Competition Day Rundown

SUNDAY NOVEMBER 2^ND – WFF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP BODYBUILDING COMPETITION

Twin Towns Resort – Coolangatta, Gold Coast

After 26 weeks of focused preparation and 18 months of focused training….the day begins..

1am:        Eyes open. I’m hot because I’m wearing a onesie. I’m wearing a onesie because I’m covered with fake tan and I don’t want to stain the lovely white sheets at our apartment. I also have socks on to stop foot-tan-transfer. Dammit – now that I’m awake I can’t stop thinking about toast, eggs and peanut butter that I’m going to devour in about…. 5 hours!! Quick comfort stop and back to bed.

                 Na – not going to happen. Need to cool down. Onesie off, towel laid out, bugger the tan transfer! I’ll go through Catch of the Day and buy some more sheets if need be! Much better and I eventually fall asleep thinking about the yellow runny yolks and crispy toast, smothered in nutty butter.

3am:        Eyes open. Peeking at the clock. 3 hours to go. Dammit again!!

4am:        2hrs.

5am:        1hr. Good grief. This is the longest night of my life.

5.45am:   Bloody alarm woke me up!! Only just got to sleep!!

                 Bound out of bed and run to the kitchen. Pan on, toaster out, nutty butter opened. Never has the rich, stickiness of this combination been so appreciated. Never. No need to wash the knife and fork – it’s spotlessly licked clean. Straight back in the drawer for the next schmuck to use.

6.05am:   Back to bed to read for a while. Rob is awake and we’re both pretty excited about the day. I’m not really nervous – it’s been a long time coming and I’m ready to tackle whatever comes my way.

7.15am:   Layer of sticky Dream Tan. Rob the tan-man is on the job and he really is good at this. I simply stand there and he covers me from head to toe (and all spots in between) with this stuff. Constantly people ask why there is so much tan. It’s the lighting, it’s the muscle detail and it’s the expectation. Not going to repeat it again so hopefully no one ever asks me this question again.

7.30am:   Michelle B arrives from Darwin!! Woot woot!!

7.35am:   Candice knocks on the door and also joins the party – double woot!!

8am:        I’m finally dry enough to put clothes on and the hairdresser & make-up artist arrive. They set up a mini studio in the apartment and I’m suddenly being primped and primed for action. I absolutely LOVE the makeup. She has done a superb job of adding deep purples to my eye-shadow and it looks like a velvety, smoky mix. Not one of the photos gives it justice and I’m aware that normal photography just makes me look like an over-tanned strange woman. I can’t help this and am glad that most people are polite enough not to say so. In actual fact, the makeup, hair and tan blended together beautifully and I’m seriously impressed with their work.

8.30am:   Somewhere during the beauty session, Racheal arrives so the girls are all together. Muscle Chicks (minus George) united! I guess this is a bit ‘in-house’. I’m so overwhelmed that these girls have made their way to me from all over Australia. I feel very, very special and I can’t really articulate how grateful I am to have them with me. They are very, very special people in my life on a daily basis. I draw support, strength and loyalty from them and we are a pretty tight bunch.

10.30am  Time to get to the venue. The show started at 10am but who the hell knows when that really is at Coolangatta. A few steps in certain directions and your phone changes by an hour!! It’s quite amusing and a little frustrating. Must be hell living there and trying to organise a meeting or appointment of any sort. Anyhow, we get to the Twin Towns Resort and it hasn’t kicked off yet. I sit in the audience with Michelle, Racheal, Candice, Kieran, Rob and the kids. I can’t concentrate on anything because the nerves have started to kick. I absolutely know the best course of action would be to rest up and put my feet up – but that aint gonna happen!! I’m too highly strung for that.

11.30am  Somewhere around here, Rob and I decide to go backstage and set up my gear. We get out there and have to laugh at the typical bodybuilding setup: everything is covered in plastic – every inch of the floor and right up the walls. It’s a sight I’m quite used to yet I agree that it would like pretty stupid to anyone viewing it for the first time.

                 We find a little spot in the hallway because the actual dressing rooms are both too small and way too cold for me.

                 We check the program and see that my division is no. 12 out of 24 divisions. The show is only up to division no. 2. I’m not thinking straight and can’t work out how long I think it’ll take to get to mine. I’m picking another 2-3 hours so we head out front again and watch the men do their thing. I’m in awe of their condition. I love this sport – I really do. Ordinary people who change their bodies in quite an extreme way. I care little for the judgement of others – I’m too busy being impressed by those that do rather than don’t.

