10 WEEKS OUT~ WHAT DOES IT TAKE, A CHAMPION TO MAKE?

This time around, now that I've found my groove and have settled into my routine I've taken it upon myself to educate myself better in the mysteries of my functional ways. I have goals that I want to achieve and maybe I'm taking my sense of physical experimentation to another level. Not in a hectic 'let's eat all the mushrooms and look at the pretty lights' kind of way. More in a sense of what can I do to synergystically hone all aspects of my physique.....and get some God damn Abs while I'm at it.

My diet is one thing ~ but training, that is my one true love. I don't get how people can't like it. Whether I'm doing my morning cardio, hanging out in downward dog, trying not to decaptitate myself with Gyro cables, crawling around the floor at Zuu or throwing around dumbells, I can honestly say I love every moment of it. Each aspect of my training takes me to a far away place where body~mind~spirit collide. It is my sanctuary. My commune with the devine.

Starting with morning cardio. It's 4 :30am. It's dark. Lately it's been raining. It is my most favourite part of my day. My only moment of perfect peace. I get the opportunity to watch the moon sink behind the mountains and the sun gently rise to kiss the sea. I get to feel the mood of the day while the rest of you are still sleeping. I think about my precision timing for my day~ what to eat, what to drink and when to do it. I day dream about the handsome man I'm going to marry one day. I wonder if I ever get a dog, would I really call him "Rufuss" or would that only work if he was an Irish Setter? What should I have for my reward meal this Sunday? I haven't seen my hairbrush for days so I'll probably have to braid my hair again....As you can see all the important stuff gets sorted right here.

Yoga is my saviour. My light if I ever feel I'm lingering in the dark. Yoga is my opportunity to allow myself to get emotional. That might come as a bit of a surprise to some of you. Because I know I'm animated and seem very exhuberant and love to tell a story and wave my arms about passionately. That's just being entertaining. Being emotional is a luxury I rarely afford myself. Tears freak me out. I'm not saying they never happen~ I just make a concerted effort to make sure nobody else has to see them. Yoga is about realising what is true ~ completely true about you, this earthly experience, and the universe and loving all of it. Even the painful parts. Despite all the physical benefits of yoga, it is my spiritual strength that inspires me to continue to practice. We are, are we not~ spiritual beings having a physical experience?

Gyrotonics has to be my next most favourite experience in the sublime. At first it was my numero uno secret weapon in getting Abs of Maximum Definition. Now as the weeks go by and I feel myself elongating and embracing my inner balerina~ my Spondylothesis is gradually giving up it's vice~like grip on my lumbar spine. There are days when Gyro makes me want to cry with frustration. I'm never doing it right. NEVER! It is a complex series of circular motions~ often movements are moving in synchronised opposite directions. It is sometimes much more an exercise of concious muscle control than it is a physical one. Every yoga class I teach, I always find myself saying "Your body will do anything if your mind allows it". I guess because I'm super flexy it didn't occur to me that this sounds awesome in theory, not always true in practice! This becomes particularly evident when Richard (the Gyro master!) grabs me by the ribcage and proceeds to rotate, lift and lengthen my spine with a series of tugs and vicious little jabs with his index finger. The best way I can describe Gyro is that it makes you feel like you're dancing under water....out of the water. Once it's over~ it's bliss.

Now let me tell you about The Zuu. I first heard about it from a client, then from Adam. They were both pretty vague about what it actually entailed except to say that it's "different. Unlike anything you've ever done in a gym before." Now that it's my turn to describe it~ I'm having the same problem! It's all very animalistic (hence the name). All of the moves have names, the bear walk, the iguana (favourite), the crocodile (definately not my favourite), the donkey etc~ you get my drift. All of it you use your own body weight with the exception of using chains to pump the bi's n tri's. It's 45mins- to an hour and my first session, I can honestly say my mind was excreting a whistle~blowing "Faaaaaaaaaaark!" For the entire session. When I first went into the gym, I'm not going to lie~ I had a pretty bad case of nervoustummy-itis. I'd looked it up on facebook and checked out the website. I was shitting myself. On the website, Nathan the owner/creator of Zuu looks really staunch and quite intimidating. I've never made it a secret that I live by the rule that I don't want to miss out on anything for fear of trying. That doesn't mean that I don't get really nervous and shy in new situations. Most of what I do comes from a solid 5minutes of tough talk with myself in my car outside of whatever it is I'm trying next. I wish being brave got easier. Turns out I needn't have worried. Nathan greeted me with an open smile and warm handshake~ not so scarey afterall! Once there, I knew I'd found a new favourite place to be. As much as there were moments when I wished Nathan would turn his back and wrack off just for a moment so I could collapse face down on the floor for a moment ~ that bastard stuck to me like glue, guiding me through the moves and giving much appreciated encouragement when I felt like a total spaz and wanted to give up. I was delighted with myself after I'd finished (and survived). The next day I felt like I'd been beaten with 1000 sticks and I'm not entirely sure my kidneys hadn't left the renal wall during one of the seemingly never ending handstands we did. But never underestimate the power of a good old fashioned shock to the system to really get things humming. My body feels like it's finally sorted its shit out and I feel like a serious contender now for my comp. This week I realised why Zuu training resonates so well with me. The free and instinctual movements over ride any strength issues you might have. You have to just be in the moment and trust your body to support you. Don't think~ just do. I guess it's a bit like Yoga. On amphetamines.

