My First Bodybuilding Competition -- GO FIGURE!

Although I've been meaning to, I've never gotten around to blogging about the results of the recent chapter of my life, "Time to Shine."  The holidays got in the way, life in general, and it frankly got shoved to the back of my "to do" list.

It's time to shed light on this fabulous experience -- My First Figure Competition.  Even typing those words, staring at them in unbelief, it still seems bewildering that I actually went through with this and that it ended up being one of the most rewarding things I've ever done in my life.  But I did it. 
I COMPETED IN A FIGURE COMPETITION
AT 51 YEARS OF AGE! 
GO "FIGURE!"

And so my story goes...

On August 15th of this year, twelve weeks out from "showtime," I made the decision to compete in my first figure competition – Masters Figure 45+. I had just turned 51, and it was now or never. I wasn’t getting any younger – yet my passion for fitness and strength training was blazing stronger than ever before.

My inner voice screamed: 

Do it, T!  It's what you love! 

It's what drives you.  

The time has come: 

MAKE THIS HAPPEN.

My first competition experience was a mostly positive one. The prep itself – both dieting and training – were quite challenging at times, but in retrospect, abundantly rewarding: The dieting (devised by my coach) paid off with my body responding in unprededented fashion to carefully chosen fuel, resulting in lean gains and noticeably progressive fat loss. The strategic training resulted in gains of lean muscle in my abs, back and delts, while stripping away layers of fat from my hips and thighs, a problem area for as long as I can remember (and will always be, since I gain there FIRST).

Implementing a rotation diet of rather low carbs while training six days a week, there were times when I became very depleted, did not get adequate rest (up too late and up too early), and my body protested with noticeable dips in energy, but I persisted, and my CNS eventually reset and progress continued.  Reflecting back on conversations I'd had with my coach throughout the prep, there were a few comments that she made to me that seem to stand out, forever branded in my memory:

"You won't believe how much your body is going to change..." 


"Your current weight (6 weeks into the prep and about 8 pounds lighter) will likely be your new status quo or maintenance weight from this point forward."

"You are not going to believe how lean you get a week or two out from showtime."


"Be prepared to have to buy new clothes for work, because even a belt and baggy sweaters won't suffice after a while."


"This is a prep diet.  This is what you eat.  Nothing else.  You follow it to a T with no deviations.  You eat every three hours regardless, no exceptions, protein at every meal." 

We arrived at the event site Friday afternoon in Louisville, Kentucky: NPC Kentucky Muscle. At the briefing meeting after my tanning session on Friday night, I learned that this show was one of the largest shows in the country – how daunting!  Had I known that going in, would I have decided to compete?  Not sure.  Yikes.  Just glad I DIDN'T know.

As it turns out, there were 13 total competitors in the Masters Figure 45+ Division, and I ended up placing 8th. Would I have liked to place in the top 5? Hell, yes. But realistically, it was my first competition, and my goal was to leave the stage placing anywhere but last.  Frankly, it suprised me that some of the women who placed in the top 5 were not as muscular or as defined as I am, but those women boasted an overall more petite frame and it's possible that’s what the judges were looking for “this time.” A petite frame I’ll never be.  And that’s fine.  I strive for MY PERSONAL BEST, and leave the rest to what is meant to be.  Afterall, it was more about Me vs. Me.  As it should be.

Regardless of the outcome of my first competition, the beauty of this experience was that I was able to get into the best shape of my life. My energy was out the roof, along with my self-confidence and mindset.  Despite the rigorous training, I felt energetic, focused, strong, lean, confident and driven like never before – what an amazing high!  That alone was worth the effort I had put forth in the last 12 weeks!

On the morning we left town, I packed my food that I was directed to eat, carefully weighed and placed into baggies, small portions of chicken, oats, sweet potatoes and fish. Water was cut back starting two days out from competition, and I tracked that closely. I hardly slept a wink the night before show day, excited out of my mind, a zillion thoughts running through my head. I considered getting out of bed several times that night to practice posing in the bathroom…I had practiced posing as much as I could, but it’s never enough, so they say.

