Hannah is 8 for 8

TO ALL OF YOU WHO BELIEVED IN ME…

To Dave Tate, Jim Wendler, the entire staff of EFS, Biotest, my teammates, my Mama, my Everything Matt, Chad, and especially you the readers: THANK YOU.

I had originally anticipated doing Will and Marge’s meet in March, but due to scheduling difficulties and lack of training time, I decided the safe bet would be to plan on a later meet. I was thrilled to hear that Patrick Flynn was planning to host this meet in Myrtle Beach, because not only did it give me plenty more training time, but it was at the beach. ‘Nuff said right there. Matt’s brother, Anthony and nephew Luke, were also planning to come with us, so we all planned a sort of vacation.

The week or so before the meet I was just really “iffy” about whether or not I could/would/should squat. It put me in a bit of a mental funk, because I was torn between what I wanted to do, and what I felt like I would be able to do. The rational side of me was thinking “Seriously, Hannah- your knee is absolutely not reliable enough to squat heavy enough to PR. Who would pay your bills if you got hurt? Is it really that important?” Then, the competitive, snarly inner voice chimed in “That’s right, meow-meow, you’re going to hurt yourself. Really? You’re planning to bench 300 pounds! Why don’t you just back out of the meet for fear of blowing both of your shoulders out? With the amount of weight you’re going to be totaling you run the risk of being in a full-body cast anyway, so what’s it matter? Go ahead and call Will and Marge and tell them you can’t come because you’re too much of a meow-meow.” (Once again, dear readers, I censor my inner voice for you. Of course she didn’t say “meow-meow.”)

So I decided last week to squat and took my 405 opener with no problem in the gym, crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.

Chad, Matt, Anthony, Luke and I were planning to head to Myrtle Beach on Thursday so I would have plenty of time to relax and sauna if I needed to before making weight. Then on Wednesday evening we realized we had a major problem. I mean, like a catastrophic problem. We made our hotel reservations online, and when I called to confirm them on Wednesday afternoon we were told that somehow our reservations had been lost. The hotel was now sold out. No amount of sweet-talking, bad-mouthing or even howling agony could get us three rooms for the weekend. I realized we were quite possibly going to have to pay upwards of $250 a night for the only hotels that had vacancy, so I did what any responsible, mature adult would do:
I called my Mama.

My parents have a beautiful home in Myrtle Beach. I knew they usually preferred not to have guests, especially unfamiliar ones, so it took a whole lot of hard swallowing and sweaty hands to pick up the phone and tell my mom we needed a place to stay. It’s extremely hard for me to invite myself to anything, especially to ask my parents if three people they’ve never met can stay in their immaculate beach home. I hung the phone up three separate times and tried more hotels, getting more discouraged each time. $318 a night. $296 a night. Ooh! This one says reasonable rates! $199 a night. Oh, Lord.

Turns out I should’ve asked my Mama first.
She immediately chirped “Oh, sure you guys can stay! I’ll come down and we’ll all go out to the Tanger Outlets, and dinner, and then I’ll make homemade ice cream!” What? For a second I thought all those astronomical hotel rates had made me lose my hearing, or distorted it, or something. You learn something new every day. My lesson for that day? To never underestimate how much your Mama loves you. (Even when the thought of you lifting a lot of weight makes her visibly cringe, and she probably wishes every day you would take up a less strenuous hobby like shopping, or gardening, or maybe painting watercolors on the beach.)

As luck would have it, my parent’s place was only about four miles from the meet location. We got there at anout 9 AM and waited impatiently while holding two liters of Parent’s Choice (which is the Wal-Mart brand of pedialyte and literally half the price.) Funny side note: We all stopped at Wally World before we got to my parent’s house and loaded up on groceries and snacks and, of course, Parent’s Choice. I bought ten (10) liters just in case I needed them, since they are a bit watered down.

At checkout the cashier looked sympathetic as she rung up all of the bottles and asked “Awwwww, you got a sick baby, do ya?” Matt laughed and pointed at me. “Well, we’re from out of town, and she’s got to make weight for a competition.” Apparently, the woman needed a whole, WHOLE lot more explaining before she was going to understand what a sick baby had to do with me competing in anything. She started muttering under her breath about who would ever leave a sick baby at home and come to the beach. Some how, some way, we always manage to get ourselves into an awkward situation. We need a reality show.

Anywho, I weighed in at exactly 147 pounds, which is just perfect. Last year I was 146, so I’m pretty happy I’ve stayed at a pretty consistent body weight for this training cycle. I have a tendency to get chunky quick if I indulge in too many groceries, so that’s a key focus of mine during training.

After weigh-ins we went to…IHOP, of course. I was pretty careful this time not to eat too much. It was almost ninety degrees already at 10 AM, so the last thing I needed was to be nauseated. I did drink fluids steadily all day, which really helped get my general morale up again. Something about being fluid deprived in this kind of heat makes me insanely cranky. Another downside of being dehydrated was my knees were killing me. I mean, they were creaking and cracking and just aching like crazy. I couldn’t help myself; I got a bit panicky for awhile. I was hoping once I got re-hydrated that the aching would go away. After I got to feeling good again, the feeding frenzy began. You name it, we ate it on Friday. Pop Tarts, Fruit Loops, Lucky Charms, Snickers, Reeses Cups, roast beef sandwiches, Jamoca Almond Fudge milkshakes from Baskin Robbins, bananas, and several big, BIG shakes made of Biotest’s Surge Recovery and skim milk. I’m not playing around- that stuff is like the finest milkshake I’ve ever sucked down. No joke, if you haven’t tried it, you’re missing out. It’s awesome. We also went to a huge seafood buffet complete with crab legs, where I got my money’s worth and also anyone else’s who didn’t get theirs.

