GENESIS

Getting fat is an insidious process. No one will tell you that you are fat. Even if you ask. Unless your husband is mentally deficient or suicidal he will answer, quite wisely and aghast, a vehement "no". If he says "there's more of you to love", you're really fat. Even if you've had a picture taken of you while you're fat you won't really see how fat you were until you're not. Then you will wonder amazed, "was I really that fat?". I knew two things. I wasn't happy with the way I looked and I felt like shit. Whatever it was that used to whip me into a training frenzy had lost it's whip. And was looking for it. Slowly, somewhere it wasn't. My workouts were half-hearted, sporadic, and subject to cancellation for the flimsiest of excuses: it's too nice out, it's raining, I could do my Christmas shopping instead, I have to iron my socks.

First I tried running. I heard it was the best cardio and necessary to shake those extra pounds so I set a reasonable goal, a reasonable date - the 10K Vancouver Sun Run four months away and set out to achieve it, which I did. But. The pounds stayed and the process was hateful and painful. My knees felt like they had been assaulted by a midget with a jackhammer and sounded like maracas full of gravel. I lost my big toe nails. Now I wasn't happy with the way I looked and I felt like shit in pain.

One day while training with my husband at my gym I noticed an advertisement for a fitness challenge. He or she who makes the biggest (positive) change in body composition over 8 weeks wins money, free membership etcetera. Measurements, fat caliper, electronic evaluations taken before, mid-point and after. My husband, running neck and neck with me in the unhappy and feeling shitty race was down 15lbs but 15lbs he wanted back and we accepted the challenge. It was external motivation for a finite period and we could compete together and against each other. Perfect.

We trained with the intensity of crazed zealots. I sweat. I dieted. I stuck to my diet. I did cardio (no running). I made no excuses. When the dust settled I had placed 1st. I felt good. I looked better. I was getting compliments and I liked them. I wanted more. I had gone from 29% body fat to 14% body fat. 16lbs of completely redundant shit was gone. If I could effect this big a change in 8 weeks what could I accomplish in, say four months?. What could I not?. So I found a novice competition and entered it. I entered the Emerald Cup, dauntingly, the largest regional show in the US and a national qualifier if an athlete placed in the top 5. It attracts hundreds of fitness and figure competitors alone. Plus bodybuilders. It wouldn't act as a wrung on the ladder here in Canada but had a stable date and would be excellent preparation for BC contests once dates had finally been set in place.

I got serious. I got trainers. I got a personalized diet. I got grumpy. I got disciplined. I got peaks on my biceps. I got striated delts. I got abs a hamster would need a 4x4 to get over! I got rid of chocolate. I got rid of cinnamon buns. I got rid of pasta. I got rid of ice-cream. I got grumpier and grumpier. But I got rid of the golf balls on my butt. I got a lot of compliments. I got nervous. I got scared. I got panicked. I got into a bikini and I cried. It had been a long time. I quarter turned until I felt like I had spent a lost weekend on some sadistic carnival ride. I smiled until my cheeks cramped and my teeth needed dusting. I got ready then I got calm. I also got 5th in tall figure. I loved competing. I am happy with my placing but I am not satisfied. And I am not stopping.

It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog." -- Mark Twain