address these questions for the benefit of their listeners.

My sadness stemmed from a sense that despite their good intentions, the speakers were not being especially helpful regarding disordered eating, body image, or the ultimate goal (as I see it) of achieving optimal health and a sense of self-satisfaction.  They were trying to help, of course, and the things they were saying are technically correct as far as I understand the current research on the subject, but they utterly lacked real empathy for the situation many women find themselves in from time to time, and/or (I wasn't sure which) they are so disordered themselves that they were unable to separate their own behavior from the disordered mentalities they were trying to address.  In all, I felt my heart clamoring to add my own voice to the conversation - to open my own experiences up, and offer all the associated pain I've overcome as it relates to experiencing staggering levels of perfectionism, the success and devastation that has brought me, and the depth of understanding I now have that we are who we are, and the journey is all there is (to quote Kill Cliff's new and brilliant tagline - can you guys please make shirts and sell them all to me?)

To that end, if anyone reading this thinks I might be able to help with something you're going through, or wants to learn any strategies I've used relating to overcoming eating disorders, coming to terms with failing to reach my life goal of competing in the Olympics, overcoming injury, pursuing optimized mental and physical health through thoughtful training and dialed-in nutrition, or the challenges of training at a high level while balancing a demanding career, I'd love to hear from you.  Please shoot me an email, and let me know how I can help.

Hello World

It's been a year and a half since I last blogged here.  In that time, I've kept a few of you up to speed via Instagram @sarahhopping, and most of you I speak with on a daily basis at Arena Ready or you're my mom or my aunts.  Sorry for my lack of posting, but let me quickly bring you up to speed before I launch into today's post.

Most notably, I've returned to the world of competitive CrossFit with more love for the sport and training methodology than ever before.  I made it to the California Super Regional by the skin of my teeth in 2015 and managed to finish in the top half despite fighting a pesky subluxed rib and my continued uselessness in handstand walking and handstand push-ups (earning me last and second-to-last place finishes, respectively).  The joy of being back out on the floor even despite my shortcomings, and the associated experience of spending a joyous weekend in San Diego with my parents and Arena Ready family, was motivation to keep trying to relive that experience each year that I am able through circumstances and/or physical ability.  It is a joy to pursue the best that I can be among like-minded people of every level.

I participated in the second season of the GRID League last fall, playing for the San Francisco Fire, and was honored to earn Honorable Mention on the All-Grid team thanks to the votes of fans.  Our team battled some adversity through the latter part of the season, but we managed to earn a spot in the Semi-Final match, and were thankful to enjoy spending time trying to move heavy weights faster together.

To state the also obvious, I've quit competitive weightlifting as a sport.  This was primarily because I became unwilling to compete at 75kg after a very tough cut and subsequent lackluster performance at the 2014 American Open.  I am too realistic to think I could compete with the likes of Sarah Robles or Holley Mangold at my natural body weight of 80kg, so I've given up on the dream of competing in weightlifting on the international stage as a specific focus.  I still love lifting heavy weights, as you've seen on Instagram, but now I lift them only when I feel like it, seldom in weightlifting shoes, and never in a singlet

I continue to help Rob run Arena Ready, but professionally I've also spent the last year re-investing in my career in financial services.  This new endeavor means an hour-long commute in each direction (worse sometimes with traffic), and a tremendous amount of mental commitment throughout the day, but it's also been a wonderful opportunity to reconnect with the other side of my brain, and try to build something that could revolutionize private markets.

I think that brings me to today - listening to a podcast about women and eating disorders on my commute from the office to the gym.  I was aghast at how little depth or substance the speakers shared in terms of their own experience and their expertise in helping people with these issues come to terms with body image, their relationships with food, and most importantly in my view, healing their hearts.  I found myself craving the opportunity to share my own experience with anyone who could benefit, because as always I hope that the struggles and triumphs I have experienced can help to enrich the lives of those around me - I want anyone interested to benefit from my experience without having to live through some of the pain first hand.

US Nationals 2014: Recap

This weekend I competed in the US NATIONAL WEIGHTLIFTING CHAMPIONSHIPS 2014 in Salt Lake City, Utah.  I opened at 88kg/194lbs (1kg less than my competition PR, but a lift I consistently make in practice, and only 2kg more than my last successful warm up) and missed all three attempts, alongside my friend and competitor Samantha Poeth.  In the Clean & Jerk I was determined to go back out there and win a medal, but on my warm up attempt at 110kg I feared it was not to be as I started to feel the effects of having lost 1.5kg/3.3 lbs in the prior 24 hours.  I did manage to make my opener at 114kg/251lbs (which is the heaviest opener I've ever attempted), but was unsuccessful on the jerk of both subsequent attempts at 117kg/257lbs.  I did manage to place 4th in the clean & jerk, but overall it wasn't at all what I had hoped for the competition, nor was it reflective of the progress I've been making in training.

