I Did It

I did it.

I did the damn thing: got on a stage and competed as a bikini bodybuilder. To say this was no small feat is a monumental understatement, never mind the additional challenges presented in a global pandemic.

Those who know me are aware that I enjoy a good challenge, namely of the physical order. Athletics have always been a significant part of my life; being an athlete is single-handedly the reason I ended up in Pittsburgh. I was a gymnast, a swimmer for a brief stint, and a soccer player. I’ve run a marathon, been part of several marathon relay teams, run a half marathon, and completed a few sprint triathlons. There was a Tough Mudder a few years back that ended in a broken ankle, so technically I didn’t finish the full course, but I got through half before the horrific snap – but I digress. My point is, I’m always chasing something. Truth be told, I feel a little lost if I’m not preparing for some kind of a competition. It appears as though I’ve been hard-wired to be driven by physical goals. And because I’d run the gamut of all kinds of races by May of 2019, it came to no one’s surprise, least of all mine, that I’d go after the bodybuilding stage.  

Let me make a distinction here: my goal was always to step on stage to compete, but not necessarily as competitor. What I mean is, I’d never planned to make this my lifestyle – a highly unpopular reason to get on stage. My plan was to approach with a Rocky mindset: go the distance. Weight loss was not the goal, nor my greatest achievement – not even close. While I’m in awe of the physique I have built, the achievement I sought was the endurance. I didn’t need to beat Apollo, I just wanted to last until the final bell. There’s an entire sect of folks who say competing in a bodybuilding competition as a “bucket list” item is a horrible idea. They will cite the enormous leverage on the body required to reach this goal, and they’re not wrong – this is HARD AF. To get to, what is referred to as stage lean, requires significant sacrifice, not to mention potential severe tolls on the body – the physiological tax is considerable. At some point, you will be fighting against biological cues, as the body was not designed to function optimally below a certain body fat threshold. Towards the end, I felt hollowed out like a carved pumpkin for Halloween, and I was damn near tears on the daily. That being said, while it’s a gross generalization: there are risks to everything in life. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take on certain endeavors, I just see it as a need for proper education, guidance, and mitigation when possible. It is precisely why most hire coaches, and I was fortunate enough to have two on my road to the stage. And this is probably another faux pas, but honestly, IDGAF – both of my coaches were integral.

Summer of 2017

Let’s take it back to the summer of 2017. Lucy and I’d spent a lovely day with some friends doing the touristy Ducky Boat and ridden the Monongahela Incline. At the top of Mt. Washington, a photograph was taken of me and my girl. When I looked at that picture, I was taken aback by what I saw in myself: a woman who’d been consumed with Motherhood for four and a half years, and who’d allowed her own health to fall to the bottom of the priorities list. I was 39 and the heaviest I’d ever been. It was then and there that I decided I would become “Fit by 40,” and find my mojo again. I was a former Division I athlete, dammit. I could and would build back the body of a healthy and strong woman that I knew existed inside of me. So that’s exactly what I did. I began running with friends at work in the mornings before school. I did Weight Watchers. My combined efforts helped me drop about 20 lbs., but then I stalled. In October of 2018, as I was recovering from the broken ankle, I hired, on the suggestion of my dear friend J, Adam. Adam took me on as a lifestyle client and helped me drop another 20 lbs. Seven months later, I’d bitten the apple. In May of 2019, I went from a lifestyle client to a competition client. Adam helped me build for a few months, and then we began prep in August of 2019. I chugged and persisted until March of 2020, dropping another almost 25 lbs, when the rug got pulled out from under me and the world succumbed to a pandemic. I was roughly two weeks out from the stage. And it all just vanished. Initially, we decided to hold steady and watch to see what shows would go on, but the constant cancellations and moving target end-date proved to be too difficult, so I made the decision to begin reversing (slowly raising calories, and lowering cardio), and shelve the stage for a year.

Perhaps it was the isolation of the pandemic, maybe it was burn out – there were so many variables, but in May of 2020, I made the decision to end my coaching with Adam, and move on to Mark. There were no hard feelings; I was sensing a complacency in myself, and needed a more militant kick in the ass, and a change in protocol scenery. Mark provided what I needed at that point in my journey and the road to the stage continued with a nine and a half month building phase. In January of 2020, once again, I began to prep.

The current narrative lends itself well to the platitude: things happen for a reason. This prep was different in so many ways. I wasn’t a newbie and knew what to expect. My adherence was damn near perfect, and even though I could choose the foods that fulfilled the macros prescribed to me, unlike my last prep, I made nutrient dense selections. Fitting in that gourmet cookie, or the pint of Enlightened ice cream, never factored into my train of thought. And honestly, I felt better, even into the gritty final weeks when cardio was high and food was low. I do believe there’s truth to quality, and that not all calories are equal in terms of biological benefits. That’s not to say that folks who fit in the treats aren’t successful, because there are plenty who do, and are just fine. For me, anecdotally, the whole foods route worked really well, and I was less susceptible to cravings of those highly palatable treats.

In the end, Adam brought me to the dance, and Mark helped me cross the finish line. For that, each deserves due recognition.

For all my history as an athlete, even at the highest levels of pressure and competition, nothing – and I mean nothing, compared to the intensity of preparing for the stage. The sheer mental and physical endurance required was astronomical. This was a relentless daily choice and dedication that I’d never executed and went far beyond the simple “no thank you” to an offered cupcake. Motivation waxed and waned; it was through absolute discipline, grit, and ganas that I hit the target. Planning, prepping, weighing out every morsel that I consumed, blocking out time for lifting and cardio, making sure I got my steps in each day – it was all-consuming.

