On October 3rd, I will be lifting in the under 50kg class at the World Para Powerlifting Championships in Mexico City. To say I am excited about this would be a classic bit of understatement.
Heading out onto the platform with my coach, Matt Barlow, at the British Championships this year.
This is my first international as a para powerlifter (though I’ve competed internationally in able-bodied competition) and my first competition on this scale. I’ve got just over five weeks until I’m on the platform (and yes, I can tell you how many more days, and how many more training sessions I’ve got between now and then.)
Training is going well, as I learn to use the strap for stability, tighten up my technical precision, and just keep pushing the kilos. Rep by rep, kilo by kilo. And with hour by hour of sleep. (That’s always going to be one of my biggest challenges.) And pre-lift dance by dance.
I am so fortunate to have this opportunity–to be going with the GB squad, to try to reach the level I am aiming for, to lift among the very best in the world, and to be part of this sport.
It’s hard to believe that five years ago I’d never even touched a barbell. And that finding a sport that fits you, and people who will believe in you can take you so far and so fast. Thank you to everyone who has stood by me along the way. Buckle up: we’ve got a long way to go!
In which I get my first World Para Powerlifting ranking, and for one brief shining moment I am in the top ten.
The British Championships in Coventry last month were the first IPC approved competition I’ve done, and, now I’ve also been classified, my results went through for ranking. And I made it into the top ten:
Screenshot: World Para Powerlifting 50kg rankings, August 2017
Now it’s time for the caveats: this is top ten of the under 50kg class women who have competed at an IPC sanctioned competition so far this year. It’s early in the year, and still a few weeks ahead of the World Championships, which means that I will soon be shoved unceremoniously down this list when more of the top tier lifters come out to play.
If I check the para powerlifting rankings over the past two years, including Rio, I sit at number 20. Still respectable, for a first outing, and something I know I can improve.
Do I want to reach the point where I finish a year in the top ten? Of course! It’s something that went straight onto my list of goals. Probably for next year, though.
But, right now, I’m enjoying that single-digit ranking moment. However brief it may be.
It’s taken me a couple of weeks to write something I could share about my performance at the British Championships on the 16 July. When you win, or when meet your goals, it’s easy to find the positive, and addressing the faults and negatives feels safe. When you fall short, and make mistakes, however, there’s a tricky line between beating yourself up, and looking honestly and usefully at what you need to fix, and between sinking into disappointment, and acknowledging what you have achieved anyway. And wallowing is horrid to read. So here’s a happy post about a bad day.
So, how did it actually go?
Not so well.
Three lifts went up, but only one counted.
I rushed my first lift (70kg) and was too quick off the chest. My second lift of 70kg was fine. My third lift of 73kg was given two reds, because my bum lifted from the bench.
So I came in fourth, with a 70kg lift at 48.0kg bodyweight. I’m not happy with this.
Reasons, not excuses
I loathe making excuses, but I’ve been reminded by people who care about me that I need to remember and acknowledge some of the reasons I’m not at the top of my form at the moment. Most importantly, that it’s been a difficult spring, and I lost a lot of training, a lot of sleep, and a lot of focus when dealing with my father’s illness and death.
With a little hindsight, just getting back to training, and competing at the British feels like an achievement. I didn’t back out. I was on the platform six weeks after arranging his funeral. Even if I did not perform as I had hoped, it was a big step back towards my goals, and towards honouring my dad’s principle: do your best. (He didn’t believe in trying, either. Just doing.)
Annoyingly, on the day, my nerve damage was playing havoc, and I had no feeling in my right leg or glutes. Which made it head to judge my position on the bench (such as whether my bum was up or down on that side.) That said, it shouldn’t be coming up anyway, and I should not be relying on that sensation to give me the cue.
Enough of the negative, tell me the good things
Three lifts went up, with no struggle.
I have now pressed over 1.5 times my own weight on the platform.
My strength felt solid, and even though I messed up, I did not get into my own head, and start second-guessing and doubting things. I never doubted that any of the lifts would go up. Not even for a flickering moment.
After a bad detour into comfort eating and poor nutrition (hello custard creams!) I managed to get my weight back down to 48kg, just 200g over my last comp weight. Still recomping, but I’m securely and comfortably within the 50kg class.
The mistakes I made are fixable or avoidable.
It’s fantastic to lift at a venue like the Ricoh Arena.