Last but not least: my heavy, dirty, angry friend, Lady Weight. I don't know why, but I loose my sense of humour when I do weights. I just want to get down to fucking business. I still talk Adz ears off and have a giggle, but when I'm by myself it's like I turn into this little woman with all this pent up rage. "Don't touch my stuff, no I don't want to do alternate sets with you, leave those plates on~I'm only going to add more anyway,  and if you're not going to use it, don't drape yourself across it and have a ten minute conversation with your boyfriends about how many egg whites you put in your morning omlette." Get it?  I like to think I'm channelling 'the force'. I feel like I'm a furnace generating all this energy and the only way to release it is through smashing out big lifts. This picture I've included is a chick called Dana Linn Bailey. I LOVE the sentiment. It pays to train angry....

But only if you balance it with  long walks on the beach at sunrise.....and Yoga....and Gyro....and Zuu.

13 WEEKS.....UH OH~ I THINK I'M LATE FOR MY VERY IMPORTANT DATE!

Bit of a weird week ~ well fortnight really as it's almost actually 12 weeks out. I don't really know what to do. In practice~ I feel like I'm on fire! My diet has been meticulous. I have been training like a machine. I feel fan~fuckin~tastic actually. Shame my stats aren't reflecting my efforts. Bugger bugger bugger. Kylie told me one thousand times if I wanted to wreck my own head I would look at numbers. I know that the numbers at the end of the day don't win comps, the way you look does. However fragile it may be at this moment in time~ I'm going to hold onto that thought!

The truth of it is, is that last year at this point in the game I was 59kgs and 14.9% body fat. Last friday I came in at 62.2kgs and 18.4%. Freak out much!!! On the flip side however, I had lost 1.6kg from the monday to the friday~ so it's all happening. Just not at the rate it did last year. I haven't weighed in this week yet. I just think I'll loose my shit if I haven't lost anything. I am going to see Kylie next week to get her opinion, though. I'm nervous.  I've put as much into these last four weeks as I put into the entire 16 weeks last year. I will be spewing~ SPEWING if she takes one look and says to shelve it for 6 months.

Last week was a bizaar series of HI/LOWS. I'm familiar with a lot of the faces at my gym now. It's nice to be able to say 'Hi' and give a smile. As much as I love it~ training is painful. I grunt a lot. A smile and a nod go a long way in brightening my day. So I thought it was pretty nice when one of the guys said hi to me in between sets. I'm not going to lie. He and his mate shit me a bit. Talking endlessly while draped over exactly the piece of equipment I want to use....checking themselves out in the mirror....However I'm a sucker for flattery and even though I'm not a massive fan (women who love shoes and understand the importance of being able to rock out a killer pair of knee~high boots will get me on this) I know I inflict a tonne of  'calf envy' on most dudes. So it came as no surprise that he said, "Can I just say~ you have amazing calves. As a guy I'm always trying to build them, they're my thing." Thank you, I say. I'd like to say I train them, but it's freaky genetics. He says, " I love them on girls, amazing...they're my thing." Well, that's nice of you to say, I say. It could have ended there....it should have ended there. Unfortunately, he leant in and whispered intensely, "Fucking LOVE them". Cue nervous laughter and quick side step away from me ~ him obviously horrified at his verbal diahorrea, whining...."Ahhhhh~ I'm gonna stop talking now...".

Don't worry, if I was ever in danger of getting a big head, there is another guy at the gym who likes to keep it real for me. This is the guy who walked up to me when I was about a month out of comp and probably should have been on suicide watch  (how well I was coping to my ever expanding physique) looked me up and down and said, "Not in comp mode any more I see". GUTTED. Saturday he says," Here she is! Trimming down nicely. Yeah, you were getting quite overweight there for a bit." DICKFACE!!!!! Even if it's true, who says that??!

Haha~ got to love the hi/lows. Another massive Hi~ I had a mole removed from my chin. You know?! That big bloody moley~mole that has plagued me since my birth has finally left the building. Slightly miffed that this momentous event has been basically met with indifference by almost everyone I know. (What mole? From my best friend of 28 years.) The Doctor said to me I may end up with a little scar. I thought it was worth it. Once, to make someone feel better about their own angry and ugly looking new scar, I said that I quite liked them. I meant it. Our scars tell our story. They remind us of our interesting lives. To make him laugh I told him about the huge scar I have underneath my chin. That scar is so big it's got three stories to it! The first time I caught the ground with my face I was four. It was my sister's first birthday and there was about a million kids at our house for her party. We lived in a huge estate house that my parents had converted into a restaurant and bar. The second level had accomodation, and the very top level was our little apartment. I slide from the very top balastrading, planning to take it the whole way down to the ground floor. Unfortunately I fell almost as soon as I started to slide and basically fell three stories. My Pa said it was quite impressive how I managed to stick to the wall almost the whole way down. Probably saved me from cracking my skull too. The next time was almost a year later at my own fifth birthday party. My parents had given me a Wonder Woman outfit and I decided to dazzle everyone with my superhuman powers. I stood on a first floor windowsill, banged my gold cuffed (therefore magical) wrists together and bellowed," WONDER WOMAN!!!" before taking a flying leap before my guests (terrified) eyes. Needless to say the suit was hidden in the back of the cupboard and I was made to promise I would never, never attempt to fly again. The third time warms me to my bones. Whenever I think of this I am reminded that I have always been doing stupid things to try and get the attention of handsome boys. I was eight and desperate to impress my first real crush (Monkey Magic doesn't count) Zane Love. How could you not swoon for a boy called Zane Love? Swinging upside down on the monkey bars I screeched, "Hay Zane~ look at me!" In my mind I was going to execute the perfect backflip with pike landing. (I dunno~ I think the Olympics were on that year.) In reality~ with all the gracefulness of an Ox I belly~up'ed aaaaaand......caught the ground with my face.