My spray tanning session was eventful. We had to make an appointment for our spray tan, and the lines were long, but run like clockwork. The tanning sponsors insisted on two coats for the figure competitors (in fact, for most competitors), and I was shocked at how DARK I was walking out of that tent. All you could see were teeth! Ooh-lah-lah, I thought to myself, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror ... very exotic, ethnic-looking! COOL. This is unreal! I had to wear all black, no panties, no bra, the entire first evening, sleeping in loose black clothing so as not to smear/ruin my tan until it had properly set. We were told to bring dark sheets so as not to ruin the sheets at the hotel (and yes,they WOULD charge us for the damage). 

I met lots of wonderful people at the competition, both men and women. an amazing group of focused, dedicated, disciplined athletes, all with reciprocal respect for each other. We talked, laughed, exchanged stories, training tips, diets, suit makers.  We pumped up backstage together, borrowed each other's lipstick, hairspray, whatever other essentials.  Encouragement flowed freely, as did the excitement and anticipation of showtime.  (This was one of the things that I was worried about, hanging around back stage for hours in nothing but a very tiny bikini -- in mixed company!  How daunting it seemed at the time.)  Having put in my time and followed the directives of my coach, there was nothing to be embarrassed about, as it turns out.  I was in the BEST shape of my entire life, and it seemed perfectly natural to be in that bikini amid all those athletes, strutting our stuff, proving ourselves worhty of our hard work.  It was so uplifting to be included among this group of competitors, and we made it a point to exchange email addresses at the end of the day.

There were stressful times during my prep in which I wanted to just sit and cry – namely when my competition suit was late arriving for my first fitting, only to find that the woman/seamstress from whom I’d ordered it sent me the wrong suit – wrong fit, wrong color! Great. And it was already late in arriving, the competition only a week away, which allowed me ZERO time to pose in my suit, and presented even more stress not knowing that the replacement suit – assuming it even arrived in time for the competition – would fit properly. It was indeed stressful beyond words, and all when my dieting was being "dialed in," so they call it, making me more irritable, more depleted, yet still having to keep up with the training and cardio demands, juggle work and life and family and …
well, S T R E S S

unlike I’d ever experienced before!  Ultimately, although I had ordered a purple suit, I ended up having to settle for a “stock” color because she would have had to order the purple fabric, and we only had a week left before competition, she having admitted screwing up my order to start with.  She offered me a modest discount for my “inconvenience," but that hardly helped calm my fears and misgivings.  I settled for pink (Pink?  I never really liked pink, frankly), and it arrived mercifully in the nick of time, the evening BEFORE I left for the competition.  Last-minute mending adjustments were necessary as it turns out, and with the clock ticking my coach adjusted and fitted me with the suit Friday night following my spray tanning session.  Looking back now, it still pisses me off how unfair that was to me, the whole suit screw-up ordeal!

Indulgences:  We were told by our coach to pack a few things that we'd been craving the most to have just after the show.  I was careful to pack my beloved Ergo, a wonderful Spanish red wine that I delightfully encountered a bit more than a year ago and have never let go since (there was no way I was leaving for the competition without it) some Pretzel M&M’s, Parmesan Pita Chips, and homemade Mississippi Mud that a friend had made for our family a week or so before (I saved my servings in ziplocs in the freezer to take them with me).  I was allowed to have half a glass of Ergo just before going on stage.  It would help calm me while also helping to shuttle the glycogen to my muscles for the coveted "pump."  When other competitors saw my Ergo, they begged me to share, which I of course did.  The wine was a hit -- of course it was!  It's Ergo!

Following the competition, we all went out for pizza in Louisville’s best-loved pizza place, Wick’s Pizza. I ordered a 10” chicken pizza with lots of veggies and ate it all by myself! (Inset pic showing the morning after pizza pigout) I proceeded to eat with reckless abandon for the next two days (although I had intended to limit it to the next 24 hrs only), and I don’t even want to guess at how many calories and/or carbs I ingested in that amount of time. Shameful doesn’t come close. Afterward I felt miserably bloated and disgusted with myself. (But that’s fodder for another blog entry perhaps!) 

