It's rare that I can finish a competition without feeling compelled to write about it.  I think it's usually a combination of extreme physical exhaustion and being a slightly overly sentimental person in general.  Okay fine, maybe more than "slightly".  My tired body will lay still and silent while my mind wanders far away.  I usually waltz into the land of metaphors and find great satisfaction in relating my competition experience to life in general.  I've learned a lot about who I am and what I'm made of by competing.  I do think this is one great reason to train and to compete - because while we are lifting and sweating we are actually learning a lot about ourselves and the world around us.  Metaphors abound.  Lessons are learned.  My mind wanders further and soon enough I'm not thinking about reps and times... I'm thinking about the meaning of life.

But on my way to today's competition, long before my post-WOD, blissed-out, pseudo-meditation... I had a much simpler appreciation for what this day was about to bring. 

Sometimes, the best part about competing is that for just a few hours, I don't have to think about anything beyond this event.  Just for now, nothing exists outside of this gym.  Nothing matters more than these three WODs.  I will bleed for burpees.  I will die for reps.  I will scream at the top of my lungs as my teammate lunges towards the finish line as if our lives depend on it.  Because it actually feels like our lives do depend on it.  All of my energy, everything that I have to give, is right here in this moment.  This is not a life lesson or a metaphor for something else. This is it. This. Is. It.

So tonight, instead of trying to define myself and my place in the world based on my performance, I am just going to sit here and appreciate the fact that I had the opportunity to experience a day of such incredible physical and emotional intensity.  Because that in itself is a gift.