So what's the point to my story? I guess that at various times in our lives we all land on our faces. So what? Nobody ever died from embarressment.  Is it not better to take that leap of faith and just try? Who know's? This may just be the one time the wind catches us and actually allows us to fly.  
 

ARE YOU READY? WELL HERE WE GO!

DING DING!!! ROUND 2 BEGINS!
I've actually just taken the time to read my final blog last October. Wow. The disappointment is almost palpable~ screaming at me from the screen. So why am I doing this again? In fact I did say there in black and white that I didn't think competition was for me. My personality type. But I was wrong. I know who I am. I know what motivates me. I have just spent two glorious weeks in New Zealand where it became obvious to me that I have little regard for injuring myself and secretly believe that I am physically unbreakable. God gave me this crazy strong body~ it would be almost rude not to use it. Mentally, I learnt so much from my competition. I know where my weaknesses lie. I know I'm stronger than I ever dreamed. Emotionally....that's the kicker. I'll pretty much do anything to avoid emotional pain. I am the master of breaking my own heart and coping  is actually more like...ignoring. Until I find something better, that will have to do! Because more than anything, I want to do this again. I want to achieve different things this time. I want to do it for my own sense of last year not being just a one hit wonder. Do swimmers or runners give up just because they didn't win their first race? I think not!
I'm two weeks into my next comp prep and can I just say, I'm feelin' pretty damn fine. Yuh~ decisions have been made and lines have been drawn. Just like last time my goal is world domination.....yes, it's a work in progress~ this time let's see if we can't make it happen. Worst case scenario~ I get another $5 trophy. (This time it should be noted I am going with a federation that gives everyone a trophy~ rather cunning on my part, no?)

A little bit more on the serious side, just in case anyone who actually wants to compete bothers to read this, I'd like to talk about what it was like post~comp. Because nobody tells you how hard that part is. You spend four months focused on your goal and creating this perfect as possible body, then over night~ it's gone. I did read some article in Oxygen magazine that advised that you may feel depressed or a bit lost without something to put your focus on post~comp and I did take all that on board. I chose to move my business the week before my comp so I would be forced to throw myself into work once I'd finished. No biggie.

Ah problem~ huge biggie. I didn't realise how much loosing my rig would affect me. I actively avoided looking in mirrors. I was almost frightened by my thoughts of self loathing. I felt like Iwas loosing my mind and gaining an eating disorder. How is it that I eat fruit and regain my "unit" status overnight, and my friends remain petite and gorgeous while smashing the beers and 2am kebabs? Oh the inhumanity!! I carb cycled my way out but felt like I had instant back fat and jelly belly. It wasn't instant but it is definately there and even now that I've stopped crucifying myself at every turn, I'm hugely disappointed that it made a come back. After all the bitching that my boobs were the size of fried eggs, they too came back with avengence and I was horrified that with the developement of my pecs~ none of my clothes fit the way they used to. And my bloody boobs are doing their best to squash the life out my lungs. Where before I revelled in my lightness of being, now I feel the weight of my centre of gravity.

 Even though I kept training during my off season, I felt so nervous coming into the gym on my Day 1! I felt like all eyes were on me and whisperer's were whispering "Oh my God~ she's let herself go!"  Silly Kia~ I don't really believe that anyone paid the slightest bit of attention to me, but my blush was still there all the same.

So what am I hoping to achieve this time? Well...AB's might be a great place to start! Last year I had insane obliques and this weird looking flat plate where my 6 pack should have been. Also~ let's get a bit of lift to that junk in my trunk and lean down these cyclists thighs, shall we? If I can get these 3 things in order, I'll be so stoked. I've decided to get my beautiful original suit fixed so that I can wear it this time. Fingers crossed that will be possible. I'm kinda hoping I pull up even leaner this time.

I'm competing in INBA this year and I'm pretty excited about it. The federation is part of the Drug testing  Federation and I've seen on the site that athletes who produce positive tests get named and shamed~ and banned anywhere from 3years to life . It's shit scarey~ there are a lot of things on the official list and you have to be really careful with your supplimentation choices~ just because you can get something over the counter doesn't mean it's legal for natural competitors. I like the integrity in that. AND I get a trophy just for turning up! I'm actually off to get blood tests done tomorrow. Not that I feel like anything is wrong and last year I didn't take anything to create a problem, but hormones are crazy things and before I get in too deep this time, I'd like to make sure that my thyroid, iron and sugar levels are all A~OK.

It's amazing how this time around I feel so much more calmer about things! Sooooo organised! I get up at 4:30am every morning~ last year I felt so harrassed by my life. Who likes to feel like they are running late at 6am? I felt I was forever chasing my own tail. I realise now that this lifestyle suits me. I love to eat. I'm actually not that fussy about what it is I eat~ as long as I get to do it regularly! I plan all of my clients so it works with my 3hourly feeds. I remind myself when I'm bored of greens and protein that I'm not starving. I'm getting everything I need to function. The children in Africa are starving.