Below is the text of a blog post I wrote for our gym, Arena Ready, about the experience, my takeaways, and my outlook on my future as a weightlifter.

The credit belongs to the athlete in the arena who strives valiantly, dares greatly and knows both victory and defeat.

We named Arena Ready as a tribute to Theodore Roosevelt's famous quote from "Citizenship in a Republic," which is meaningful to us for various reasons, not the least of which that we believe it's true. 

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

There is no such thing as the easy path.  I know that as well as anyone, and while I would like to say this weekend didn't go as planned, that would sort of be a lie.  While I've worked really hard, tried my best, overcome some serious obstacles, and maintained faith in my abilities, a big part of me didn't think I was good enough to reach my goals this weekend, and my doubt defeated my hope.

Sure, I could have (and in hindsight, perhaps should have) played it safe, gone for conservative lifts and a medal, maintained a higher bodyweight, and in general been more cautious, but that wouldn't have been true to what I was trying to accomplish.

I wanted to post a total high enough to qualify for the World Team.  Unfortunately, while my body might be ready for that (in training I've snatched 92kg/203lbs, cleaned 125kg/275lbs, and jerked 128kg/282 lbs), my mind isn't quite yet.  There is a big part of me that doesn't believe I'm there - I'm a little scared I'm still hurt, or that I'll get hurt again, I'm in tremendous awe of the women I compete against, and it hasn't quite sunk in yet that I'm also capable of some of the incredible things they can do.

As it turns out, and as we've known all along, weightlifting is just as mental as it is physical, and although I've been lifting weights, and even competing in weightlifting, for a sort of long time now, my new goals have me feeling like a rookie again when it comes to the psychological aspects of taking this sport seriously.

The reality is, the pursuit of any goal is typically far more frustrating than it is delightful.  The end result is almost never guaranteed, and for every Olympian there are probably 100 if not 1,000 other athletes who wanted to make it just as badly, and maybe even tried just as hard, but who never ended up making it.  I know this, and I'm not that deterred by this particular failure.  I was the lucky girl to finish 3rd in the 2012 USAW Nationals because of another girl's misfortune (she also bombed out in the snatch), and now I'm the one to bomb out.  Someone else got the shiny medal this time.  But I was still in the arena, striving to the best of my ability, and to me that is everything.

Well, almost everything.  I've seldom felt as loved as I have in the past 24 hours.  I have more new friends, more newfound faith in humanity, and a much deeper love for quite a few people as a result of this failure.  I finally understand that "fans" want everyone to succeed.  They don't do the math.  They want us all to succeed even though only one can be the winner.  And when we fail, while they're happy for the victor, they still love the losers and want to see them succeed at some point in the future.  My parents and grandparents were able to be in the audience - this was the first time they've ever seen a weightlifting competition - and they still thought it was really cool, especially because I didn't drop the bar on my head.  My coaches did an incredible job as they always do, and we learned a few things to apply to the next big competition.  It looks like I may still have an opportunity to benefit from the incredible resources at the Olympic Training Center, and I'll most likely have another shot at a World Team, I'll just have to wait until next year.  I also received some of the most thoughtful emails and cards from people in our Arena Ready community, and it helped to remind me that it isn't even mostly about lifting all the weights.

I'm as committed as ever, but this weekend my focus shifted from a very narrow goal to a much less specific one - to become the very best weightlifter I can be, and to let the chips fall where they may.  I've also decided to publicly share a lot more details of my training, nutrition and journey in general because it seems like maybe I can help a few of the tall girls out there who think our height is a disadvantage.  And maybe I can even help a few short girls and guy or two along the way.  You can follow me on Twitter @sarahhopping1 or Instagram at @sarahhopping.  I'm planning to do my best to post some highlights, lowlights, and if I have any, insights.  This is to thank a community that has done so much for me - I'm hoping that exposing more of my highs and lows will help you to become better weightlifters, or maybe even enter your own arenas.

