So here we are, my brand-new blog for Beijing. I took a poll of my friends in a search for blog titles, and one brilliant soul came up with the name “Rings and Arrows” which is a play off a line from Hamlet’s famous soliloquy from Act III, Scene I:
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?
I have faced a sea of troubles to get where I am today. I would say that it took a miracle to get me on the Team, but in reality I know exactly what it took—tremendous willpower, determination, tears, pain, faith, trust, and most importantly, hard work. In a way, outrageous fortune has smiled on me at last, and I feel as if I am on top of the world.
I suppose before I get too carried away I ought to give you a proper introduction and let you in on the secret of why it was so hard for me to make the Team this year. My name is Lindsey Carmichael, and I’ve been shooting archery since 8th grade. I was in a wheelchair back then, and during class I was talking to my best friend Lorena about how I didn’t like the way the girls on the softball team were acting. Our math teacher, the wonderfully eccentric Mr. Trotter, overheard our conversation and mistook my annoyance for jealousy over not being able to play sports. Honestly, this couldn’t have been further from the truth, but at any rate he suggested I try archery. My friend thought this was such a great idea. So, he gave us the name of an archery shop in Austin, and we convinced my parents to take us to a couple of lessons. After two weeks she dropped out and I stayed with it.
I went to my first Junior Nationals in Utah in 2000, and even though half my arrows ended up behind the target, I was totally hooked. As the years went by, I found that my favorite part of archery came during the head-to-head matches. There was something undeniably cool about being able to compete that way, sort of a do-or-die moment. I loved knowing that I could “bring the heat” so to speak, and be just as good as, if not better than, my fellow female recurve archers.
In 2003 I discovered the world of disabled sports, and made the team to go to the IPC World Championships in Madrid, Spain. What an eye-opener! I had no idea what I’d been missing out on through my whole childhood. It was incredible to be around hundreds of other disabled archers, with every kind of disability you can think of. It brought me to a whole new level of self-acceptance, and really helped me see the opportunities available to those who are willing to be flexible and, (as my Marine teammate Chuck likes to say) “adapt and overcome!”
I placed fourth in the world at that tournament, which normally doesn’t win a slot for your country to go to the Games, but one of the top three ladies also placed in the team round, and so the United States was awarded the third slot in the AR-3 Standing Female Recurve division. Long story short, I made it on the team to Athens and only had a year to prepare. I doubt that I’d ever trained so hard for anything in my life at that point. It was a long summer and by the end of it I was getting dangerously close to burning out. After only a year! Oh, if I only knew then what I know now...
But then came Athens, and I cannot truly put into words how I was changed, how much I grew up during those few weeks in Greece. It was a transformation that took place in my heart and mind. There was a moment during the Opening Ceremonies that I talk about a lot, so much that my friends are probably tired of reading about it--but I swear to you it changed my life. There's something undeniably magical about the moment when you leave the darkness of the tunnel and emerge into the stadium. You are reborn as an Olympian. You become a new person entirely for that singular, awesome moment.
I have never been patriotic. But I tell you, in Athens when I came out of that tunnel, into the lights of a thousand cameras, the cheer of thousands of voices, the announcer calling out the names of our country in English, French, and Greek... that moment changed my life forever. It is a sacred feeling, to be surrounded by fellow countrymen, fellow athletes, in a stadium brimming with ecstatic humanity. You are all united in a common purpose, the pursuit of a dream of excellence, the honor of sportsmanship, the joy of competition. It brings tears to my eyes whenever I try to describe it.
I honestly think it was that moment more than anything which has driven me these long four years to make the 2008 Team. It’s true, I had some amazing moments of my own making in Athens. I shot incredibly well during the qualifying round and was so “in the zone” that I tied a Chinese lady named Wang for first place—and a world record. In the head-to-head matches I didn’t do so well, though. I was so nervous I could barely feel my hands. I had a random bad shot against a really kind lady from Thailand, and she proceeded to shoot the best match she’d ever shot. So that was that. I think it was my inexperience more than anything that did me in, and perhaps my lack of a solid mental game.
This time around I have a much, much stronger mental game. Then again, I didn’t really have much choice in the matter. In April of 2005 I had a bad tournament in Arizona, and essentially what came of it is something that the archery world refers to as “Target Panic.” It’s generally caused by a loss of self-confidence, and means that the archer can’t make the shot. It comes up in many different ways for many people, but in my case it meant a ton of let-downs. I’d bring the string to my face, prepare to shoot the arrow, and find that something felt wrong. I couldn’t shake the doubt, so I’d carefully let down the bow without actually shooting and try again. This would happen several times in a row, until I’d finally run out of time on the clock and I’d simply have to make the shot.
Eventually the tremendous number of letdowns led to an injury in my left rhomboid, the scapular muscle that helps archers stabilize their form. Last spring was the absolute worst in terms of pain and weakness, but I am stronger now.
Since that awful tournament in Arizona, I’ve tried everything I can possibly think of to kick the abominable habit. I cured myself for an entire year using something called Thought Field Therapy. I was so excited that I wrote an article for Archery Focus. It was published in October of last year, right as I was flying to Korea for the 2007 IPC World Championships, a tournament which had all my hopes and dreams for Beijing riding on it. I was cured, right? That was all that mattered. I went to Korea and had a great time, except for the parts of the trip that I was on the line shooting arrows. Or maybe I ought to say, when I was trying to shoot arrows. See, even though I was cured, I’d neglected to formulate a strategy for a mental game. I let my insecurities and the pressure go to my head and before you knew it I was back to target panic again.
When I returned home, the shame I felt was intense. Not only had I failed to win a slot for my country to go to Beijing, I had also proven my entire article was wrong—or at least, not enough. Thought Field Therapy can be very helpful, but it must be used in conjunction with positive thinking and a strong mental routine. At that point I was nearly devastated by the negative emotions ruling my life, but I had one last hope, as did many of the other US disabled archers who were unsuccessful in Korea. We organized tournament after frozen tournament during December and January, shooting our hearts out in an attempt to raise our international ranking scores.
I did some serious injury to my back again, but managed to shoot a score high enough to win me a spot on the 2008 Team. Since then I’ve been going through rehab to help my back heal, and I’ve been doing extensive aiming drills, meditations, and visualizations to help myself overcome the insecurity that caused target panic. I’ve had a few very good tournaments this year, not in terms of score but in terms of learning to trust myself again.
Since then I have faced some ups and downs, but overall I am proud of the progress I have made and I am readier than ever to go to Bejing. I’ve had to grow up a lot since ’04, and there’s no telling how much I’ll have to grow again during Beijing. I think I am past the worst of the target panic, now. You see, last week at Nationals I had a lot of letdowns on the first day of scoring, and began to re-injure my back. I realized right then and there that I don’t have the luxury of doubt anymore. I cannot allow my back to be injured before Beijing. I simply won’t allow that to happen.
In the end, I found something that was worth more to me than my insecurity. When I started on this four-year trek to Beijing, I had no idea how much work was really involved. I have put so much of myself into meeting this goal. I’ve made sacrifices and put my life on hold for this. In short, it was the dream of doing well in Beijing that finally broke the Target Panic’s hold on me.
When your dreams are in your reach, fear becomes the most inconsequential emotion in the world. Only hope matters. Only hope will let you take hold of your life.
~
Thanks for reading, everyone! I'll have more updates for you, soon! :)
"Life only demands from you the strength you possess. Only one feat is possible: not to have run away."
--Dag Hammarskjöld, Swedish diplomat
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