The Only Victory That Matters

It's 5:00 AM. In 3 hours, I will begin my first ever CrossFit competition, the Rumble on the River in Columbus, GA. I'm nervous.

There are going to be competitors there who are serious athletes. There are going to be men better at the things I'm not very good at and as good as me at the things I am. There's going to be a roaring crowd and a lot of noise and distraction. There's going to be swimming. Dammit, there's going to be swimming.

I probably won't be on the podium when it's all said and done. And that is of course where I say "that wasn't the point though was it" and launch into the real lesson about taking risks and overcoming the self doubt and taking the plunge. You know that bit is coming. 

But I do have to note first: I'm an adherent that participation is a fantastic goal, but I'm also a competitive person and I cannot help but admit, I want to win. I want it badly. I can't just go out and flop around and say it was fun. It's only fun if I look back and realize I left EVERYTHING out on the playing field. All my doubt, all my frustration, and all my pain. The sweat and the missteps and the  gut stitches and the blisters from the last few months of training aren't worth it if they didn't result in my giving it all.

So I'm going to go out there and give it my all. Every ounce of it. And I may not win. I probably won't. But that wasn't to point of entering (see? There it is).

This is the first thing I've done by myself, for myself, since I've been on my own. I've worked very hard. I've eaten strictly clean. I've trained every day for months, and twice a day for the past five weeks. I've put in the time. I've put in the effort. I've put in the heart and the commitment.

There's the victory. The commitment. I decided to do it. I signed up on a rainy night by myself in my room with no one there to convince me to do it. I mapped out my training. I planned my diet and my meals.

I made a decision to do it.

I won.

Go me.