 We now have two fridges. Luke's fridge....and Kia's/ Luke's beer fridge. I am a vision of portional organisation. The tupperware food towers on the shelves make me happy. It also makes me happy not to have to look at all the food I can't eat in "Luke's" fridge! I literally started dieting the day I got from New Zealand. Do you remember how depressed I felt in the first few weeks last year? As I came off my carb high I could feel my body having to adjust to it's new energy source.  I actually felt the day when I stopped running on reserves and started utilising the food I was putting in. Almost like the flick of a switch. Facinating, no? The body is a freaking amazing thing! No depression this time, but that first week there were plenty of pursed lips and slitty eyed glances where before there would have been cheeky grins and snorts of laughter. Happily we are back to giggleville, peppered with unsympathised moments of groaning as I shuffle from the couch to my bed....it's going to be a long four months!

Fourteen weeks to go and counting. I might not be freaking out at every turn like I was last time, but I'm hoping this ride is just as wild as the last! I think I'm still lucky to have so many people cheering me on, interested in my progress. One of my most favourite clients and serious mentors said to me just before I started this again~ as I was weighing up the pro's and con's, "Everyone always thinks the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. The grass is greener, Kia, where you choose to water it."

EPILOGUE

Two weeks is a long time in the body building and blog world. This is the first chance I've had to actually just sit and process what has happened over the last fortnight. After the first week  I couldn't figure out how to write it so a) I wouldn't look like a whiney little bitch and b).....I wouldn't look like a whiney little bitch. To say the outcome of Queensland titles wasn't what I expected is the understatment of the year, but my own lack of grace was what suprised me the most.

Monday that week I was on cloud nine. Holidays! I havn't had a holiday in 18mths. We'd had glorious weather.....I was dreaming of doing my cardio romping around the Burleigh Headland, kicking back on the beach with my latest Yoga Journal....We'd HAD glorious weather. Well, if it didn't turn to shit and I instead spent hours on the wind trainer riding to nowhere watching dvd's and wafting around my house feeling hungry. The only thing that gave me morbid pleasure was watching Poh's Kitchen and reading vegan recipes.

Training was so intense. I don't really like to do anything in a hurry if I'm honest, so punching out 30rep sets was my own private little hell. On wednesday I made it to rep 27 on the last set and out of nowhere, the eyes welled up, the bottom lip trembled. The weights were dropped and my hands covered my face. It wasn't just a little 'moment'. It was a full blown urge to howl like a wounded animal. How embaressing. Not just for me~ poor Adam was stood to my side trying to give reassuring pats to my shoulder. Thursday I had to move my treatment room to my new digs at Mermaid and I can honestly say~ THAT day was the worst I ever had. Thanks to Charlie Brown, the moving of the heavy stuff was easily done. What wasn't was doing serveral laps of my old room (3m x 3m) wondering where to start first and wandering back and forth to my car carrying one item at a time, like a lost child. Even though it was all done by 3:30pm, I felt like I'd run a marathon. I crawled into bed at 4 and passed out. I'd set my alarm for 6 so I could have my last meal (120gm of chicken...probably should have just kept sleeping!) then slid straight back into bed and stayed there until 5am the next day. It must have been just what I needed because I woke up and got on with friday as if thursday never happened. I did have the most bizaar dream, though! GT told me that you know when you're really on the bare bones of it when your idea of a wet dream only involves food. I dreamt that my new clinic was actually the front room of an old lady's house. An old lady who cooked the most amazing cakes, biscuits, slices etc~ everything looked like it was from the CWA's greatest recipe collection. I walked around the house looking at all the yummy goodness wondering what I could devour first and finally decided on choc~caramel slice.....but when I picked it up, it was covered in a fine layer of mould! ALL OF IT WAS COVERED IN MOULD!! BASTARD! Even in my dreams I was being denied.

Saturday was registration day and I was nervous to be driving up there by myself~ not entirely confident of my motor skills. So believe it or not, I went to Mrs Flannery's and shopped up a storm on organic goodies and spent the whole morning in the kitchen preparing my own special blend of Granola and vegan springroll filling for my feast the next day. I find cooking so soothing~ and, no, I wasn't tempted to eat any of it. Something about all the smells and just being able to chop, weigh, grate and measure. I was happy to wait for the next day because I knew it would all be amazing! I'd also had to start dehydrating which actually wasn't as hard as I thought it was going to be. Until the next day of course! That's when shit got desperate! So Kylie met me at registration and we decided just to go for it. I registered in Opens, skipping Novice all together. Then~ it was time to tan....holy snappin' ducks. By the time we finished I was blacker than a monkey's arse and it looked like someone had been murdered in Tiff's bathroom. But I must admit, it really bought out the blue in my eyes and the whiteness of my teeth....

