On my way to the gym today, or was it on my way to class, or maybe on my way home from class… anyways - in the car at some point today I had this thought, “I could compete.” I’ve often toyed with the idea of being a figure athlete, setting a date and working my ass off towards it. I’ve seen covers of fitness magazines and thought “I can totally get those abs” (or on good months, “I totally have those abs”).
I know my way around a gym, haven’t met an oly bar I didn’t love (except maybe those broken ones with the sliding collars at the PAC back in the day). I know my way on a mat, around most injuries, I can navigate a grocery store with my eyes closed and rattle off more nutritional information and ingredients than is even possibly considered normal. I can cook my way around allergies, intolerances, and vegan adventures. So, I have the knowledge.
Do I have the time? I have a job that affords me tons of flexible hours and access to multiple gyms. It also has me connected to countless resources on training, fitness, nutrition, etc. I’m completely single, so I schedule for one, cook for one and sleep for one. So holy crap, do I ever have the time.
Finally, do I have the motivation? Why not. I’m already training pretty regularly as it is, why not make it just a teensy bit harder and work towards a solid goal. What’s it going to take? A regular program, solid dedication, a cleaned up diet, copious amounts of epsom salt baths, and maybe a boob job. Well, maybe not the last one. I’m still recovering from having my one wisdom tooth removed.
What’s this mean? Well, the more I think about it, the more I’m talking myself out of it. So before I manage to do that completely, here goes.
I’m going to be on the cover of a fitness magazine in 6 months.
Yep. You read that right.
Someone has to, why shouldn’t it be me? Now I just have to figure out how to get there. Crap. (If I fail at this, I’ll be competing in a fitness competition instead.)