I am now Internationally Classified, with an IPC licence.
I have one more chance to qualify for the Commonwealth Games. So, I’m not out yet.
Being supported
(Photograph: On the platform, with Matt, just before setting up for a lift)
I get incredible support from some amazing people. Their belief in me sustains me even when I go a bit wobbly with doubt. (I’m going to write another post about this, but, for now… ) Two of them were there with me in Coventry: my coach, Matt, and my sister, Louise. That Matt flew back from his holiday for a 12 hour stay to ensure he was there with me was a huge gesture–on top of the practical and solid support he gives me. Just knowing he was doing that made it possible for me to do this. And not waver from that, even when things were at their lowest.
(photograph of a squishy-faced baby wonky donkey and her big sister. Awww.)
So what do I do to fix things?
Keep getting stronger, and focus my training on the technical issues. That would cover both the “get strong” and the “get good” parts of the deal.
That means I have already started training to use the strap again. There’s an option, with para powerlifting, to have one or two straps across your legs and round the bench, to secure you. Everyone who competes has a lower body disability of some kind, and greater or lesser control of their legs and leg position. I’ve used it in the past, but I’ve not been using it for the past year, because I often train alone and so it’s hard to get consistency. But, if that’s going to keep my bum firmly planted on the bench, then I’ll get used to it and work with it, whatever it takes. Because it would be crazy to give away any more lifts for an avoidable reason.
Oh, and slow down. No more rushing. No more micro-pauses. Use the strength and show the refs a good solid stop.
And a little musical finale…
Oh, listen to me children and-a you will hear About the eliminatin’ of the negative And the accent on the positive And gather ’round me children if you’re willin’ And sit tight while I start reviewin’ The attitude of doin’ right
You’ve gotta accentuate the positive Eliminate the negative Latch on to the affirmative Don’t mess with Mister In-Between
You’ve got to spread joy up to the maximum Bring gloom, down to the minimum Otherwise pandemonium Liable to walk upon the scene
So: Get good, get strong, and get it done. Easy, right?
I’m nine days out from the British, and still getting the work in, and still going through the traditional rollercoaster feelings from the highs of “aw yes, I’m pretty good at this stuff” swooping down to the stomach-lurching “argh, I forgot how to bench” via “why is this suddenly heavy?!” and “weird, did I forget to put those extra 5kg plates on?”
Add in the surreal pre-competition dreams, and this is the now-expected ebb and flow. Even though I have learned to expect it, I still get caught out by the emotions that come with the ups and downs. Until I remember that it’s just what happens, and then it becomes rather reassuring. It’s just part of the process, like fretting about how fat my knees look when I wear a singlet.
Most of the real roller-coastering, however, has come from paperwork. Or the lack of paperwork. Because this is the first officially IPC-approved competition I’ll have done, it will be the first time I will get an international ranking. But, first, I have to be classified–that is, to be checked that my disability meets the categories for this sport.
As I went through this on a national level a couple of years back, I was caught out by a request for medical records this week. I should probably have expected it, but i didn’t. And, I don’t have my medical records. Who does? It’s just not something you have a copy of, in the UK, unless something’s gone horribly wrong. I’ve got a copy of an x-ray or two, just because the radiographers were really nice, and agreed that they were interesting, and, oh, why not, here you go, etc.
But the IPC wanted official written records, with the evidence of why I have so little muscle power in my right leg.
No records = no classification = no ranking = no qualification.
Yikes.**
Oh, there’s a process for getting medical records in the UK. There are standard release forms, and everything. And that process takes between three and seven weeks. SEVEN WEEKS. Seven. And everyone I needed to talk to had gone home*.
Cue: one horrible sleepless night of stress.
Next day, after a lot of phone calls, the generous help of BWL, and some huge acts of kindness and photocopying by the lawyers at the Infirmary we turned the 40 day process into a 23 hour miracle. I got the notes, bwl got images of the notes, and IPC got the uploads. I am amazed, and so very grateful that this happened. And still more than a little stunned that this didn’t derail everything.
Now I’m just waiting to find out if the IPC is happy to accept the paperwork….
*except Matt. Who talked me out of full headless chicken mode and back into someone who gets things done.
**This was a lot more sweary than “yikes” at the time. A lot. Of course.
Wonky Donkey is an ad hoc collection of blog posts, training videos, & oddments about powerlifting and para-powerlifting.