Competition having come and gone, I now have to decide if I want to compete again.  Following the rich and off-plan holiday indulgences, I'm anxious to get back to clean eating and training.  My goal is to maintain as closely as possible to my competition weight, no more than 5-7 lbs above.  I loved feeling that way, looking that way, at that weight.  My energy was out the roof, and I’d never been happier, more confident.  I want to relive that feeling!  "Oh, sometimes, I get a good feeling..."  as the song goes.  You did it once, do it again, T. 

So.  It’s time to work off this post-holiday bloat and get back to business, working on perfecting my problem areas, and dialing in on definition.  Build it, Baby.  

Flashback:  Late 60's, early 70's...I see a little fat girl, stuffing cookies, cakes and candy in her mouth, terribly shy, lacking self-confidence, teased about her weight by her classmates, seeking purpose, meaning, wanting released from her shell...years pass, now a teenager, dieting, fighting the fat demon, the scale, wishing she could be "normal" like her friends/classmates and eat pizza without guilt, sentenced to a life of watching everything she put in her mouth, trying to make sense of this never-ending cycle...could she ever conquer the demon?  Would she eventually become a healthy, fit young (older) woman...?

Life Comes Full Circle.

Will I compete again?  I'm not ruling it out.  Time will tell.  In the meantime, I plan to return to ME VS. ME.  My agenda?  MY PERSONAL BEST.  It's my passion, this whole fitness thing, a burning fire in my heart for what I love...and it should be no surprise ... I aim to Keep It Lit.

GO FIGURE! 

Beginning Today...

Another reminder to exhale...



Excerpts:  By Penny White

Beginning Today

I will look in the mirror and I will see a
person worthy of my respect and admiration.
This capable person looking back at me is
someone I enjoy spending time with and someone
I would like to get to know better.

Beginning today

I will cherish each moment of my life.
I value this gift bestowed upon me in this world
and I will unselfishly share this gift
with others. I will use this gift to enhance
the lives of others.

Beginning today

I will take a moment to step off the beaten path
and to revel in the mysteries I encounter.
I will face challenges with courage and
determination. I will overcome what barriers
there may be which hinder my quest for
growth and self-improvement.

Holiday Fashion Faux Pas

faux pas n. pl.
A violation of accepted social norms, customs or etiquette, varying widely from culture to culture, usually used in social and diplomatic contexts; a blunder, especially a social blunder.  A fashion faux pas occurs when the error is directly related to a person's appearance or choice of clothing.

When I was flying to Vegas in December of 2010, I saved the copy of Sky Magazine from my flight.  Why?  Well, for one thing, I was enamored with the beautiful photos and illustrations of Great Escapes, hoping to some day -- SOME DAY -- be lucky enough to make it to even one of these yummy places.  But mostly because I could so relate to the hilarious quote by Clinton Kelly, the style editor of the magazine, from his article entitled "Party Poopers," specifically, his take on holiday sweaters and the heed to refrain from wearing "red and green" to holiday events. 

I couldn't help but notice, once again THIS year, the many holiday sweaters, vests, sweatshirts, and other obnoxious adornments that people -- women -- chose to wear in their feeble attempt to look festive.  This is one of those pressing times when one feels led to make a nationwide public service announcement to women who choose to drag these atrocities from their closets each year and dare wear them in public.  (Spare us all and clean/update your closets:  BURN THEM)

We've all seen them. 

Enough already!  ... she nauseously pleaded.

And so sharing Clinton Kelly's sentiments on holiday fashion faux pas, remembering how I giggled aloud when I first read this article on my flight, I decided to include excerpts from it in my blog.  Point well taken, CK.