12.30pm: We head backstage again and I again try to decipher what time I’ll be on. Never have I miscalculated the time like I did this day. To cut a long story short, I was on stage at around 4.30pm so the afternoon passed in a blur of eating peanut butter and rice cakes and jelly beans, with many slow and monotonous warm up routines in order to be ready in the event that my division would get called. It was not an optimal move as I felt terribly fatigued at times and got that “I just want it to be all over” feeling, which is not real cool when you’ve been working 18 months towards this day.

                 Just as I thought we were ready to pump up for the final time, the organisers announced a break in the proceedings for another half hour. I wanted to cry. Instead I put my headphones back in and had a good old listen to my favourite songs.

4.30pm:   Finally, finally, finally. Time to line up side-stage and start focusing fiercely on the next step – routine time! 1min of posing to my choice of music. I chose INXS’ Never Tear Us Apart. In May 2014 I loved this song, really loved it. It triggered emotion, excitement and strength in me. By November 2014, I could do with not hearing this song again for the next 10 years. So, for the final time, I completed my routine and still felt that I loved the simple yet strong moves put together for me with the beautiful Karen Jeffreys. For a girl with not much rhythm, I did ok I reckon.

                 So anyway – I jumped forward a bit. I made my way side-stage and I’m standing amongst some of the muscliest, strongest, striated women I have ever seen! Their bikinis are sparkling with jewels and their faces are showing the intensity of the situation. At that particular point, I felt quite beat. They all just looked so good. Rob sensed that defeat was creeping in so he gently started reassuring me that I was in the right place, that I deserved my spot and that I needed to focus on getting out there and giving it all I had. Only someone who knows me as well as he does would understand the keys to motivating me. I love my husband more than life itself and competition day is one of those times where 17 years of companionship pays off. God I love him.

                 Stage time. Routine goes well and I’m happy with my performance. I could always improve for sure, but in comparison with my routine of 18 months prior, I feel the progress has been dramatic. Lesson reinforced to learn early and practise until you can’t practise anymore.

                 Back off stage. Time to pump up a little more using the stretchy bands. I’m so dry mouthed I can hardly swallow my own spit. Rob provides a water bottle and I have a sip. My water method is not to drink on comp day other than a sip here and there. It works for me and I don’t do any dramatic dehydration rubbish beforehand so it’s just a day’s worth of dryness. (For the record – don’t touch sodium in anyway pre-comp)

                 Now it’s time to get out there in a line-up with the other ladies for the main event – comparisons between us for symmetry, condition and muscle. This is where the marking starts!

                 I’m second out. There’s no time to look left or right which is quite funny after the comp when everyone talks about “yellow bikini” or “long brown hair”. I can’t see any of them and only realise who I was surrounded by when the photos pop up later on Facebook.

                 I digress – we start off with quarter turns for symmetry. My feet are just slightly unsteady. I think it’s due to two things: 1. We are moving from pose to pose so quickly that I hardly have time to set my position. I wish we could slow down a fraction but my wishes are ignored. 2. The stage is a bit slippery. I’m thinking the fellas have dripped their oil onto the stage due to the fact that they don’t wear footwear. I later see many people slip on various patches so I guess the oil is a little hard to mop up.

                 Compulsory turns are not my favourite part however I give it all I’ve got and I’m “thinking wide” the whole way through.

                 Next we go into the muscularity poses – these are my absolute favourite. I feel strong and confident. Side stage I clearly saw that there were women there with better lats, boulder shoulders, striated butts and sweeping quads. I’m not silly, I know a great physique when I see one – but the time has come to show myself off and simply do the best I can.

                 I can honestly say that I gave everything I had in me to those poses. I set my feet, steadied those legs and pumped out the best version of each pose that I could deliver. I smiled until my lips hurt, I twisted my obliques until my kidneys threatened to poke through the skin, I clenched my butt until it threatened to cramp in place for good!

                 There were 11 of us in the line-up. We were all told to step to the back of the stage. This is when they call certain numbers forward to compare against each other. My number was 123. They called out number after number – about 6 in total. I prayed to hear 123. I heard “123” and almost danced to the front of the stage. We went through all muscularity poses again and yet again I posed until my muscles shook with fatigue. We were directed to the rear of the stage again.

                 Next move was the ‘pose down’. 30seconds of posing all together to music while the judges deliberate. It’s more fun than it sounds.