Sunday. D-DAY. I woke at my usual 5am and lay there for an hour, going over my posing in my head. I rolled out of bed, so excited to eat my homemade Granola and burnt the shit out of my chicken. I flicked on the kettle and remembered I wasn't allowed to drink anything. Suddenly, I'm dying of thirst and am keenly aware of the white, milky film my spit has lined my inner lips with. Lucky I woke up so early because I'm moving like I'm underwater. My hair and make up take for ever and I'm only just applying the final Drag Queen touches when I hear my Dad buzzing to be let in. As we drive, he yammers away and I stare absent mindedly out the window....scaring the shit out of anyone who looks in my window as we pass. I really do look quite the spectical.  We arrive and as instructed I find a spot in the backstage area where I can lie on the floor with my legs elevated. Suddenly Kylie is standing above me and it's game on! Time to suit up, retouch the tan, apply the glossy body gel and pump the muscles up. By the time I have to pump, I've got a serious wobble in my legs. Kylie hands me a few red snakes and I shove them in the gob....spit really is quite necessary to break your food down. It's quite difficult when you don't have any and the result was my cheeks full of jube lolly, me sucking madly and waving 3kg weights around my head trying to pump my shoulders....in 6 inch heels. We get the call up and my legs are shaking so badly now~ I know no amount of sugar is going to help. Then I'm out there under stage lights, but the lights in the auditorium are up and I can see all my friends and family and hear them shouting out to me. I give my Dad a wink~ and I'm ON. The shaking never stops but the heart stops hammering and it's all over before I know it. The smile on Kylies' face makes my day and then I get to see everyone who has travelled to see me for my 5 minutes of fame. I feel amazing. I'm so sure I've got it in the bag. Kylie says we need to get something fatty and high in salt for lunch. I order a roast vegetable and houlmi burger with chips...my mind freaking out at putting that into my body~ four months of hard dieting habits about to be smashed into the hemisphere. I manage half of the chips but eat around the bread, some habits I don't actually want to break.

We go back to the club and what feels like an eternity later get called back up on stage. Third place is announced first. Not my number. Second place is announced. MY number! I know I should be stoked. But I'm not. Not even close. I thought I was on that plane to Sydney for sure. I staggered from the stage clutching my $5 trophy (the only trophy I've ever won, mind you! Ingrate that I am) looked at Kylie and said, "What the fuck just happened?". No explination really needed. I didn't win. Now before you all go ape shit at my diva antics, please understand~ I thought I was going in a competition where the beauty of sculpted muscle was required and admired. I was wrong. The last thing Kylie said to me was that I should really think about going to Sydney anyway. I sat in silence, ignoring my ballistic phone methodically eating my way through sesame snaps and spicy broadbeans trying to process what happened. By the time we got home I had already decided I was going to Sydney anyway. If I was going to come second~ it would be to someone who had worked as hard as me. I couldn't really cope with the thought that I had put my heart and soul into something for four months to have it end like that and pretend to be happy about it.

So Sunday night I ate, drank and was merry~ happy in the company of those I love best. Monday morning I was up at 5am for my cardio, back on the greens and protein. I was also back at work and I think now it may have been better for me the week before to work just a little bit. Mind you, I'd had a serious feed and I swear the calories lasted until thursday before I was once again walking around the gym, head thrown back trying to stem the flow of tears.

Before I knew it, it was friday. Time to dehydrate and get on the plane to the big smoke to show them what this chick could do! I was incredibly nervous but still confident of my chances. I said to Adam all I wanted to be able to do was to text Kylie afterward and and ask if she knew of a good place to go for cheesecake in New York after I'd competed in Arnold. Little did I know.

Preparation was pretty much carbon copy to the previous week, except this time I had fallen asleep with my hands across my belly....and woken up with two perfect handprints across my belly! Doh! With some deft patch work, it was good as new and we headed to the venue for 9:15am ready to start 10am. We sat in the auditorium and waited. And waited. And waited. Due to a horror smash by the airport, several competitors and a judge were caught in traffic. And so began the longest day of my life! Once the venue started to fill, I started to freak out and needed to find some quiet. Adam was amazing as my backstage bitch. Seriously~ I was so lucky to have him. There were lots of people there all by themselves so I'm really grateful he was there. I lost my stage number and almost lost my mind~luckily it was easily replaced.. As we were pumping up I started to feel a lot better. THIS I knew how to do. We took our places backstage and this time we got to really work it and strike our poses several times. I loved it! The line up was amazing. Still, I felt like my chances were good for a place in the top three.

After lunch things went from the sublime, to hideous. Thanks to our late start we had outstayed our welcome at the club and spent the next few hours being shuffled from pillar to post around various rooms backstage. Adam and I were nervously watching the clock thinking about our flight home. Five o'clock came and I was no where near being called back up on stage. We reschedualed our flight to the last available...to Brisbane. But  it turns out that was smart because the mother of all storms ripped through the Goldy and we probably would have been diverted anyway. We did spend a glorious 40minutes stuffed into the coaches box with every other remaining competitor in the full force of the afternoon sun. I especially liked the part when one dopey cow decided to reapply her hairspray in the already stifling room. We finally got our call up. No quater turns required apparently, just "You, you and you. 1.2.3" Thanks for coming. I suppose when I was bitching about getting called out second, I should have really taken the time to think about how it would feel to not hear my number at all. I didn't have the time then, but I've all the time in the world now. Yeah. Feels a bit shit really.

No time for wasting, I bolted from the stage, kicked off my heels and chucked on my trackie over my costume and raced to the airport in time to check in and literally sit for 10mins before our plane arrived. Me and Adz, sat there shellshocked, the disappointment wrapped around us like a cloak. "How do you feel?", "Yeah ok, how do you feel?" "Mmmm. Ok. I'd really like to not be in this costume anymore." The second the fasten seatbelt sign clicked of I locked myself in the bathroom with a packet of wetwipes and using my skills of contortionism, wriggled out of the cozzie.

The relief of hitting my street marred only be the fact it was in total darkness. No power. Awesome. No hot shower. Thank God I have the best Dad in the world and he came and got me so I could shower before bed. I finally kissed my pillow at 11:45pm. The longest day of my life.

