Road to Nationals: Week 12 - Knowing when to bow out, and knowing when to dig in...

What's good, people!?

No videos. No Competition. No nothing.

I know; riveting. Let me explain:

About two months ago, I signed up for a competition in North Jersey, The USAPL New Jersey Winter War. I was looking forward to a mid-year competition in an attempt to better improve my overall national ranking going into Nationals this Fall but, as many of you are well aware, Mother Nature had other plans.

The blizzard that wreaked havoc all along the North East more or less put New Jersey to a standstill. Though I had every intention competing, and after a long afternoon and an early morning of shoveling out my car (for the second time), and after an offer was made by the meet director to carry my registration (and anyone else's) to another meet because of the state of emergency, I decided to bow out and take him up on his offer.

When I woke up at 6:30AM this morning, I still had every intention of competing, despite being pretty exhausted; but after another hour of shoveling (thanks, winter), I realized something pretty profound:

You're an idiot. 

Wait. I mean... I'm not talking to you, the  reader. What I meant was that I was talking to myself (It was one of those introspective, self-talk sort of things).

But about why I (and maybe you?) may be an idiot...

It's not all that complicated.

To think that you can put yourself into a caloric deficit, dehydrate yourself in an attempt to lose weight, and THEN shovel snow for several hours, sleep (poorly), wake up early to shovel again for an hour, sit in a car for two, and STILL be able to pull off personal bests in a competition is out-right foolish. What I realized was that I would rather save my body, eat a little, and then head to the gym to smoke some PRs, especially since I can save the $100 and put it towards a meet in the summer (fingers crossed for no blizzards) than risk bombing out, hitting disappointing numbers, or getting injured.

I could have easily said screw it, hopped in the car, and made it to the meet, but for what? Pride?

Was it a national level meet? No.
Have I already qualified for nationals? Yes.
Was I going to break a state record? No.
Could I have potentially gotten injured / overtrained / bombed out: Yes.

Had I won the meet (and beaten the OTHER guy... meaning that there were only 2 of us in the weight class), I would have had, more or less, a participation trophy. This isn't a Tough Mudder. No one cares about the guy who "showed up and tried really hard."

For most people, this is a non-issue. Of course. Don't go. Who Cares?

But for people who like to compete, this quite the heartbreaker.

At the end of the day, though, putting pride, desire, and spite aside, this is a marathon, and you can't buy days on the calendar. Every day you don't make the most of what you need to is another day you fall behind.

NOTE: Sometimes, bowing out is smarter than digging in.

Be well, Warrior Poets.

All best,
C