Your Sweater Should Not Light Up
Any garment featuring appliqued snowmen, snowflakes, elves, reindeer, Christmas trees, candy canes, holly leaves or Santa faces must be destroyed immediately.  There's a law.  In fact, if you are in possession of a sweater or vest that plays "Jingle Bells" or illuminates in any way, you will be deported.  OK.  I'm kidding about the law, but seriously, people, this is not cute!

Red and Green?  No thank you.
When kids play elves in the school play, the teacher tells them to wear a red or green sweater.  Then she makes them little caps out of construction paper.  When you show up at a holiday party wearing a red or green sweater, you look like a 9-year-old with a glandular condition who lost his cap.

Let Every Heart Prepare Him Room

My Christmas prayer...

that every heart would indeed

find room for Him in their hearts.

Christmas Eve Candlelight Service...it's the nexus of my family's celebration of Christmas every year, a re-enactment of the Nativity story, narrated with scripture and punctuated with carols, instrumentals, and solos throughout, special lighting -- including a suspended beautiful Star of Bethlehem -- special effects, and a revolving stage in the round.

The part of Baby Jesus was played this year by a two-month old baby girl --
stunningly beautiful child, with dark hair and eyes (her father is from India), and she smiled and cooed at "Mary and Joseph" all throughout.  My oldest son played the part of one of the kings, proudly wearing his gold costume as he came to worship the Baby, bearing his gifts, and bowing in praise -- a gesture not of acting, but with utmost sincerity and flowing freely from the core of his heart and soul.  Each year, though I've heard (and watched) this story countless times, I am brought to tears by its beauty and simplicity.  It's as if I'm hearing the story for the first time. 

The service ends with the lighting of candles, each person passing his flame to the next, then with candles held high in the darkness of the room, we softly sing Silent Night, then extinguish our candles and leave the church quietly and reverently.

This IS Christmas.  This is the story.

God's GIFT TO THE WORLD.

May we all find room in our hearts for His Gift of Love to us.

COMFORT and JOY

I found myself in dire need of comfort yesterday afternoon.  It's Christmastime again, and I miss my mom.  A lot.  More than last year even.  The hole in my heart -- in my world -- is wrecking me.  It isn't working, trying to stay occupied, busy.  Nothing is enough distraction to make me stop thinking about her, about how much I miss her.  How I need her.

Finally, after spending the entire afteroon yesterday jumping from task to unfinished task, a desperate attempt to deny and suppress the gnawling ache of my emotions, I decided to eat Cheesy Bread from Little Caesar's. (What? I don't really even LIKE Cheesy Bread.) I ate a few sticks, then tore the cheese off the top of the rest of it, ate the cheese, and threw all the rest of it away, washing it down with a DIET A&W Rootbeer. Diet. Of course, diet.

I later ate jelly beans.  Old ones.  I don't much like jelly beans either.  And I ate a few Chipins -- chips made from popcorn.  Now those WERE satisfying. 

And then it dawned on me:  The only thing you have accomplished in eating this shit is making yourself sick, bloated, and miserable.  It was a very tiny -- TEENY TINY -- bandaid on the gaping wound of your bleeding heart.  It wasn't enough.  Nothing is.  There is no elixir for this kind of hurt.

So why did I eat that food?  I asked myself:  WHY IN THE HELL DID YOU EAT THIS SHIT? 

And then I found myself face to face with my dilemma:  I'm hurting. 

Stop running from it.  You can't run from it.  You can't cover it up.  You can't drink it away, or eat it away.  It is what it is.  Relentless.

I must come to terms with this emotion.

Comfort food is only gonna make matters worse.

There is no TRUE COMFORT in comfort food.  It's temporary 'JOY,' but it is not comforting.

A lesson I've had to learn over and over and over again.

"There's a compelling reason for the pint of premium ice cream in the freezer, the supply of candy bars in the office desk drawer, or the collection of cereal boxes in the pantry. These are all examples of comfort food, those concoctions which provide a sense of nostalgia or self-satisfaction for the consumer. Comfort food is not designed to be especially healthy or politically correct, but it supplies a welcomed respite from the stresses of the outside world."