Sunday, the sun was shining. The sky was blue. I spent the morning doing exactly what I love~ riding my bike to the markets, eating a delicious breakfast at my favourite cafe, shouting at my friends from their front lawns to see if they wanna come play at the beach with me. Picnic lunch with yummies made by yours truely, BBQ dinner and drinks on the deck. Perfect.

It's taken me until today to realise that all of the crazy shit I've done~ I've done it because I thought it would be fun. Caring always about the journey more than my performance. Scuplting completely changed that. For the first time I really cared about winning. Maybe it's because for the first time, I felt that I could. I felt foolish for picking a sport with so many variables when I am such a clarified person. I don't think my personality is suited to the whims of the judges. Now I appreciate all of the amazing things the experience has revealed to me. Firstly, I never would have dreamed I would have so many people in my corner. I am going to hold close all of the kind words of encouragment for the rest of my days. I know now, I can do anything if I decide I want to.  ANYTHING.

Which brings me back to my most favourite question from the universe~ WHAT WOULD YOU ATTEMPT IF YOU KNEW YOU COULDN'T FAIL?
....Well? What would you?

1 WEEK OUT~ IT'S THE BEGINNING OF THE END.....OR IS IT JUST THE BEGINNING?

DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUN! Well the moment has finally arrived and I really just can't believe it. How did four months of my life pass by in such a whirlwind when I have literally done nowt but train, work, eat, sleep....then get up and do it all over again?! But I'm excited! I can't wait for it all to be over... but I'm also dreaming of the opportunities that may arise from Sunday's outcome. If I win~ I get a trip to Sydney. So, my sweet lil Mexicans south of the border there~ get ready my friends. I have every intention of winning and I want to see your shining faces! If I win Nationals...well, then shit gets hectic. It means a trip to the States to compete in the Arnie classic. Who amoungst us wouldn't jump at that chance? Maybe the starving, tired and emotionally frazzled little creature writing this blog wouldn't. But then again, maybe I would! Never say never, ever.

Last week was tough. I cried. A lot. All I could think in my mind was "Get yourself to saturday afternoon and then you can drop the bundle". Holidays...sweet sweet holidays. Everyone said to me I wouldn't know what to do with myself after 3 days. Yah well, 3 days in and my dance card is full. No rest for us wicked ones, let me tell you. There is waxing to be inflicted, nails to be attached, lashes to be extended, tan to be sprayed....oh yeah~ and 3hrs of training per day to fit in around my meal times too. I'm really very busy, darlings. Hate to think what I'm going to be like when I get married.

LET'S TALK FOOD. Last week the unthinkable happened. Remember the song and dance I made about having to go to "no carb" days? So no oats, protein shakes and going to 5meals of egg whites/ white fish and greens. Just imagine my horror at being told to....take away the greens as well. Fuck. Me. Right there, I think I realised my own dedication to my cause. I never dreamed I'd be doing this. Motivating factor? Not fitting my costume bums. I didn't realise it at the time, but they were made way too narrow through the crotch. I was devastated when Kylie said that I wasn't going to come in, in that area...really only hearing "it's never going to fit" and thinking to myself, "you havn't worked hard enough". It wrecked me. Happy days, I borrowed a gorgeous little number from Kylie today and the difference is incredible. I feel a lot more comfortable in my posing too, knowing it's going to stay put as I move around. So I may not be the prettiest of the Mermaids, but secretly, there was always a hot pink little Fairy in me, just dieing to be unleashed.

This week the diet has changed again. I braced myself for a whole week of pure protein, but only had to maintain that sunday/monday and again thursday/friday. It's amazing though how every time something gets taken away from me, I feel like I also gain. No greens meant the re~introduction of an egg yolk to my omlette. I tip in the egg whites then crack the egg whole into the middle of them. Once cooked I have the joy of eating AALLLLL around it, and saving the yolkie goodness for last. I have also started lacing my coffee with cinnamon and....wait for it~ cayenne pepper. I learnt that from my sister and I just like to imagine it's actually a mexican hot chocolate. Sometimes it works. Not really.

Training has been tough. Adam really punished me today. We swapped to doing high reps and 4 sets, circuit style training. Smashing the upper body only leaving my legs alone except for the stairmaster and static contractions of a night time. The first time I did those I think my flatmate, Sam thought I was putting myself at serious risk. I lay on the couch trying to watch the Chronicles of Narnia whilsts timing my quad contractions, not aware that to Sam I looked like I was going rigid for 30second intervals. Bless, she thought I was having seizures!

I have discovered something about myself and I'm not sure if I like it. If  I spent more time practicing yoga I  would discover the  art of just "being". Instead, in compensation for not being able to eat whatever I want, whenever I want, I appear to have become quite adept at online shopping. Seriously, I had to block myself from the Victoria's Secret page and now I'm stalking the mailman waiting for my package to arrive. But like all good junkies, I have a new fix. Reading recipes. I'm not kidding. I am now The Happy Cow's biggest fan and have spent hours trawling the site reading mouthwatering vegan and raw food recipes. I'm addicted to SBS Food Safari and ABC's foreign food shows. I think Jamie Oliver is my new crush, but sorry, no~ I draw the line at watching Hughie....his style of food offends my very senses.Yes. There is something very wrong with me.

