There’s something inside me that cannot stomach failure whether it’s through being unprepared or through being simply outmatched. I can’t explain it very well, but I have such extremely high expectations of myself in any endeavor that I take seriously, that failure motivates me to find a way to succeed. Somehow.
Some people are hyper-competitive with others. I’m hyper-competitive with myself. Poker and weightlifting are the only activities that have survived my ever-decreasing free time lifestyle consolidation. Each is a solo activity wherein you measure success against your own personal goals and aspirations. A perfect fit.
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Each new instance of poker tilt to me represents failure. Tuesday night was one of my worst, if not THE worst, failures I’ve had.
My reaction? I want to get right back on the horse and succeed. Once I’m able to regroup, I hope once again to overcome the hurdle I’ve placed in front of myself.
And succeed. Until of course, the next time I fail.
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I wrote the above on Wednesday after my horrible session on Tuesday. We played $200NL at Gucci Rick’s last night and I recouped ¾ of my losses. I feel much better about my play, only making what I’d call two marginal mistakes – loose calls on the river.
It’s nice to be able to recover so soon after that debacle.
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