First of all, understand that I am not a weight lifter. Not really. But, weight lifting is one place where I have experienced a tiny hint of what I think is an evolving realization about confidence. Here's what I've got so far:
In a sense, weight lifting is a solo effort; you are alone in the squat rack and you are the one actually lifting the bar. Theoretically, you could do it all on your own - and lots of people do (more on that in future posts). But lots of people also opt to have a spotter, and that's how I was taught to do it. Why have a spotter? The answer may seem obvious for the sports-regulars out there, but, for the uninitiated like me, this was a curious and intimidating behavior: the whole thing seemed very impressive in an "I don't know what is happening here but this seems like something I should be very impressed by" kinda way. It is still curious but it is no longer intimidating. Let me talk about the intimidation part first.
When I first started at the gym I would never, ever, ever have asked for a spot. Of course, not asking is exactly wrong, but let me explain my reasoning. When I started at the gym, I thought I couldn't possibly lift enough to really need a spot. Other girls were (and still are) lifting way more than me - forget about the guys. My little baby weight was a joke. Was I really going to ask someone to do whatever it was that a spotter was doing for me and my light-weight bar? (Yes, fancy double entendre there.)
I'm not sure I even understood what I was thinking, but I had the idea that I should just power through on my own, and when - if - I ever got to some magically respectable weight, THEN I could ask for a spot. THEN I'd be legitimate and would not make a fool out of myself for either thinking I was a bigger deal than I am, OR showing my struggle with a weight all the other girls did for warm up (or, to double up on the humiliation, both). Really, though, this is all retrospective insight. I don't remember thinking it through all that much. I'm not in the "can I get a spot?" category - that was just what I assumed. That's for the strong girls who are doing this for real.
As it turns out, I didn't even get the chance for all my inferiority, anxiety, gym-etiquette ignorance, insecurity, non-spotworthy over and under thinking, unconscious intimidation to play out. (Yes, all that.) I didn't have to ask for a spot; it was just there without my inner drama having any tangible manifestation. All of a sudden, somebody else was there in the rack with me, encouraging, critiquing: "stand the f*** up!". So I did. Because that's how it's done. And that was it. Like nothing and everything at the exact same time.
And that leads me back to the curious part, the thinking part (blog title reference). What's happening here? What does that spotter actually do? In reality, chances are better than not that they aren't going to lift the bar for you; you could just bail out if you get in trouble. Why INVITE someone else in to witness your failure? Doesn't it make more sense to invite others in to witness your effortless success so that they can reinforce your self-admiration and generally attest to your worthiness? Don't ya get good before ya go public?
So, here's what I'm starting to think: While there are real weight-lifting reasons for a spotter and technical ways to do it right, the real truth is that the spotter is there to lift ME. I'm learning that the right spotter is kind of in it with you, making sure you have good form, ready to help if you get in trouble, motivating you to push harder than you would on your own. The right spotter is there to tell you to get UP, that you can do it, that you can and you will. The right spotter inspires you such that you want to please them and not let them down, and all of a sudden you realize that this thing you thought you were doing by yourself has turned into kind of a team sport. You are doing it but your belief that you can do it is feeding off the energy that you are getting from someone else. Your confidence in yourself is lifted by the confidence you have in knowing you are not alone, that somebody you trust and admire is right there. So, you stand the f*** up. Or, at least you try really, really hard.
Can I get a spot? Those words that I thought I would never be good enough to utter to another human being turn out to be the source of, not the result of, the confidence that I seek. And, that leads to the days when I don't need that spotter, after all...
In a sense, weight lifting is a solo effort; you are alone in the squat rack and you are the one actually lifting the bar. Theoretically, you could do it all on your own - and lots of people do (more on that in future posts). But lots of people also opt to have a spotter, and that's how I was taught to do it. Why have a spotter? The answer may seem obvious for the sports-regulars out there, but, for the uninitiated like me, this was a curious and intimidating behavior: the whole thing seemed very impressive in an "I don't know what is happening here but this seems like something I should be very impressed by" kinda way. It is still curious but it is no longer intimidating. Let me talk about the intimidation part first.
When I first started at the gym I would never, ever, ever have asked for a spot. Of course, not asking is exactly wrong, but let me explain my reasoning. When I started at the gym, I thought I couldn't possibly lift enough to really need a spot. Other girls were (and still are) lifting way more than me - forget about the guys. My little baby weight was a joke. Was I really going to ask someone to do whatever it was that a spotter was doing for me and my light-weight bar? (Yes, fancy double entendre there.)
I'm not sure I even understood what I was thinking, but I had the idea that I should just power through on my own, and when - if - I ever got to some magically respectable weight, THEN I could ask for a spot. THEN I'd be legitimate and would not make a fool out of myself for either thinking I was a bigger deal than I am, OR showing my struggle with a weight all the other girls did for warm up (or, to double up on the humiliation, both). Really, though, this is all retrospective insight. I don't remember thinking it through all that much. I'm not in the "can I get a spot?" category - that was just what I assumed. That's for the strong girls who are doing this for real.
As it turns out, I didn't even get the chance for all my inferiority, anxiety, gym-etiquette ignorance, insecurity, non-spotworthy over and under thinking, unconscious intimidation to play out. (Yes, all that.) I didn't have to ask for a spot; it was just there without my inner drama having any tangible manifestation. All of a sudden, somebody else was there in the rack with me, encouraging, critiquing: "stand the f*** up!". So I did. Because that's how it's done. And that was it. Like nothing and everything at the exact same time.
And that leads me back to the curious part, the thinking part (blog title reference). What's happening here? What does that spotter actually do? In reality, chances are better than not that they aren't going to lift the bar for you; you could just bail out if you get in trouble. Why INVITE someone else in to witness your failure? Doesn't it make more sense to invite others in to witness your effortless success so that they can reinforce your self-admiration and generally attest to your worthiness? Don't ya get good before ya go public?
So, here's what I'm starting to think: While there are real weight-lifting reasons for a spotter and technical ways to do it right, the real truth is that the spotter is there to lift ME. I'm learning that the right spotter is kind of in it with you, making sure you have good form, ready to help if you get in trouble, motivating you to push harder than you would on your own. The right spotter is there to tell you to get UP, that you can do it, that you can and you will. The right spotter inspires you such that you want to please them and not let them down, and all of a sudden you realize that this thing you thought you were doing by yourself has turned into kind of a team sport. You are doing it but your belief that you can do it is feeding off the energy that you are getting from someone else. Your confidence in yourself is lifted by the confidence you have in knowing you are not alone, that somebody you trust and admire is right there. So, you stand the f*** up. Or, at least you try really, really hard.
Can I get a spot? Those words that I thought I would never be good enough to utter to another human being turn out to be the source of, not the result of, the confidence that I seek. And, that leads to the days when I don't need that spotter, after all...