Finally, this post would be lacking something if I didn't mention how awesome the weekend was in every way except for my performance.  USA Weightlifting ran the meet incredibly smoothly despite accommodating twice as many participants as last year.  The event organizers did a great job in selecting and setting up the event venue, and we even got upgraded to an enourmous suite with a full kitchen which was an incredible blessing.  Brickwall CrossFit welcomed all of the athletes to take over their gym as a training hall for the whole weekend, and their gorgeous facility provided all that we needed and more.  Coach Hillary competed awesome, as did our friends Jes, Jenny, D'Angelo, Sarabeth, John, and many others.  We saw several American Records fall, and some really intense battles fought.  And Rob was my rock, as always, encouraging me through the months of hangriness, the days of debilitating doubt and fear, the weeks of injury and pain, and the crushing stress of trying to do something I wasn't quite ready to do. It's rare that everything leading up to an event is perfect, perhaps that's why I had to go and mess it up!

A final thank you for all of your thoughts, wishes, encouragement, prayers and love.  I couldn't do this without you.

The Importance of a Femur

I competed in the Hassle Free Invitational on March 9th, and was able to snatch 89kg and clean and jerk 119kg for a 208 kg total as a 75kg lifter.  I set several PRs in the competition - most notably, a competition snatch PR, a lifetime squat clean PR (I've power cleaned 120kg, so I'm nearly there), a lifetime jerk PR and jerk attempt PR, and a first-ever fail behind on snatch at 92kg (which would have been a lifetime PR, and enough to qualify me for the Pan Am team).  It was a pretty incredible day, and I felt honored to work with Coach Smalcerz, Coach Doherty, and my very own Robbie Star.  I tied for second in my weight class in terms of total, but finished 3rd overall because I outweighed my competitor by .2kg.  To give a sense of the caliber of this competition, the winner broke the American Records in Snatch, Clean & Jerk, and Total.  2nd place is ranked 2nd in the country in our weight class, and my numbers broke the PWA clean & jerk and total records.

The competition felt like the beginning of a dream come true.  My Arena Ready family was out in full force, I felt the love from my brand new Hassle Free family, and a few other close friends and family were in attendance and watching online as well. When they announced us at the beginning of the competition, the cheers brought me to tears.  I managed to cut weight successfully, trust the process, and feel strong on the platform even though I'd been nearly passing out in practice due to hunger for the past two weeks.  I was extremely proud of the way I competed.

My total was just short of what I needed to make the Pan Am team, so I was able to shift my focus to Nationals in July.  This time frame also allowed me to participate in three of the CrossFit Open workouts, which really made my day.  I was lifting great, and CrossFitting surprisingly well (which makes me even more excited to go back to CrossFitting when that time comes).  I did experience a slight back injury during my first workout after the competition, but that resolved pretty quickly, and I was building huge weightlifting castles in my mind.

Then, a consistently tight right quad got my attention and I went in to see the fantastic Dr. Rabbetz.  Much to my surprise, he diagnosed me with a femoral stress fracture.  Just like that I was out.  O. U. T. out.  Not allowed to do anything that flexed my quad.  On crutches.  Outlook unsure.  Recovery could take four weeks.  Or years.

Initially I was totally optimistic and unphased.  I did the math and knew I still had time to recover and come back to train for Nationals.  I was glad I hadn't qualified for Pan Am's (reminiscent of how glad I ended up being I didn't qualify for the CrossFit Games in 2013 due to a partially torn rotator cuff I'd similarly ignored leading up to Regionals).  As my time on crutches dragged on, it was hard for my heart to maintain its game face.  I started doubting myself, my ambition, my age, pretty much everything.  I started daydreaming about going back to CrossFit early, and giving up.

I realized, as usual, that giving up forms the basis of my only guarantee.  The reason talented athletes don't reach their potential sometimes is because the going gets tough and they quit. They can't see the other side.  It often has nothing to do with their potential.  Everyone gets hurt.  Training is always hard.  But if you give up you're done.

So, I tried not to give up.  I did what I could to heal fast.  I actually didn't flex my quad.  I used my crutches (for the most part).  I also was careful to maintain my new weight so I wouldn't have to cut again when the time came.  I visualized the snatch like crazy - I watched videos, I talked Rob's ear off, I coached, I tried to figure out where my technique differs from what everyone is trying to get me to do.  I figured it out in my mind.

Now, I'm back on the platform.  I've lifted 6 days in a row, and I'm getting close enough to pre-injury numbers that I'm a little less depressed.  The first time I tried to jerk 95kg this week I nearly crumbled.  It felt SO heavy.  And IMPOSSIBLE.  But today I jerked 102kg and stopped to make sure I didn't overdo it.  I've snatched 80kg and had a few good attempts at 85kg.  I'm not where I'd like to be right now, but I'm still trying.  I haven't given up, and I'm even more grateful that this is one of the things I get to look forward to in my day.

Outlook uncertain.  But I'm not giving up!  I'm planning to compete at the PWA Championships this weekend, and am hoping to snatch well.  Nationals are mid-July, and that remains my primary focus at the moment!