                 Following that, we all stand mid-stage and each of us is presented with a medal to mark our participation in the World Championships. It’s a pretty special achievement to just be there really.

                 Next they say they will present trophies to the top 6 only. I’m scared. I want this badly. I know I won’t win, I can see the winner clearly. I know I won’t come in the top few – they are stand-outs and have given me much inspiration. But I want top 6. Badly.

                 They call the sixth place and I’m standing at the back trying to keep forcing out a smile while my tummy is leaping with the many twists and turns that could happen from here. Worst case scenario, I’m left at the back trying to genuinely smile while feeling a little gutted. I can’t lie about that.

                 The next number comes out – it’s “123” – THAT’S ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO WAY!!!!!!!!!!! ME!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’VE GOT A PLACING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                 I nearly stumble backwards with the realisation that they are actually calling my number. I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. I stare into the intense stage lights, trying to clap eyes on my family but it’s hopeless, the bulbs are just too bright and I can only stupidly grin in their general direction.

                 The top 6 stand together and we have some photos before it’s time to head off-stage. The minute I see Rob the tears come. I’m so happy for so many reasons. Let’s be brutally honest – I’m extremely happy that I placed. I’m also extremely happy that it’s over. I’m searingly tired and intensely hungry. I’m ready for a huge refeed and to hug my kids. I pretty much fall into Rob’s arms and we wander back to my little dressing room spot in the hallway.

                 Once there we use baby oil and a towel to strip most of the top layer of tan off. From there I start munching on the most beautiful piece of food I have ever eaten (well that’s how it feels after 26 weeks of comp dieting!!) – a vanilla almond Quest bar. Every chewy mouthful is like eating gold! I also down a Gatorade in about 5 seconds flat – which is interesting as I generally hate all flavoured drinks – especially anything like cordial! But I’m so dry and so fatigued that the Gatorade goes down a treat.

                 Shorts and a t-shirt on before heading back out front to be with my children. I have missed them terribly over the last few months. To explain, I have been with them physically but training and work have definitely taken the lion’s share of my strength and they have had to put up with some fairly ordinary energy levels from me for a long time now. I hug them like I haven’t seen them for years and promise them that their mum will be a little different from here on in. They are amazingly resilient and reassure me that they love me just like I am.

                 I scoff down a pretty good sized feed of white rice, steak and asparagus. I add a dollop of peanut butter for good measure and enjoy every satay-filled mouthful. Then it’s back to the apartment to scrub down and get rid of some of that base tan. I glug back about 2 litres of water and then have a nice dry white wine as a celebration drink.

                 Then it’s time to meet up with my pit-crew and we head to the Hogs Breath for dinner. I ordered exactly what I felt like – a barra burger with extra avocado. I shamelessly ate every morsel along with the curly fries on the side. Following that I again shamelessly ordered a sticky date pudding that I inhaled beautifully. I don’t regret a single crumb, even though my tummy did feel a little bit pressured to keep up with my eyes!

                 We headed to the apartment after that and I thankfully sank into bed and hugged my full stomach all night. Yes it ached a little but yes it was very worth it.

                 Enough for now. I have lots more to tell about the next few days and how I have/am handling food and exercise, but that’s to come next blog.

 

                 Finally this;

Post Competition - I find it really strange that so many people make comments like this; “you must be so glad it’s all over”, “bet you can’t wait for it to be all over”, “I’m sure you can’t wait for life to go back to normal”, “it’s family time now”, …. And so many more. It’s not that I can’t see where they are coming from, it’s just that I can’t help but feel a teensy sense of frustration at the insinuation that what I do is so far out of the realms of normality. Yes, I’ll admit it gets extreme towards the end but so does anything that gets to a state or world level. I think it’s more about the food thing than anything else. The adherence and strictness of the nutrition certainly makes plenty feel decidedly uncomfortable, that is blatantly obvious.

                  

                     I guess I can honestly say that my training isn’t going anywhere, and I’m happy to make the sacrifices necessary when it comes to food. I don’t love being hungry at all. I hate feeling fatigued too. But it’s short and it’s sharp and it serves a purpose without being life-threatening. I love this sport. It gives me drive, determination, self-achievement, motivation, a chance to see and feel my own potential (something I swear everyone needs to experience in some field or another) and a chance to show our children that they can do anything they want to if they put their mind and body to it. And if I feel like doing it all again straight away, I will. Happily.