Considering this most recent Olympia, Monday morning quarterbacking still continues. Some still say that the runner-up should have won, or that so-and-so making the podium was a gift, or that someone else was lucky just to make the top five. But when you really look at it with all the bark peeled off, primal and raw, Ricky Bobby was right: “If you’re not first, you’re last.”
There is only one Sandow, one man gets it, the rest don’t. It has nothing to do with rankings or prize money. It has to do with Mr. to be Olympia. There are no dollar signs in that position. You spend the prize money – hopefully wisely – but the title is entered with your bones.
In a subjectively won show it’s a hundred times worse because there’s an army of critics denouncing what I just said because the hairs splitting the judges grow on an atom. It could just as well go the other way, and exactly the same arguments will follow. But I’m still right: there is only one Mr. Olympia every year.
In the history books, a W is printed next to only one name. That’s it – no notes on how close it was, nor how deep the field was, or how close it was to the other man. All the crying in the world won’t change that. What does change – if you approach it smartly – is when you view your failure as an opportunity. If you do that, and I know many who do, you are one step closer to self-mastery, and that is true strength. If you walk away thinking you’ve been robbed, the top three are still pretty good. It’s all political. You just wasted a few months of your life preparing for that show – nothing is coming up. That’s a sad commentary on what a warrior should be.
The emotion that comes with not winning is undeniable, especially when you consider how close it can be and how easily you could have been in the middle of it. The true sportsman will be able to hide this very well in subsequent interviews, poetically portraying the strengths of his competition, but you know it’s there because it would be too if it were you. We are all human. But that should not be an excuse to be coddled by the result. You didn’t win. What do you do with that?
Back to the drawing board
The guys I know at the Olympia level – at least the old school guys – are on a quest for self-mastery that eclipses every other athletic endeavor on earth by an order of magnitude. The reason is simple: due to the nature of subjective assessment, many Olympians literally live every day and leave no stone unturned. Their diet is coordinated. Their training is the subject of books, and pre- and post-training modalities such as chiropractic and massage therapy are normal daily occurrences.
Then there is the rest: tanning beds, posing exercises, choreography, social media, psychological and spiritual guidance, sponsorship obligations. The list is a mile long and relentless.
Pro bodybuilding at the Olympia level is a 24/7/365 deal with only a few exceptions. The exceptions are usually the amount of time they will take off after the show. Some guys start the next day, Ronnie Coleman famously took four months off – today other guys do that too. Inevitably, there is a group that takes varying amounts of time off and a group that does not. Either way, the group that takes off departs from training alone. Everything else continues. Because these boys have extraordinary self-discipline, the basic principles of their quest have been laid out. It’s a reflex, it’s how they live. The only thing that changes is what happens in their brains. And luckily, the damaging part is quite simple.
The path to self-mastery is littered with the ruins that once consisted of self-doubt, low self-esteem, lack of discipleship, lack of intensity, and deviations from the path to excellence. These are intangible factors that you have paid attention to throughout your career. Because that’s where the meat is. All participants will train hard, do cardio, diet, take equipment.
After the show, it’s all about how you think. It is the way you judge the outcome and make decisions that will shape the next event. I know enough Olympians to know that they all have one thing in common: after the show, they all go back to the drawing board.
Especially Mr. O, because he’s the guy with the target on his head. And he’s in the mix with the rest – it’s a new season and everyone is starting from scratch with the same goal – to show up better next year and take home the Sandow.
The challenge becomes more challenging every year
And every year this becomes an increasingly greater challenge, putting the Olympia participants in a very unique group. Not only are the stakes higher, but everyone is getting better. Today the competition is fiercer than the seams in the rock walls at Machu Pichu and with opinions, rather than quantifiable points determining the winner, those close to the top weren’t defeated, they just didn’t win. There’s a big difference between that and losing, and the best competitors know it.
So, aside from controlling his thought process and his conviction in the aftermath, what’s next for the future Olympian who decides he’s going to go for it again next year? Well, they roughly fall into two groups: those who are qualified for next year and those who are not. The final group will have to compete in and win an Olympia-qualifying pro show sometime next year to qualify for the Olympia, likely staying in top condition for an extended period between shows. While this adds an extra level of difficulty that the qualified guys don’t have to deal with, the end result is the same: the focus is on winning the Olympia.
Everything else in their lives, and I mean everything – family, friends, relationships, social functions – has to fit around it. Not the other way around. It’s about as robotic an existence known to man. But someone has to do it.
And luckily they do.
#Olympia #whats #competitors #Muscle #fitness