 
So minor little touches of crazy aside (and the constant urge to cry at inappropriate times) I feel great. I am determined to enjoy this week. Look at how far I've come! I'm proud of myself and maybe for the first time in  my life, I feel no shame in saying that. It isn't about being up myself. I know the sacrifices I have made. I know how hard I had to work to get here. I know every other chick who is going to be up on that stage with me has done the same. And there you have it. The doors are swinging on this Last Chance Saloon. I want to walk through them content in the knowledge that I set myself a task, and regardless of the outcome on Sunday, I gave it 110%. The rest, my lovelies, is in the hands of the judges.

2 WEEKS OUT~ MY LIFE, LESS ORDINARY

Where do I start. I've kind of put off writing this today because I know it's going to be really hard. Like the Sunday that I lost my mind and ate everything that wasn't nailed down and didn't want to write about that either. Last week took me places I never thought I'd go....the darkest recesses of my mind....the Spin class studio....a dreamland that looked remarkably like Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory but only carrot coleslaw was available. I don't even  like carrots that much.
I spent an inordinate amount of time sat on my shower floor, feeling the water beat down on my back. Not wanting to turn off the heat that was soothing me to my bones. I feel like as much as the week before I was clinging everyone to me, last week I just wanted to be by myself and find comfort in my routine. I'm sick of talking about my body. Sick of talking about what I'm eating (or rather not eating). Sick of seeing my veins but not my abs. Sick of constantly cooking and eating and not feeling fullfilled. Sick of taking pills and powders. Sick of it all really.
Then on wednesday I had a truely life defining moment. I had been hungry ALL day. By now I'm actually over eating~ it's nothing pleasurable, just something I have to do every three hours. But wednesday I'd gotten up at 4:30am to get to the gym in time for a spin class because my legs were so sore from mondays weight session that I knew I wouldn't be tough enough on myself to do a proper sprint session. I got to 3pm, my usual crash and burn time and sat on my couch staring into space knowing I still had hours of massage to go. I got into my car and because I know exactly what each of my parents have in their pantries at any given time, drove to my dads house where I knew he had a stash of dried fruit for his morning muslie. I ate 6 dried apricots and 4 dates. Yes, that many~ I counted them as they went in. Did I walk straight into the bathroom to sick them back up? Sure I did. Then I caught myself in the mirror. I thought, "If I do this, if I actually make myself vomit, it will change everything that I thought I was doing this competition for." I did not sign up for this level of mindfuck. Granted one of my own making, so then also my choice to leave the apricots and dates where they were (and I made it through my afternoon feeling normal for the first time in days) and elect instead to do an extra hour of cardio that night before bed.
Every friday I massage a gorgeous elderly man who loves to clip articles from the paper for me that he thinks I might find of special interest. A couple of weeks ago he had a piece on women who get into body building/ sculpting later in life. There was a 29 year old, 36 and 50 year old. All amazing looking women who had worked extremely hard to achieve their goals. But the 36 year old said something that horrified me. She said her husband eats what she eats, except with carbs (ie: healthily). Her kids get an entirely different menu altogther....but  sometimes, as a special treat she allows herself to eat the crust off their toast.....If I EVER say anything so retarded as that ~ please let one of you love me enough to put a bullet in my brain.
 I think my friend Bridget said it best this morning when she said that we often shy away from our own success. Like we are comfortable with putting in all the hard work but then get freaked out by the reward and just when we're on the brink of greatness....we drop the egg and can't put Humpty back together again. Also this morning from one of my facebook friends :
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world.....As we let our light shine we unconciously give others permission to do the same, we are liberated from our own fear." Am I afraid? I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it like that. But why else would I be so close to walking away from something that has taken 16 weeks of my life to prepare for? So now I pray for courage. Not the absence of fear or despair~ but the strength to conquer them.
This is the week of "lasts" for me. I can feel very excited about that! My last legs session today. Happy days!!! Adam was all like,"Are you ready for this?" and I was all bluff and bravado, "Hell yeah, show me whatchoo got!" Jesus wept~ I forsee another morning spent with the Spin class freaks on wednesday because my legs are already siezing and refusing to cooperate with what the rest of my body is doing. Seriously, am I the only one who thinks people who LOVE RPM are a different breed? Crazy people sitting in the dark under blue lights, listening to banging tunes, riding their bikes to nowhere....Unfortunately I also have to spend daily quality time with the stairmaster for the next two weeks. C'est la vie if you want an arse you can crack nuts on.
Things that have given me the utmost pleasure this week...my make up trial. I could have felt those brushes tickle my face for hours. I've booked my nails, my tan and in liu of any birthday celebration on wednesday, I'm going for a facial, back massage and haircut tomorrow. My skin is tingling just at the thought of these precious little luxuries. I just hope I don't sleep through the whole bloody lot!
The sunday night once it's all done and dusted I'm having everyone back to my place for a feast. The theme~ THE LAST SUPPER! If you could bring just one meal that is your absolute favourite, what would it be? Anyone who brings white fish and salad greens gets a free punch in the face. For myself, I've decided on prawns, oysters kilpatrick, anything my sister makes and as my desert request......ah mah God~ it could possibly be the promise of these that gets me through the next two weeks ~medjool dates stuffed with fresh pineapple and dipped in dark chocolate...chilled. Hell to the yeah, I've put some thought into this!

