Bodybuilding and Balance

 


It’s been about six weeks since my competition. The day that I spent a year and a half preparing for has come and gone as fast as any other day and now seems rather distant. Feels a bit like a wedding where you prepare for endless months to have one glorious day and then it’s all over in an instant. I meant to write about the whole experience when it was a little fresher in my memory – during the days when I went for coffee with people who wanted to hear what it was like, what I learned, how my life looks now. People still want to know, but we’ve all mostly moved on. I felt it was fairly essential for me to document my experience, if even just for my own memories and reflection. It was definitely a life-changing event, and I don’t want to forget things that seem to so easily slip from my memory. 







If you are my friend, have seen any of my posts on social media, or have had a conversation with me in the past two years, you will know that I competed in a body building show in the bikini division. I had crazy ups and downs: lost weight, gained weight, lost some more, gained way too much, and finally lost the most I ever have. I’ve talked enough about the entire grueling process of my prep, so I won’t discuss the details of that now. Only that the days of spending three hours a day in the gym, and eating as low as 850 calories a day are thankfully over.  (I should point out that most people who compete do not have a prep like that, and part of it was my own fault for deciding to “YOLO” most of my summer weekends. My coach was incredible and deserves infinite amounts of credit for bringing me through all of that.) But what I - and most of the people I talk to - find most interesting about this journey is the transformation of my mind, rather than my body. I had no idea I would learn as much as I did through this wild experience.

I have been overly preoccupied with body image since I was 12. I have desired a certain body type since I first discovered the roll of fat on my midsection, and stopped eating four oatmeal blueberry pancakes on Saturday mornings. I have resented my slow metabolism for over ten years, and when I finally decided to do something real about it, I had no idea it would be as difficult as it was. I heard people talk about “losing ten pounds” like all they had to do was swap out chips for celery once a week and jog for 20 minutes on days when they felt a little more energetic.  I thought that losing the last ten pounds would be similar to the first ten pounds.  



I thought that losing ten pounds would take maybe a few months of strict dedication, and then I would be golden. I use the number ten, because from the very first day I sent a trainer my weight, to the day I stepped on stage in a bikini, my weight was a difference of ten pounds.

As I mentioned, I did end up gaining a pile of weight from June – October, some of which was muscle, but most of which was Domino’s, Menchie’s, and tequila. This meant that in just five short months of my official prep, I needed to lose 30 pounds. Oops.

The mind battles were unreal during those months, and I could probably have entered a domestic partnership with my full-length mirror by the end of it. I grew so tired of looking at myself and checking to see if I was “lean enough yet” that it almost put me over the edge. I promised myself in the beginning that I wouldn’t become self-obsessed like so many competitors do, but I think I mistook my frequent body negativity as something other than self-absorption.   

 

Having a time line on your waistline is a terrifying, yet exhilarating challenge. It was not, by any means, all self-hatred and tummy pinching, although that was a real struggle. I thankfully had a live-in gym partner, meal prepper, and most importantly, mental coach to redirect my attention time and time again. Justin would never let me give into the mental tormentors that tried to tear me down, and consistently lifted me up in every way possible.  




I can truthfully say that although we were a powerful team during our journey together, that he was a lot stronger than I was, and I definitely would have quit without his encouragement, support, and genuine care. There was a time where did he almost make me back out – a time when I sprained my ankle six weeks out, got three week influenza, and had the energy of a palliative care resident for over two months. Fortunately I pulled through, but he always had my best interest in mind. Our marriage is so much stronger than it ever has been, and I would not have wanted to do this without Justin with me the whole way through.




One of the most challenging parts about prep was how slowly my body responded to even the most drastic of regimes. I kept waiting for a time when I could say, “ok, I’m happy here. I could stay this weight when I’m done with this competition, and I feel it is attainable to maintain.” And while that did eventually happen, it wasn’t until about two weeks beforehand, right after which I immediately finally started dropping weight at a much quicker pace. I think I lost my final ten pounds in my final two weeks, and by the time I got there, I was almost too exhausted to appreciate the new body I had. For real. This was one of my really big moments of realization.  