But it was worth it, and I kept my head (mostly) along the way. There’s a dark side to this sport, one that comes with side effects not limited to, but including disordered eating and body dismorphia. Dieting down can also really mess up your relationship with food. Because I came to this sport a little later in life, I believe I was granted the advantage of having had many years to figure out who I was and recognize the depth of my personal capital. Here I was, willingly working towards getting on a stage in an itty-bitty, albeit beautifully bedazzled, bikini, and asking to be judged on my body. I knew before the show that no matter what happened, my worth did not rest in the critique of those subjective judges. Whether I placed or not, I firmly believed (cause believing is the important part), that I was a woman intact, whole and beautiful, strong and successful. The outcome of the show would not determine my mark on the world; I already had a life and existence that far-outweighed whatever medal or trophy (or apparantly swords, because as it turns out, I won 3 swords) with which I could ever walk away. The external validation, while nice (not going to say it isn’t), wasn’t necessary, because I’d already validated myself. There’s a shit-ton of self-work and self-love in those previous few sentences, a place to which I did not arrive easily. It took me years to get here, but I had help along the way, and one of my very first mentors was Laura Moses.

In high school, I played club soccer, and Laura was my coach. She was uncompromising in every sense, and she worked us doggedly. We had two-a-day practices in the summer under the hot sun, we ran miles upon miles on the strand at the beach, did sprints in the sand – and you know what? We were fit. We were a good little team, but even when our skills didn’t match up against another powerhouse club, we’d win simply because we could outrun them for the entire ninety minutes. I was always at the back of the pack when it came to fitness, the last one to cross the line, the goalkeeper bringing up the rear on miles long runs. I specifically remember one afternoon run at the beach. I was determined to keep up with the pack at any cost. I wanted so desperately to win some kind of accolade from Laura. So I did it. I kept up. And puked in the sand at the end of the run because I’d taxed my system so greatly. After discharging my lunch, I went up to Laura as the others were getting sips of water and asked her if she’d noticed that I’d kept up. She said, I did. Then turned away from me to call everyone into the sand for sprints. That gutted me – not even a simple “at a girl.” And it was then and there that I realized I could not rely on others to validate or praise my efforts. Laura helped me realized, I would have to do it myself.

Working towards a goal like this can be intensely isolating as the sport, by nature, is solitary. There  were definitely days when I felt the loneliness, but mostly I felt support by an entire squadron of friends and family. I cannot say enough about my friends, especially the ones I work with. I have raved about my colleagues, ad nauseum, and I will continue to do so. They buoyed me, daily. Checked in with me, asked thoughtful questions, responded to my posts with infinite encouragement, left flowers on my desk with thoughtful notes – honestly, I could go on and on. Friends outside of work sent texts and applause, regularly. J, my back-pocket-therapist talked me down off of several ledges, listened to my fears and frustrations, and always set me straight with just the right amount of care and tough love. J opened this door for me two years ago, helped me see what was possible, and for that I’m ever grateful. My parents were cheering me on from the get-go, and really, since Day 1. For anything I’ve ever attempted, even if they secretly harbored concern, they have always been ferociously supportive.

 

And then there’s Jesse and Lucy. My ride or die crew. The ones who endured along with me, who never complained when I was too exhausted to figure out dinner beyond “briner” or a frozen pizza or takeout. Who never made me feel bad when it got to the point that I was eating my extra lean ground turkey and 
they were enjoying heaping servings of spaghetti, or giant bowls of ice cream. My husband who understood I needed to retire to bed between 8 and 8:30 in order to be up at “four ass early.” My daughter who had to go for walks with me more times than I can count because I couldn’t leave her home alone, and I needed to hit my 10k steps. While I was doing the work in isolation at the gym, they were absolutely affected by the time I spent away from them – and they were just as much a part of this whole endeavor. I know my daughter watched it all, took it all in. I can only hope she saw a mama determined, and a woman who prioritized her own goals, not allowing the responsibilities and obligations of life to overrule her ambitions.

So what’s next?

Truth is, I'm not sure. Initially I had intended to do one more show at the end of July, but in the last couple of days, it has become clear to me that I got what I needed. I met my goal, I feel incredibly satisfied, and there is zero compulsion driving any need to do this all over again. And the best part? I am completely at peace with this decision. Zero regrets. For the immediate future, my focus will be lifestyle related: I’d like to figure out a balance of being physically active, but without an extreme carrot. Maybe hike more. Throw the bikes on the hitch and rack, and ride more. I want to sleep in and sip coffee on Saturday and Sunday mornings. I do have a photo shoot scheduled for later this month, as I'd like to immortalize this physique I worked so hard to build, but other than that I’m going to take my time to properly reverse, bringing my body back to a healthy and sustainable weight, and enjoy an indefinite respite from the all-encompassing mind absorption that is prep.

I have learned so much through this process, but the two biggest takeaways are that I am stronger than I thought, both mentally and physically. This was supposed to have been accomplished a year ago, but because of the pandemic, it stretched another year. There were so many days I just did not want to do it - but I refused to throw in the towel. I couldn't have come all this way to not see it through. Two years I labored at this, and for two years I proved to no one but myself that I could do really hard shit. The second takeaway, and probably the most profound, is that I am loved. The outpouring of support, the gifts, the recognition and acknowledgement from family and friends has been beyond anything I ever expected. That will stay with me long after the lines of my physique have faded.

Not too bad for this almost 43 year-old, if I do say so myself.