This is also my last week of work as I am giving myself the week before comp off to focus, and prepare for what comes next. Can you believe I've not had longer than 3days off in a row since April last year. I'm tired!  Lots of changes to my business are in the pipeline, because amazingly~ I don't expect to know what to do with myself once I'm all done. New challenges on the horizon, all of them positive though.
A lot of my friends have been asking for photos. I'm sorry but I'm going to make you all wait until the actual comp day. Kinda like a biggest looser 'reveal'. I appreciate how hard everyone who competes in this industry works and they absolutely have every right to want to show off the fruits of their labours, but I am not the kind of person who wants a profile pic of their abs. I way prefer the one from that time I got hardout gastro from kissing that guy and blew out the vein that made my entire eyeball blood red for a week. Again, so hard to see why I'm still single....
So my lovelies, my wild ride is almost at the end. It's a bitter sweet feeling. This week I'd like my thank you shout out to go to Tiff & Phoebs. All of the crazy shit I've done since we've known eachother, you guys have been my constant quiet support. Whenever I feel myself faltering, I feel your steadying hands at my back, ready to catch me if I fall. Always there until the last in your subltle little ways~ thank you my darlings.  I couldn't have done this without you.

3 WEEKS OUT~ SHIT THIS COZZIE IS PRETTY SMALL, HEY!

Is it too late to change my mind? Yeah. It is. Last week was.....nothing short of hideous. I expected my energy levels to drop, but I never thought I'd feel so mind numbingly tired. Three o'clock seems to be the witching hour. Almost as if a switch gets flipped and functioning time is over. My limbs feel like they're made of lead, like I'm moving under water. I do get my second wind, but it's amazing how things you would never ordinarily do, become lifesaving tricks of the trade. Now I make sure I take my high potency vitamin B tablet after lunch. I do rely heavily on caffeine tablets and coffee. It no longer matters what time I have the last of these, by 8pm I'm totally rooted and nothing is going to keep me out of bed and snoring. I can't believe I've gone from having a cup of coffee every couple of days as a special treat to this!
I'm wrapped that my training has changed a little though. I was beginning to feel like I was living at the gym. No more post~weights cardio sessions to have to allow for! It wasn't unusual for me to be at the gym for three hours. My shower at home has never looked so good! I think I've only used it a handful of times in the last few months. So now I do 1hr of cardio on waking and before eating. My weights session generally takes me 45mins~ 1hr, and finally half and hour cardio before bed. Sooooo much better! Also last friday saw the last NRL team worked on for the season so I know I won't have at least 2 late night trips home from Brissie anymore either. Good timing! I think now is the time to really dig deep and decide how tough I think I am. I've had a sore inside my left nostril for the last two weeks that won't heal and my poor left eye is almost completely devoid of lashes (a life long stress impulse to pull out my lashes in full flight~ thank God I'll be wearing falsies on the day!) I'm trying to keep calm and believe everyone who says my legs and bum WILL come in. But just quietly I'M FREAKING THE FUCK RIGHT OUT! My bikini bums are TINY!!!! We use this stuff on the day called "bikini bite" which literally sticks your costume to you like glue, but I swear to God, I will loose my shit if I end up with an atomic wedgie while on stage.
It hasn't been all torture and sooks though. Saturday I got what's called a "refeeder" day. My muscles were starting to look a little flat from being carb depleted so as a super pleasent suprise, Kylie asked me to carb load to see if I cut in on the Sunday. All clean sources (oats, sweet potato and quinoa)....but sweet sweet carbs. Friday night I collapsed into bed at 8, so excited that when I woke up I would get to a relatively normal breakfast fro the first time in 7days. Bizaarly I woke at 10pm thinking it was time to get up for my walk....wondering why the hell it was so dark.I staggered around for a while looking for my cardio trainers before realising I was about 7hrs ahead of schedual. I fell back into bed with every muscle aching.  And starving. For the first time I was SO hungry I was uncomfortable and couldn't go back to sleep. To have to get up and go for an hour walk before breakfast was torture~ but I think a suffering completely of my own devise, because it has never bothered me before. I tried to make them last. But they just tasted SO good. So GOOD. To be honest I pity anyone who has to share a meal time with me at the moment. It's nothing short of a disgusting display of raw eating power....Training my back, I felt like She~Ra Princess of Power. I'm pretty sure I freaked a few people out at the gym with my general state of awesomeness....obviously got my sense of humour back as well after being such a sooky la la all week. Did I pull up leaner? I dunno. I don't think I can look at myself objectively anymore. I'm honestly putting as much energy into quieting the negative mind chatter as I possibly can. I do have faith in Kylie's opinion though, and she thought it worked so I'm doing the same again this week (Yusssss! Roll on saturday!). I'd like to put a special shout out to all the beautiful peeps who gave me encouragement on sunday when I was having yet another "moment". Those of you from the Coast know it was hot as a Nuns' and pure summer hit us over night. All I wanted was something cold and refreshing...you know, like a giant gelato or something. NOT water. Over. It. But so many of my friends picked me up when I was down~ I hope I get to return the favour one day. Also a very special mention to my most awesome trainer, Adam. He's ridden the Kia rollercoaster from day one~ each tuesday I'm sure he's a little nervous about just what he's going to get. Last weeks session started with a few quiet tears and ended with a kick in the nuts. No really. It was a total accident, but I still feel very bad...even if we did giggle for ages about it. Sorry dude!
So this week I shall endevour to do my best to harden the fuck up. Nobody is holding a gun to my head over this. I know I'm going to be tired. But I promise not to whinge! "Self pity is the acid which burns holes in our own happiness." To infinity....AND BEYOND!