I can still see the impeccable handwriting in the chart pinned to the fridge as if it were yesterday. It read:

MONDAY

5:30 – 7:30am            Swim Practice

8:15am                         Pick-up, breakfast in car en route to school

9:00 – 3:00pm           School

3:30-4:45pm               Ballet

5:00-7:00pm              Swim Practice

7:30-8:45pm              Dinner/Homework

8:45pm                        Free Time

I was 10 and Dad had helped me create a schedule chronicling my life and the activities I was juggling – piano, dance, swim team, voice lessons, practice, along with the normal social engagements of any kid. No one really knows where my drive came from but my parents say I always excelled with structure.

But let me be clear – it was always my choice to pursue an activity. They gave me every opportunity to try different things and the deal was “show up to play, try your best and commit whole-heartedly for at least a year.”

At an early age I saw time as the enemy I was trying to cheat. It was a daily game of “beat the clock” with the challenge of squeezing the most out of every day. I knew one mode – Go! – always with an end game in my mind. Sure there were trade offs. I often arrived late or had to skip parties because of swim practice; missed carefree play time or things in school because of recitals and rehearsals, but to me it was a small price to pay because I loved trying new things and I had a purpose.

While the early skills of multi-tasking and time management have served me well on many levels, my greatest strength is also my biggest weakness. The concept of “downtime” was not something I grew up with and even now later in life extended downtime is foreign territory for me.

There is a perpetual tension when you’re striving for a goal and it’s inevitable if you want to excel at anything.  It requires ruthless focus, places great demands on you and over a long period of time it’s easy to ignore the warning signs to slow down and turn on the cruise control button.

I’ll admit there are times where sheer determination, adrenalin and caffeine are what keep me going. And it’s those moments where my biggest fear is having to slow down or stop. I equate sleep for a weekend or a week’s break from a routine as “rearing to go again.” But it’s also a time that I am blind to what those closest see.

THE REALITY CHECK

I am told I can be incredibly stubborn (although I prefer the word “determined”) and there aren’t many who can put me in my place.  But even I can’t ignore a dish of harsh reality served by not one, but several people in my life.

In a nutshell the message was to dial it back, relax and recharge but that wasn’t the message I initially heard. I felt sidelined, asked to give up on what I deemed important or that maybe they ‘just don’t get me.’ There were lots to think about as I left for Florida with my parents, brother & sister-in-law for one last family vacation together.

On the second day it hit. I left at 6:30am to head to Gold’s Gym (my all-time favorite place to train) with my program in hand. As I began my mind was drifting. I felt tired, distracted. After a self-imposed time-out on a foam roller and a quick pep talk I got through it but it wasn’t a workout up to my standard. As I swam in the pool that afternoon I realized I was wound so tight I couldn’t focus on anything I tried to do for more than 10 minutes. Although I was ready to pass it off as boredom, deep down I replayed their words. They knew me better than I knew myself. I had to slow down or I was at risk for an inevitable crash.

So here’s the great paradox of time. It has one of the most powerful influences on our actions, yet we’re often unaware of its impact on our lives, and our attitude towards time can have great benefits, but in excess comes with a price tag.

How we view time shapes who we are. My perspective is unquestionably “future-oriented.” My decisions are based on anticipating outcomes and driven by reaching goals. I am a strong problem-solver and can avoid temptations, distractions if it gets me closer to the goal line. But the downside is I don’t often value enjoying the present if I don’t see its connection to something longer-term.

When I was a kid Underoos, the underwear tops and bottoms mimicking superhero costumes, were popular. I idolized Wonder Woman, the warrior princess with her impenetrable bracelets, superhuman speed, strength, stamina and brains.  I felt like her every time I wore my Wonder Woman Underoos – unstoppable. But I forgot that even though she was durable she wasn’t invulnerable. She could survive until she ran out of breath; she was strong but her skin could still be cut by weapons. Even she had to recharge her powers to reform her body for more.

Who was I to think I was beyond my superhero? For the next three weeks I swapped my Wonder Woman tiara for sequined mouse ears and tested out carefree living. I continued to train but this time when I wanted and what I wanted to do vs. a set program recorded on my IPad.

A week into the trip my parents and I spent a day at the beach. It suddenly dawned on me that it would probably be our last beach excursion together. Childhood memories of building sand castles and riding the ocean waves with my Dad came flooding back.  Years later our beach day was now different but it was still a gift of reliving a great memory. What if, I thought, I could spend a summer looking at time differently…as a gift, instead of the enemy to cheat?