I remember lying on the bed in my hotel room the day before the show, covered in spray tan, wearing Justin’s shirt that was too big for both of us, and looking at my stomach thinking, “I should be appreciating this. I finally have the body I’ve been dreaming of, and I’m just lying here with no one to see it.” I said something to that effect out loud, and Justin asked what exactly I meant by appreciating it. I had no idea. What was I going to do with a nice body? Feel it myself? Walk around in clothes that were a size small and feel smug about it? Look in the mirror again to finally have less to pinch? Other than walking on stage in a bikini and spending some time on the beach this summer (for all of two months in Manitoba), I could honestly not think of anything to “do” with the body I had wanted so badly.  






The other ironic thing was that as my body fat was lowering so was my internal thermostat. I was so cold the entire last few months, that the only time I saw what was under my t-shirt and two sweaters was when I was jumping into a hot shower to warm my bones. It was ridiculous, really. All this hard work with nowhere to show it off because I was too cold to take my clothes off, and no logical place to have it on display. 

 

So there it was. Apparently as soon as I reached my goal, I realized it wasn’t as great as I thought it would be. Oh stepping on stage was as great as I thought it would be, and probably even more. But not for the reasons I first had in mind. See, I thought the rush of having all eyes on me, strutting my stuff, and showing off this beautiful body I worked so damn hard for would be all the reward I needed. I am a self-proclaimed diva who loves being the center of attention, so this was essentially my dream come true. But although that part was fun, a little silly, and I suppose rewarding, the true pay off was the number of people in the audience cheering my name.  

Over twenty of my family and friends paid to come to cheer me (us) on with signs, colour coordinated outfits, and voices louder than the entire theatre combined. Why did they do that? Because they were really excited about my tiny waistline and muscular legs? No. They came to support because they were proud of my hard work and dedication, and because they love me. Can you even believe such a thing? That over twenty people who came to watch, plus countless others who sent encouraging texts, voicemails, and messages actually love me for infinitely more than what my body looks like. I can’t even write about it without tearing up.  

This sounds like the most basic concept, especially when I consider why I love all of them right back and realize that none of it has to do with appearance or performance. But it took (and is still taking) a very long time for me to grasp this concept. Through the entire journey, not a single person has ever made me feel that I was not meeting their expectations or that this was something I needed to keep up once I was finished. Every single negative thought I had was entirely and completely in my own head, and I received nothing but unconditional support, even from people who didn’t quite understand or maybe even agree with what I was doing. 

 










I could not have asked for a better community. Stepping on stage was fully worth every bead of sweat, every portioned meal, every weight lifted, every avoided dessert, and every hour on that damn elliptical because of one thing: knowing that I was loved and valued by the people, present or not, cheering me on. The dorky smile on my face the moment I stepped on stage says it all.

That entire day was such a huge rush, and I was excited from beginning to end. I’m grateful to have so many photos to remember it, and I will hold onto those memories for a lifetime. It was, however, the same 24 hours as any other day, and soon enough, it was over. We celebrated that evening and the next day with copious amounts of food and friends, and it was everything I dreamed it would be. And then Monday came, and I started living out the number one question I am now asked: what are you doing now that you’re done your competition? 

 
It’s such a loaded question that I love answering, because it gives me a chance to talk about this beautiful concept that I have such a hard time with, but am slowly figuring out. “Finding balance” is something that everyone is striving for in some area of their life, and it’s my big focus at the moment. I am an all or nothing kind of person, and health and fitness has been no exception. I spent last summer eating on a strict meal plan during the week, and then binging on weekends. I spent most of my life doing next to no physical activity, and graduated to three hours a day lifting weights and running my butt cheeks off. I guess I follow the pattern of a “yo-yo dieter” fairly well, except that I’ve followed the same “diet” the entire time. My body just hates being thin, apparently, and thinks it’s more fun to gain a pound for every chocolate chip I eat, and lose a pound for every 75 hours of cardio I do. (Sorry, still working on my attitude about this.) But here I am, post competition, trying to live somewhere between the realms of “body builder lifestyle” and what I call “YOLO bulking” (aka eating everything I want to whenever I want to).