Let the "mountain moving" begin!

"If you have faith as a mustard seed, you will slay to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move;
and nothing will be impossible for you."  Matthew 17:20


A dear, sweet friend sent me a prayer this morning via email.  Upon reading it, tears began rolling down my cheeks, and it left me speechless with joy, thanksgiving, renewed spirit, and a peace that replaced all doubt and fear with faith and trust in all that I'm capable of through my Heavenly Father.  Nothing could have meant more to me...what a beautiful prayer.

And so...I share it here, as it should be.  I will print it and take it with me backstage, and I will hold fast to its assurances.

                      Dear Heavenly Father,

My friend T is getting ready for a new adventure in her life -

and she is nervous and maybe scared. But Lord, you know the time and commitment she has devoted to this .

Lord, help her to feel comfort in knowing her body is YOUR temple!

Help her to put behind her any negative thoughts or words

and focus on you and giving you the glory.

You have made her a wonderful being in your likeness

and no one can take that away from her.

Help her to feel calm and remind her how blessed she truly is!!!

Keep her safe in her travels and bring her back to us, her friends!
In Jesus' name I pray,
Amen

--------------------------

"God gave you this glorious day.

Don't disappoint Him.

Use it for His glory."

- Marie T. Freeman

The Time Draws Near

I can't believe how time has passed so quickly, my having begun this prep mid August.  It's now only days away from my first competition. 

Reflecting on my progress, I truly have to marvel at the changes that have taken place:  Increased strength, definition, lean body mass, endurance.  I've dropped weight and clothes size.  I no longer have anything to wear to work!  One pair of pants that slightly fit!  I have recomped my body in ways I never thought possible in a seemingly very short period of time.

When I began, did I think I was up to this challenge?  Hopefully.  Was I confident that I could get my body as lean as I needed to in order to comfortably and confidently compete in my division?  No.  Hopeful, yes.  Certain?  No. 

It has been a fabulously rewarding journey, and I have no regrets.  As the days wind down to the finish line, I feel more tired, sluggish, very depleted, no longer able to complete my morning cardio runs; I have had to replace the runs with power walking.  I've had to will myself to DIG DEEP these last two days as I struggle to find the energy to complete my cardio and training.  The past couple of days I've felt somewhat dizzy and slightly -- "buzzed," if that makes sense.  I'm told it's because I'm depleted and dehydrated, and that it's a normal way to feel at this stage.  My training is nowhere near as intense as it has been, as training now takes back seat to cardio.  Posing is priority.  One can never get too much practice posing.

All plans have been made, nails and tanning appointments scheduled, jewelry and makeup selected and packed, my list of things to take with me being added to daily.   I've begun having food dreams.  Oh, mercy!  Is that freaky or what?  I dream of loaded gooey pizza; fresh, warm, homemade sourdough bread, smothered in garlic and cheese, dipped in olive oil and spices.  Mississippi Mud Cake.  Pita Chips.  Ergo wine.  These are the things I crave.  I fear I will go crazy when I finally get to eat normally that first meal following the competition.

I don't want to totally lose control.  I want to maintain focus to preserve the progress I've made.  Realizing that keeping my body fat at this percentage during off season is not practical, nor is it desireable, I still want to maintain my tighter, leaner body within a realistic degree.

Who would have ever thought that at 51 I would be competing in my first figure competition?  That I would ever be this lean, this strong, this fit -- in my fifties.  Where do I go from here?  What are my goals from this point forward?  How can I use this experience to help others achieve their own goals?

My thoughts collide with questions and ponderings. 

All I care about right now is walking out on that stage with unwavering confidence and pride, embracing my intentional alter ego as I showcase the passion that I have been living for the past few months.  I want to say to the world: 

I AM MY COMPETITION. 
I AM AN ATHLETE. 
I HAVE GIVEN 100% EFFORT TO THIS SPORT. 

And now it's

MY TIME TO SHINE.