Out for the 2014 Open

Sometimes life changes in ways you never could have anticipated.  In 2011 I completed 11.1 less than three months after having a plate installed in my broken elbow and scored just over 7 rounds.  Today I completed only 33 reps of the same workout because I'm competing in a qualifier for the Pan Am Games in weightlifting next weekend, and that was all I felt comfortable doing without influencing my chances of competing well.

As recently as mid-January, my training was pretty much 95% CrossFit weaknesses and 5% weightlifting program.  My training was at the highest volume it had ever been, but I never did heavy squats or squat cleans because my primary focus was on getting 10 consecutive muscle ups, 40 consecutive handstand pushups and a time on "2007" that I wouldn't be totally embarrassed about.  I believe I was fitter than I had ever been, and more excited than ever to try to make the CrossFit Games.  I believe that my chances were better this year than ever before.

But, suddenly a dream I've had my entire life has actually started to come true.  It appears I may have a shot at representing our country in weightlifting.  I was about as close as a person can be in track and field in 2008 despite some tough circumstances, and I was about as close to making the CrossFit Games as you can be in 2013.  I want to write a different ending to this story.  I want to find a way to make it the rest of the way to my goal, and it seems this may finally be my chance.  My PRs are climbing, I'm squatting nearly every day, and I believe I'm just getting started.

When I initially considered this change of focus, and this new pursuit, I found myself wishing for a guarantee.  I wanted a guarantee that I would make it, that the sacrifice would be worth it, that I wouldn't find myself disappointed again.  But, I finally realized that not trying is the basis for the only guarantee I could possibly have: that I will not make it if I don't try.

As a weightlifter, I get to spend every single day focusing on my strength.  As a CrossFitter, I've avoided pushing my limits in weightlifting because developing a specialty tends to come at the expense of general physical preparedness, i.e. being a better weightlifter made me a worse CrossFitter.  Now, I get to wake up every day excited to be a better weightlifter, and my joy about that has only grown in the past six weeks.  I've already formed wonderful relationships within the weightlifting community, and I'm thankful for the warm welcome I've received.

At the same time, I still love CrossFit with every ounce of my being.  It is the foundation of nearly everything positive in my life.  It's created two careers that I love - the Seminar Staff and my affiliate Arena Ready, it's the basis of a community I can't imagine my life without, it's helped me to finally form a healthy relationship with my body, and establish an identity that I desperately needed.  And, in four years of CrossFit (including a year healing the broken elbow) I've added 60 pounds to my snatch, nearly 100 pounds to my squat, 20 pounds to my clean and learned to jerk.  I wouldn't have had this opportunity if I weren't a CrossFitter.  So, although I can't compete in CrossFit while I'm pursuing weightlifting, I can certainly cheer, judge, coach, and love it, and I plan to do just that.

I plan to come back to the CrossFit Open at some point in the future.  I still hope to make the CrossFit Games someday, but for now, I am a really happy, excited weightlifter.  I hope to represent our country on an international stage, and I hope to finally reach a goal I've had since I can remember being capable of setting a goal.

Best of luck to my friends competing in the Open, and those who will go on to test their fitness at Regionals and the Games.  Now that I'm a spectator, I'm even more in awe of your incredible capacity and humble hearts.  I'll be cheering for you.

Stubborn

Sometimes people say that I was born the athlete I am today - suggesting that my ability to show up physically and mentally on game day is an innate attribute.  It is so hard for me not to argue when someone says that because of how hard I've worked to develop my physical and mental attributes throughout my life (since first watching the Olympics at age 5, I've been learning the art of the game face).

I was not born with the ability to compete well, nor am I a physical freak of nature.  I'm a little knock kneed, and my arms aren't the same length.  I've messed up literally hundreds of times in competition, only to experience the devastation that a poor performance brings, over and over again.

The only thing I may have been born with is stubbornness.  I may not reach my goal, but I will not give up on getting better.  I do not want to waste my life, and I do not let failure define my future. I want to be better tomorrow than I am today, so today I make choices which will influence my tomorrow.

Every time I fail on big and small stages (even when I miss lifts in practice), I look at the events leading up to the failure and try to evaluate what I could have done differently to reach a different outcome.  The next time I face that challenge I try not to make the same mistakes again.  I'm constantly thinking through my strategy for the upcoming day, month, and year to try to plan ways that this year will be better than the last - how I'll be thinner, stronger, healthier, happier and more successful than I was the year before.

I was not born with it.  Neither were you.  But I have a good set of tools.  Today, I choose to use them.  Do you?