“I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory is over self.”
Aristotle
Not too long ago I wrote a post about a three-gun shooting competition I was asked to compete in by a friend; he asked me to shoot for him as a sponsored shooter to promote his business. If you're keen you can read about it here. I promised to write about it but I haven't been able to find the motivation.
As you may read in the linked post above I take my responsibilities seriously and when someone pays me to compete I feel the need to perform. I knew I'd be that way so said no initially however caved in and said yes because he nagged me, and he's a good mate.
I had several weeks to sharpen up and got right into it training to do so. I had a less than ideal lead-in though as I had an operation and had to recover through some reasonably serious complications. I pushed on though and arrived on competition weekend feeling reasonable, although running would be an issue from the pain perspective. Liberal [and responsible] use of opioid-based pain killers would help though. I prefer not popping pills but didn't have much choice.
The weekend was a three gun run-and-gun competition involving rifle, semi-automatic handgun and shotgun across multiple stages in the field [not on a range]. It required strategy, accuracy and speed which meant shooting on the move and running. I could have taken it easy, but...Well you know, it's me and I'm not the take it easy sort of competitor really; especially so when being paid to shoot and to represent a brand.
Here's the part where I'm supposed to tell you I won the event...But I didn't.
I was hindered by the operation I'd had several weeks earlier and the pain I experienced over the weekend plus [here's the shameful part] some reasonably poor strategy-decisions on a couple of key shooting stages. After the first I reset pretty well; detached, evaluated then went back to it and was good to go for a little while...But then I made a stupid error [which in a real-world situation probably would have gotten me killed] and from there...Well it wasn't so good. If my name changed from G-dog to shit-dog it would have been appropriate.
That was day one and sitting in eighteenth place at the end of day one wasn't where I wanted to be. I sat around the fire that night brooding just a little bit - [This actually means a lot.] I wasn't feeling so good - knew I had to shake it - but didn't seem able to.
It wasn't long before I skulked away to clean and prepare my equipment for the second day. As I was doing so my mate came into my cabin, the mate who paid me to compete, and gave me a few kind and gentle words of wisdom.
He pretty much said: Hey you stupid fucker, I don't give a fuck how you shoot or where you finish in the competition. Take the pressure off yourself and go out there tomorrow and have some fun. Dumb prick!
Motivational huh? He dropped it then said, fuck you, I'm going to have a few drinks around the fire. Cowboy-up mother fucker, the walked out leaving me there a little dumbstruck. This was the censored version - His little motivational session was reasonably colourful.
Popped no pain pills. Gathered my equipment. Cowboyed-up.
Here's the part where I'm supposed to tell you I rocketed up the rankings in a blaze of glory and finished first...But I didn't.
Here's the part where I say my attitude improved though!
You see, I'd defeated myself on day one by putting so much pressure on myself to win - I'd forgotten the fun-factor. Yeah, shameful I know, especially since I don't really care much about winning; it's not life and death these days.
I wanted to win so badly though and to vindicate my mates choice of sponsoring me and not any number of other great shooters he could have used to represent his brand. I was holding on too tight which was affecting how I thought, acted and reacted. Rather than rely on my [not insignificant] skills, accept that I knew what I was doing, that it was natural to me, I was pushing too hard and that was forcing mistakes. Sure I could blame the pain from the operation I suppose, but I'm honest, even with myself, and I know that whist it was inconvenient it wasn't why I was messing up. I had self-imploded...And I know better than to do that!
Here's the part where I tell you I finished ninth of the seventy-plus competitors. Yeah yeah I know that's not too bad in hindsight but it still sort of hurts considering I feel quite confident I was a top three or four finisher. My day one hurt me badly though and I just couldn't recover from eighteenth to make it much higher. So...Ninth. My mate was pleased...I was annoyed but am pleased now, in hindsight.
I've written before about myself being my greatest competitor and how achieving my personal best in all aspects of my life is what I aim for, rather than winning. I allowed the pressure to perform through being a sponsored shooter, and not wanting to let my friend down, get the better of me which derailed my usually continuous-improvement focused ethos with predictable results. I should have known better, but we live and learn right?
I'm a humble man; I've learned humility throughout my lifetime and I feel it is one of my greatest strengths. That weekend, at that shooting event, hammered the need for it home. I'd allowed hubris to sneak in, some ego too if I'm honest, and I didn't like it and what it did to me. I'd love to blame my asshole buddy for making me shoot the event but ownership dictates that I take the blame. That's how I roll.
I had hoped to spin a tale of glorious victory after a brutal crushing of the enemy, in a humble way of course, but instead I'm here owning up to ego and hubris and a little self-doubt...If there was any doubt I'm a flawed and fallible human being it is dispelled now for sure.
It's funny really...Last week's #weekend-engagement post was about advice and wisdom and I received a comment last night [just after writing this post] from 
Design and create your ideal life, don't live it by default - Tomorrow isn't promised so be humble and kind
Discord: galenkp#9209
Image is mine.