My brother Mark, his wife Jaime & I reliving our childhood at Disney

The Time Project (Summer 2012)

And in that moment under an umbrella on Cocoa Beach, the time project summer 2012 was born. Every week I am carving out time, a moment where I will do something I don’t “have to do,” isn’t necessarily linked to a goal, something I consider a lighter, more relaxed moment. It can be fitness-related or anything I desire.

It’s now my third week and I can happily say I’m honouring my commitment.  In week one I went out on a casual date and did a photo shoot as a fitness model for my first brand endorsement (details coming this Fall). Last week began with a 6am jog on Signal Hill with a friend (a trek I usually make on my own); I had a long overdue evening out with friends and tried a TRX suspension training class just for fun.

It is never easy to have others hold a mirror to your face, particularly when you don’t see the same reflection.  But everyone can benefit from people in their life who force you to take a good hard look from a different perspective. Taking time out doesn’t mean sidelining your goals, it’s necessary for mental and physical recovery so you don’t plateau and can move forward better and stronger.

To me success is not the achievement of one great thing, but the enjoyment of the journey along the way. We are all given the same amount of time everyday – you have to decide what makes you fulfilled and content.

I still remember one of my first visits to Disney World. My cousin Heather and I were seven and ready to soar on Dumbo the Flying Elephant. We excitedly took control of the joystick until Dumbo could go no higher and as the ride ended, we refused to let go of the red button that kept us suspended in the air. It took careful negotiating by the ride attendants and our parents to coax us down. I guess we didn’t want the magic feeling to end. But unlike Heather who was fearless, I couldn’t be talked into Space Mountain, or any other roller-coaster ride. The sudden emotions, ups and downs, never appealed to me. And still don’t even though as an adult I know at the end of the ride it all balances out.

Over the last 10 days people have commented ‘You must love the feeling after a show when you can eat what you want, sleep in and go back to normal,’ or have asked ‘What does it feel like?’ I have politely responded with a standard “Yes, the show was amazing and now I’m taking a little break to give my body a chance to recover.” But the truth is I struggle with weeks two & three following any competition.

I call it the invisible enemy. No one ever talks about it and most fitness competitors will deny its existence to anyone outside the sport. Insiders refer to it as the post-show blues or rebound and it can range from sugar cravings to weight gain (in some cases as extreme as 20-30 pound gains within weeks) and trying to return to new training schedules, diets and life.

On December 27th I happily began an 18-week journey of discipline, drive and training regime that tested my physical limits. I have eaten for purpose and grown accustomed to watching my body rapidly change and lean out for the stage. It is a process I absolutely love and give so much of myself that at times it is easy to become immersed in it. And then comes the peak, the elation of the competition itself. I always feel as if I’m floating on air and can’t wipe the smile off my face for days. But, like a rollercoaster, what goes up must at some point come back down.

Every post-show experience is different. The first year I never saw it coming and my body really didn’t react kindly to any food for weeks. In 2010 I hopped on a plane to Florida for two weeks and thoroughly enjoyed life (maybe a little too much) and found running on a beach was a pleasurable change from a treadmill. 2011 was probably the worst rebound so far given my injury meant a forced four-week break and the fear of weight gain.

Following Nationals I was traveling and enjoyed several days of good food, wine and treats until I woke up towards the end of the week and said goodbye to my abs. Watching your body transition from shredded to “soft” isn’t easy to accept even though logically I know it isn’t possible or healthy to look like you just stepped off stage 12 months of the year. I felt the fear creep in and said hello to the invisible enemy.

That day I had a couple of hours to shop and in preparation for an upcoming trip down south I had decided to buy a bikini. As I was trying it on I stood dumbfounded in the mirror, shaken by the feeling that my stomach was now twice the size it had been less than a week before. I still bought the bikini and declared it was time to wind down my indulgences and return to my clean eating ways.

As it turned out, the weight gain was temporary (water retention) and it only took a week to balance out. But returning home still left me with the anxiety of a necessary training break, thoughts of a new program and a new routine for the next several months.

Do you remember the movie Awakenings? It told the true story of patients who were awakened with an experimental drug after decades of catatonia and have to deal with a new life in a new time. I can’t think of any better analogy to describe it.

For the last week I have been thrown out of sorts. Every morning I wake up disoriented wondering why the clock says 6:00am (instead of 3:45am) followed by the reality that I don’t have to get that 1st cardio session in or eating the 1st meal of the day. In a daze I head to the kitchen and open the fridge peering in for literally a good 10 minutes trying to determine what food I can eat, what I like or have missed during my competition diet, or am going to pack for the day. When I come home in the evenings I am stressed at the thought of forced relaxation and can’t decide what I want to do with this sudden and forced “free time.” It’s a battle between me and me only.

