Attempt №3 is a visual narrative story with the prompt ‘a mistake that was made’ and is a story about a weightlifting competition from the athlete’s perspective. Read details about the project here or read the statement I wrote regarding the assignment prompt here.
In the story below the story is written from a narrator’s perspective and the italicized parts are from the athlete’s perspective.
The sport of weightlifting can be cruel. An athlete only gets six attempts on the platform in a competition — three attempts of two different lifts. Mistakes and fails occur in training and in competition regularly but it’s the mental strength to get back up that brings success.
Her warm up lifts in the back felt crisp.
She stepped towards the barbell, setup in the exact same way she always did while visualizing the lift perfectly, and then within seconds pulled the barbell up and over her head.
For anyone watching her in that moment, it looked effortless.
But for any Olympic weightlifter, they’ll tell you how much work went into making it look so effortless.
It was her turn in approximately four minutes. She walked over to the main platform and took a seat behind the curtain.
Her gaze was sharp and her focus was intense.
She had no reason to be nervous as she had done her starting weight numerous times in the past few months. Yet somehow, she always was.
There were just so many things that could go wrong.
Focus. You can do this.
Her first attempt went well and built her confidence for her second attempt.
About four minutes later, she confidently stepped onto the platform, took her stance behind the barbell that was 2 kg under her best ever. She cleared her mind, visualized the lift, setup, and pushed with force through her strong legs.
Before she knew it the bar was over her head and she caught it in a slightly unstable overhead squat.
It wasn’t perfect but I can save this.
Three officials and a crowd stared at her with curiosity while she stood up in a hurry, after taking a few steps forward to save the lift. Her elbow very subtly unlocked as she was standing but she didn’t feel it.
No lift.
“I think it’s there today, I think you can go up despite the last lift,” her coach told her. She swore they knew her capabilities better than she did.
If she made the next one, it would be a personal record.
If only.
Sitting behind the curtain waiting for her last attempt, she got lost in her thoughts.
Fuck, I want this so bad but this lift is so technical and frustrating and I must be crazy to love it so much. It is so easy to make one small mistake and thus missing a lift like the last one. But when it’s executed almost perfectly, it feels so effortless. Nothing compares to that effortless feeling. I want this next one to be effortless and almost perfect.
She then realized this exact reason is why she does it — and why she loves it so much.
I’m going to get it. I will get it.
She chalked her hands.
One minute on the clock started counting down.
“Use your legs… and control it,” her coach cued her as she walked onto the platform for the third time.
She was focused as she approached the barbell and setup the same way that she had done for every other lift that day. Routine was important in weightlifting. Another reason I love it. A successful lift has to be correct right from the start.
She controlled the path of the bar up her shins, moved her knees out of the way and then, using almost every other muscle in her body, she began to speed up the pull.
The next part was where she usually made the mistake of pulling herself under the bar too soon — full extension never came naturally to her. She knew she needed to be patient.
Her legs straightened and she stayed patient until the bar reached the perfect height.
At the exact right moment, she began pull herself under the barbell and received it in a squat position.
She felt that effortless feeling.
YES.
She smiled so big her face hurt as she stood up.
Good lift.
She dropped the weight and saw three white lights as she walked off the platform, still smiling. This kind of moment had to be one of the best as an athlete.
Shortly after, she sat behind the curtain awaiting her third and final clean and jerk attempt.
On the outside she appeared calm but on the inside, she was just trying to not fall apart. She knew what she needed to do.
I can’t believe I missed my first two clean and jerks in the same way—this is bad. What’s wrong with my elbows today and why won’t they stabilize in the receiving position?
Her first two clean and jerks were no lifts due to the elbow press outs.
Her confidence had taken her far enough to get the bar over her head… she just needed a little more control.
“Confidence and control—hold the receiving position if you must,” her coach said.
Right. I am in control. I just need to believe in myself.
If she missed her third clean and jerk, she wouldn’t get a total for this competition.
Any athlete who competes in this sport knows the pressure felt before the third attempt after missing the first two attempts of a single lift — the pressure of not getting a total. And furthermore, how hard it is to come back mentally and make the last one after the first two are missed.
You have to know how to fix your mistakes, you have to be mentally tough to not let the past get to you, you have to be willing to be gritty and fight, and most of all, you have to be feel the fear and do it anyway.
She felt some pressure but she loved this feeling. The pressure. Her mistakes always lit a fire inside.
She believes failing is the only way that teaches you how to fight and if you can’t fight, you’ll never win.
One minute on the clock began counting down. She chalked her hands and headed out onto the platform for the last time that day. Bittersweet, here we go.
She stared down at her feet to visualize the whole lift in her head for six seconds, cleared her mind, and then setup and gripped the bar.
And then she was ready.
She lifted her chin and chest upwards and began a patient first pull. Once the bar was past her knees, she continued pushing with her legs, sped up the pull and instantly met the bar in a full squat clean with her elbows out in front of her as she bounced up to a standing position in less than a second.
Weightlifting, like many sports, is fast — if you look away for even one second, you’ll miss all of this.
She stood there for a brief moment while holding the bar in front of her resting on her shoulders. All eyes were on her, it was dead quiet in the room, and she could hear her own breath. The crowd probably could too.
Believe you can.
She bent her legs slightly and then exploded upwards, which sent the bar over her head in one smooth motion.
She pushed her head forward. She paused. Her gaze was steady on the floor about 10 feet in front of her. She recovered and straightened her legs so she was standing upright. She didn’t move. She was in control. Her entire body was solid.
Good lift.
Dropping the weight, she excitedly ran off the platform breathless and full of adrenaline.
“Well, I guess you thrive with a little bit of pressure,” her coach told her behind the curtain as they fist bumped her. Of course, she already knew this; she was okay with this.
I didn’t mean to miss three lifts that day but it can always happen—but it’s okay to fail, even in a competition. I know I’m strong enough to come back. I’ll always come back.
She’s a fighter.
Whether an athlete makes a lift look effortless or fails, they have to remain mentally tough enough to always believe in themselves enough to keep fighting.
If an athlete can learn to do that, they will always give their best effort, and there’s a better chance of success.