By Friday evening I was back up to 151, which felt great. I mean, I was really, REALLY full and really, REALLY happy. I went to sleep with a big belly and PR dreams. My mother came and sat down next to me, just me and her, and said “I’m really praying for you to win.” I explained that it’s not like a boxing match; I just want to do better than I did last meet. She then said, “Well, then I’m praying that you do better than you ever have before and meet all of your goals.” When I mentioned that my main goal was to bench 300 pounds, she got kind of an odd look on her face, like she suddenly wasn’t sure if she wanted to ask the Lord to help me lift quite that much weight. To someone who doesn’t know a lot about powerlifting, 300 pounds seems impossible. But to her credit, she gave me a hug and wished me luck anyway.

MEET DAY

Let me start by saying that this was the most beautiful venue at which I have ever had the privilege of lifting. The Aquatics Center is just a phenomenal place; the staff and the members alike were just so supportive and interested in what was going on. Patrick Flynn did an outstanding job with the venue for sure. At any given time we had a good 60-80 people watching. The crowd was amazing. There were people there who had stopped in after their workouts, not knowing ANY of the lifters, and cheering like mad for EVERYONE. I mean, they were doing the “Woo! Woo!” for every lifter. Let me just say that as a lifter it makes such a huge impact when the audience is into the meet. It really gets you pumped and excited about showing them what you can do. Today…today was the best meet I’ve ever had. I went 8/8 lifts. I know, that’s not 9/9, but I didn’t take nine lifts.

SQUAT
1st Attempt 405lbs Good: 3 Whites

2nd Attempt 435lbs Good: 3 Whites

3rd Attempt 450lbs Good: 3 Whites

Yes, that’s me biting ammonia caps. No, I’m not that tough. It’s just one more way I get myself absolutely so jacked I can’t see straight. No, really. Like on the bench, I laid down and the ammonia fumes made tears run out of my eyes so badly that when I got up I looked like Marilyn Manson. Or Tammy Faye Baker. I don’t know which is worse. They’re definitely, um, effective. That’s also me at the end of the clip trying to pick up my discarded ammonia cap (because who leaves trash on the platform?) and just can’t bend over to get it. Then that’s me saying “You don’t have to get that; I put my mouth on it” (because who wants to pick up something with spit on it?) I am well aware that not everyone talks to the people on the platform, but I do. After my lifts that is NOT trash talking or anything- that’s me thanking the spotters, loaders and judges. Maybe that’s stupid or not necessary, but those guys need a raise, seriously. Besides that, if I ever DO get stapled, who do you think will be the ones saving my bedonkadonk?

BENCH
1st Attempt 275lbs Good: 3 Whites

(That’s “Bad Company” Remade by Five Finger Death Punch. Hearing it come on gave me chill bumps so bad it loosened my wristwraps.)

2nd Attempt 300lbs Good: 2 Whites

As you can see, I lost my freakin’ mind when I hit 300. I have no idea where that retarded jump off the bench came from. I also thanked the entire audience for coming and being so “durn” incredible. They cheered like crazy people for all of us lifters, and to have that kind of motivation from them was just unreal. It took what seemed like forever to bring the bar down, and I was fighting SO hard not to dump it. But after I got the press command there was no doubt in my mind that that sucka was coming UP. I remember waking up early Saturday morning and looking in the mirror at myself, and saying “I have trained too hard to fail. I will not fail. I am going into war, and I will come out on the other side with a victory.” Writing it now, it sounds so cheesy it could have come straight out of Gladiator. On the morning of the meet, however, I was ready to fight to the death. It’s funny how words affect you when they’re spoken with conviction. So, “ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?” (That line’s from Gladiator, by the way. I’m not really asking.)

I came to bench 300. I passed on my third attempt because I didn’t want to go for anything big and fail. I was saving up for the deadlift. I maybe, maybe had 315 in me, but it woud’ve took more effort than it was worth, and it would’ve been a gamble. Besides that, I think the ladies in the front row got their hair blown back after my 300 pound celebration, so they probably wanted me to pass on my third, too.

Deadlift

1st Attempt 405 lbs Good: 3 Whites

2nd Attempt 425 lbs Good: 3 Whites

3rd Attempt 450 lbs Good: 3Whites

This was just the crowning moment of my day. I actually said (again, kind of like I was just stuck with one phrase over and over in my head) “Thank ya’ll for being here.” Man, sometimes I just don’t know about me.

This post has been way too long already, but I just have to say again how great everyone was. After the meet Patrick had set up an AWESOME night of food and fun at Wild Wings Cafe, where we all ate our weight in chicken wings. Thanks to the audience, the spotters, loaders and judges, the fellow competitors, and the venue staff. Thanks to Will and Marge Millman, Patrick Flynn especially, who worked harder than anyone else to ensure that the meet went smoothly (I swear he didn’t sit down ONCE, all day) and of course to my team of Matt and Chad, who without them I wouldn’t have had videos or help with my gear. Matt’s nephew Luke also had an awesome day, deadlifting 475 at 15 years old. He’ll be an Elite totaler before long!

It was wonderful to see so many lifters there. Lindsey Craft, Cole, Cathy Knight, Donnie Thompson, Marc Bartley, Eric Hubbs, my mind is just drawing a blank from so many names and faces. By the way, Mr Eric Hubbs, NC APF Chairman, is putting on a meet in Greenville, SC on October 30. The info will be up soon on powerlifting Congress, and I’ll post the entry form. He would also like to make it known that they will need TWO monolifts for the meet- so if you can bring one, please let him or me know!! More details soon….

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