Balance is harrrrrd! After three months straight without a single cheat meal, yes I want to treat myself when I can! On the other hand, after being in the best shape of my life, yes I want to stay as close to that as I can! There are those magical people who are able to have both of those things in their life, and I will forever struggle with envy towards those born with supersonic metabolisms, but I belong to the larger camp of people who will always have to watch what they eat in order to maintain a certain body weight.  

 
Note that I haven’t said balance at the gym is hard, because, quite frankly, I have come to enjoy working out (most of the time), and it means I get to eat more, so I am all for that! I have also significantly reduced my time spent there, which makes it an enjoyable place to spend some of my time once again.  

So how do I balance?  Well my first step was booking a ten-day all-inclusive resort in Mexico with eight of my best friends three weeks after comp, and literally eating as much as a 300-pound man. I say literally because I matched my buddy plate for plate at almost every meal. Not even ashamed.  But then I come home to normal living and need to make new decisions about how I eat, how I train, and how I think about my body; living somewhere between caring too much and not caring enough; being conscious of health and nutrition and movement, and trying not to be so self-conscious of my body.  




Simply “eating healthy and being active” sounds so fun and enjoyable, even attainable, and yet the image conjured up in my mind associated with such habits looks nothing like the girl in my mirror who does all she is told to do to “eat healthy and be active” and still has rolls in uncomfortable places.   

And yet I know I’m very healthy, I know I was created to be beautiful, and I’ll even go so far to say that some people are striving for a body like mine. (That is a sobering thought in itself.) But do you know what I realized when I finally lost the extra fat I loathed on my body for over half my life? It is just as difficult to love your body at the end of your goal as it is at the beginning. No one told me that, but I’m telling you now. Well honestly, someone probably did tell me that, and I paid very little attention because I was too busy looking for my abs that never showed up.  

So now that I’m done competing, have a little extra “fluff” on my body, and am re learning how to eat in public settings and be ok with missing one work out, now I am learning this. And I don’t know if I have ever been happier with myself. The evenings of tears when I’ve spent too much time in the mirror are behind me. The mornings of going through 12 shirts before I find one I feel good in are gone (mostly because I just threw out those first 11 shirts. No sense in owning clothes you don’t feel fabulous in when you have clothes that you do.)  






I still catch myself poking and squishing and wishing and wanting, but it’s less. I don’t know that I will ever stop caring fully, but I hope to less and less every day. I hope to reach new milestones in my heart and mind where I conquer new battles, and therefore make space for more. More goodness. More love. More peace of mind. More care for others.
In chatting with my mom about this recently, I said that being so concerned with my body takes up too much brain space, and I want to get rid of it. She agreed and added that it takes away space you could be thinking about other people. 

 
Thinking less about my body makes more room in my head for thinking about loving others.

 

This is a very simple, and yet mind-blowing concept for me, and it helps me keep my focus right. I would so much rather take up space in my head with the concerns of other people, and the more I concern myself with, well, myself, the less space I have for those amazing people who came to cheer me on in a bikini. I make my body an idol when I care too much about what it looks like, and you know what else? NOBODY CARES! It’s just me. As women, we think that other women care so much more about our appearance than they actually do. Just watch a Dove beauty campaign commercial and you’ll see it a million times over. We judge ourselves so harshly compared to how we see others. We can point out all kinds of beautiful features in our friends, but have a hard time coming up with that list for ourselves.  On top of that, people are much more concerned with whether or not you are kind than whether your butt jiggles when you run. The people who love you care more about your conversation than your thigh gap, or lack thereof. And my friends want to see my smile when they tell a joke, rather than my flat stomach at the beach. 


I’m sure I will learn and re learn these things until I am old and grey and oh so wrinkly. I will look for inspiration in every corner I can find it, and Justin will patiently listen to my “new discovery” every day I read something valuable. I will receive revelation after revelation, and change my mind a million times about my goals, my focus, my methods. I will live a healthy life without obsessing over health, because obsession is not healthy. I will lose weight, and I will (gulp) gain weight, and I will work harder on loving myself than I do at “fixing” myself. I will never have it figured out, but I will always strive to help others as they learn to love their bodies. I hope to write more about this, and chat with friends about health, fitness, and self love. We are all works in progress and can all use a little inspiration from somewhere on a regular basis. This is just my story. I hope it inspires you.