Competition.
I can remember when I fell in love with competition. I'm not sure when I started but, I can remember the night where my views on competition turned from playful games to something much more intimate. I found a something inside of me that I could tap into; something that made my world flash brightly with purpose.
I was sixteen or seventeen years old and it was track season. Which also was rudely interrupted by a busy choir "post season" of district, regional, and state competitions. It just so happened that the State Choir Competition was being held in San Antonio, Texas the same day as the District Track Meet in Arlington, Texas.
The choir trip was fun and we did well. I caused enough trouble to make Mrs. Hamill go about half crazy that I was going to stay in one of the girls rooms. The truth was, I couldn't hold a conversation with any of the guys before the conversation turned to YoYo tricks or some bullshit. So, I figured I'd try to drum up a date and I sure as hell wasn't going to do it with a gnarly trick from my sweet ass, Duncan Imperial Body, Double Bearing, YoYo.
Sup Girl? I'll get them digits after I "Walk the Dog"!!
Directly after the Choir Ensemble, a coach picks me up in his 2004 F150 and we hoof it to Arlington so that I can qualify in the 400m and 4 x 400m relay. We didn't stop. I peed in bottles and ate a sandwich that had been sitting in the cab for two days and a sleeve of cinnamon donuts. Just outside of Arlington, we receive a phone call telling us that they had run the 400m and I had missed my shot at qualifying for Regionals.
When we arrived at UTA, somehow, Coach Chris McKinney talked the state officials into letting me qualify on an empty track. I got out of the truck, threw my pee bottle to a teammate exclaiming, "Fresh apple juice, JB!" warmed up with a two hundred meter jog and hit the blocks. On an empty track. All eyes on me.
Bang! Starting gun blasts. As I round the first corner, I can feel the heat of the crowd and the guys that qualified; not the heat of other runners. On the back stretch I can hear my coach telling me to pace myself and to "keep pumpin!!". I remember thinking to myself, "Pace myself? Against who?"
And it hit me. Set the pace. Break the pace.
I hit the home stretch and there was a kid on the last corner that yelled, "You're not gonna make it!". I made my last kick with Coach McKinney & Smith trailing me, "MOVE YOUR BUTT!!" "KICK!!" "KICK!!" I crossed the line not knowing if I had sucked it up or proved the kid on the last corner wrong. I ended up running one of my best times and placed 2nd. Edging out the asshat on the corner by 2 seconds and costing him a trip to Regionals.
I came to run. So I did.
So, how the hell does this apply to BJJ? I'm sure I could twist this into some lesson about perseverance or some self righteous crap but, I'd rather not. It was a story of how I learned that to push my limits was to live and how I made a life out of that particular moment.
Now, competing is an integral part of my career and life. I love to test myself physically and find the mental challenges of these physical challenges the most rewarding part of that journey.
Recently I have been competing in BJJ like a mad man. In the last month I have traveled over 3,500 miles and competed in four different tournaments gaining mixed results against top tier competitors. Does this make me special? No. I have a desire to push my limits; to see if I belong where every fiber of my being tells me to be. All this competition only makes me more hungry, more willing and a little bit crazy.
Dealing with tough loses then, getting right back up to travel across the country to try my hand on a different playing field has taught me to not dwell on what HAS happened but what IS happening; a growth of character, an expansion of knowledge and a deeper love for myself and those around me.
There is no growth without discomfort.
I'll write about how I have dealt and am dealing with minor failures and big wins in my next entry.