Proud of that Performance Still?

I was talking to a pole competitor and one of my best friends, Linda Crane, and we confessed - well, confession makes it seem like it was a long and difficult process. What would more accurately describe it as: we very clearly, openly, with no hesitation, already-thought-about-this-a-ton said that we honestly were no longer proud of our previous performances.




This is not to say that we are not proud of getting out there and doing it. It's not to say that we are not proud of the effort we put into it. But it's just how we feel looking back. Let me explain:

Now, I have only had one performance. The process through that was not something I would give up. Well, I might not have been to sad to give up the injuries, many hours working on things I didn't even use, and the frustration and anxiety that went along with it. Even if it is "part of the beautiful process" (which I do believe it is), but it is still not fun to go through at the time. Anyway, the performance was difficult. The first time I did the first 40 or so seconds I was on the floor panting like someone had just pulled a lung out of my chest. It was exhausting, and very fast, and very difficult. Eventually I got to a point where I could get through the whole thing, improve it, and at the end I even added another difficult move because I had already gotten my routine down. I was proud when I could get through the entire performance more than a few times before my showcase.

However, there is a dilemma all polers who have performed are aware probably aware of. There's no word for it really, but essentially you just have to force yourself to stop changing the choreography. When you are deciding to do a performance, you have to set up a choreography and make it flow, perfect it, and get through it, but in all of that time - you keep learning. You discover new moves, new combos, find new songs. A ton of things arise in the process of you working on a performance, but the problem is, you can't really allow yourself to put in new things. If you change your song, it is a larger difficulty than adding in a new move, but even adding in a new move, especially if you keep doing it, can eventually put you in a position where you are no longer perfecting a choreography but just adjusting it. I believe, perhaps not for very experienced performers, but that there is a process with a performance that comes from something like:
1) Finding a song
2) Trying to put together a choreography with it
3) Changing some moves as you better learn the song and discover smoother transitions
4) Trying to perfect what you have made

If you keep adding moves, you may not be working towards making a good performance an even better one. Perfecting details come with practicing the same thing over and over again. So you have to force yourself to just stop adding new things so you can "perfect" what you have already developed. The unfortunate thing is that this may not show off just how skilled you are, especially if you have had the same choreography you have been perfecting for such a long time (which means more time that you have learned more tricks and gained more strength).
It is probably more possible for confident and advanced performers to always be able to change their moves even days before a show, but I still say that can't be without some difficulty in some form, and they probably don't think it's wise to change a lot of them either.

Back to my original point: I was proud to have completed a difficult routine, but am I proud of it even a month after? In one word: No. Some will probably say I'm being overly critical of myself, but looking back, the more you watch your performance, you can see in every handful of seconds something you wish you had done better. I promise I don't sit and watch my performance and scrutinize it. I'm not here trying to express that, but what I'm saying is that I know at least one other poler who watches old routines and cringes at small things that we would never allow ourselves to do now. I am sure that even from my one performance that I have experienced this from, many others have experienced this even when they haven't messed up or fallen in a routine either. There is just something about it that yes, we are always our own worst critic, but you cannot help but kind of be disappointed in yourself. It's sad, honestly, and even fully acknowledging the logic behind these feelings and saying "This was your first performance, of course it wasn't the best," "Just getting through it was hard enough, be proud," and telling yourself "You did a lot of cool shit and didn't fall or slip, so be happy about that," you can't help but know that "I could have done better." There is always of course a chance to do better in the future, but that small knowledge of "I could have done better" is just there anyway.

Like I said, we are our own worst critics, and we probably see ourselves worse than others do, but the truth is just what it is: it's hard to be proud of old performances, at least when you are a pretty inexperienced poler, and I wasn't really expecting to feel this, at least not so soon. I knew I would look back eventually and be like "oh, small potatoes, first performance, whatevs" but it's just a part of you and it's hard to want to distance from it. To not want to show others. Where does this mentality and series of thoughts originate from? That's a whole other blog entry worth :P

My point in this entry is not to evoke from others "You should be proud!" or "don't be so critical" or "that performance rocked". Even though all of these things still mean a lot to us and make us happy to hear (even about performances we no longer like), the point is just to openly admit that this is a part of the poling experience in growing and learning, and that it's kind of sad, but it's just the reality of the situation.  I believe sometimes it's just important to let others know that you are probably going through something similar, and I believe there is comfort in that. I accept the reality of the situation as just that, and thought it was worthy of attention.