3 Lessons Learned From The Platform

Reflections from a teacher-athlete who’s still learning how to show up and lift heavy.

I’m taking a page out of my teacher playbook and practicing what I preach.

For every activity I assign to my students, I require them to write a reflection, which they hate, of course.

Actually (and this is a total sidebar), when I told my son I do this, he said, and I quote, “You would be my least favorite teacher.”

Why? Because I actually care if you learn something?

“Yes!” he said.

sigh These kids! But I digress.

That said, I think the reflection is often more valuable than the project itself. I try to communicate to my students that the doing, regardless of the outcome, is how you learn. Unfortunately, this is a lesson many of them aren’t ready to hear yet, but they’ll get there. I did, and I wasn’t the best student back in the day. (I’ll save that story for another time.)

Today, I competed in my 6th Olympic lifting competition. I started competing in the summer of 2023 at the ripe old age of 47, and I was terrified. Stepping onto a platform with all eyes on you while attempting to lift something heavy is a lot of pressure. It’s mentally, physically, and emotionally challenging, which is probably why I’m slightly addicted to it.

I did well in my first few meets, making a run at Nationals in 2024 and even winning two gold medals for my age and weight class.

I was shocked, to be honest. I had a hard time accepting that win as something I’d earned. I chalked it up to luck because owning my accomplishments doesn’t come naturally. I’m scared of them. It’s easier to credit luck than hard work, because what happens when you do put in the hard work and you don’t win? What then? Is it just bad luck? Or were you not worthy of the win after all, and any past success was just… chance?

Does that make any sense?

Ugh. I hate the way my brain works. And that’s exactly why I’m here, reflecting on what I’ve learned.

1. Handle Things

I’m kicking this off with the most valuable lesson of all, inspired by a conversation I had with my online coach on Friday.

I admitted to him that I sometimes think it’s easier to compete not expecting much because then, if I don’t do well, I’m not disappointed. And if I do well, it’s a happy surprise! I prepare myself for the worst instead of confidently visualizing my success.

Even as I typed that, I realized how ridiculous it is. What kind of attitude is that for an athlete? Where is my confidence?

Basically, I’ve been walking into competitions with the expectation that I’ll do poorly to shield myself from disappointment.

My coach asked: What would happen if you went in confident and still failed?

I’d handle it. I’d learn from it. I’d earn the experience and move on to the next challenge.

That’s where I am right now.

I went into today more confident than in past competitions. I focused on my breath. I didn’t let one lift affect the next. I was more in the moment.

And guess what… going in confident and not doing the best wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be! If anything, I left today even more motivated to train and get better.

I saw my mistakes.

I learned from them.

I handled them.

2. Support Matters

I am so grateful for my friends and coaches.

This meet was about an hour away, and one of my teammates spontaneously showed up to support me. One of my coaches called me the night before. A few friends texted me before, during, and after the competition. I even got some encouraging DMs when I posted that I was at the event.

I often feel alone when training. I work out in the mornings while most of my teammates lift after work. And while weightlifting isn’t exactly a team sport—it’s personal, almost isolating—today I didn’t feel alone. I felt supported. And that is so important.

If you know someone pushing themselves outside their comfort zone, let them know you see them. It might mean more than you realize.

3. Age “Smage”

I’m purposefully being cheeky here. As an older athlete, I often feel a little out of place. I didn’t start my athletic endeavors until my 30s, and I didn’t get seriously competitive until my mid to late 40s.

Sometimes, I get a little down thinking I missed my prime. I wish I’d had this drive and competitive spirit when I was younger. Imagine what I could’ve accomplished!

But then I realize… what a waste of energy.

All I can do is give 100% now. I need to train for the future, not regret the past.

So here I am, doing exactly what I ask of my students because gold medals are nice, but the real win is the learning from your experiences.

If you are curious, here are all my lifts from today, fails (lessons learned), and all. :)