Like a rollercoaster, there’s usually a turning point and a moment that jolts you back to reality. Last Saturday while enjoying a night out, I fortuitously ran into an old friend I hadn’t seen since high school. After a moment of apprehension (since my transformation a lot of people from the past don’t immediately recognize me) his face lit up. A warm embrace, smile and great conversation put me at ease for this was a guy who fondly remembered the old me and was genuinely happy for the newer version. It made me feel good, grounded and a reminder that all I have to do is be myself and the right people will appreciate the real me, not what I look like.

On Sunday, I spent a relaxing day cooking and testing fun new recipes I’ll be posting soon. I’ve had my break and am energized to return to the gym, transition out of competition mode and settle into my off-season.

It was a difficult decision to write this post. No one ever likes to admit their flaws and insecurities, let alone face criticism that your normal is out of the realm of comprehension to many. So why did I share this? When I started this blog I made a commitment to honestly share my experiences and here’s what I’ve learned…

It is easy to confuse strong with invincible but even the strongest person can have moments of weakness. I am not perfect and while most days I have it together, there are times I don’t. There are days I struggle but continue to swim upstream with might promising myself I will once again be too strong for fear and too content to allow anything to disturb my peace of mind. But to mine a diamond you have to spend time in the rough.

Catching her eye, I turned to one of my teammates and asked “Any guesses on her first reaction? I’m thinking it will be something about the tan (we had finished two coats of our tan and were an extremely dark stage colour).” Strolling over with my video camera in hand, I was right. “Oh gentle God, how long will it take for that colour to come off? When did you get those arm muscles?” They’ll disappear when you put water back in your body, right?” Laughing I reassured her the chiseled look of the day would soften (slightly) when my body rehydrated.

My Mom has always supported our endeavors, from music festivals to hockey games, public speaking contests to awards ceremonies. And as my brother and I grew up, she had hopes and dreams for us. I am quite certain she never envisioned this one for me. But there she sat and as it came time to say goodbye, she handed me a card that read “Congratulations on your accomplishment & good luck. No matter how you place you have achieved your goal of making the national stage. Good on you.”

For the last two years I had lived for this moment and it did not disappoint. In the weeks leading up to the competition I had imagined one great moment of finally stepping on the national stage, but it was actually a series of small ones over the weekend that I will eventually reflect upon and cherish.

I have a competitive spirit (most of all with myself) and normally am driven to win but this time it was different. Backstage, I was more concerned with capturing memories (I even had them photograph me getting my bikini bite applied) and meeting the other competitors than lining up for the first step on stage. Shaking slightly as I nailed my first solo poses I looked up to see Mom waving madly from the audience. It was reminiscent of my first dance recital when I was three years old with the exception that a Winnie the Pooh costume had been replaced with an itty-bitty sparkly bikini and heels.

Once the pre-judging had concluded Mom greeted me with a “well, check that goal off your list” smile and I think was quite floored when I declared my enthusiasm to come back next year with a vengeance.

After a couple of hours rest it was time to return for the night show and the results. While many had hoped I would have a perfect ending and walk away with a medal that was not the case. I placed 8th in Figure Masters and 12th in the Figure Open for Medium-Tall. Considering this was the best in the country I am still quite OK with those results and proud of the fact I brought my best physique to date.

It may not have been a fairy tale ending of traditional sorts but that wouldn’t suit my personality anyway. My brother and I are alike in that respect – as they say in hockey, we aren’t the cherry pickers that glide in front of the net just in time to score the goal. We have the tenacity to dig in corners and take the knocks. No matter how many times we fall down, we jump back up until we can fight no more.

It was only fitting that the first person to send me a congratulatory text was my brother. Wise beyond his years he said: “Good job. Getting there is the first step. Like I always tell my players, you have to learn how to lose before you actually win.”

But this really was my own version of a storybook (make that chapter!) ending.

This is a tough sport for family and friends to embrace as it requires an extensive commitment and can be disruptive to your life, but I am one of the lucky ones. I have witnessed competition prep claim casualties but I have found a way to balance it with my life. I have an amazing support network between my coaching team, family, friends, colleagues at work and those of you who follow my blog. And more importantly, my competitive fire hasn’t diminished. I believe that every test in life can make us bitter or better. I choose better.

There is no greater satisfaction than accomplishing a personal goal and to be able to live life your own way, even when it’s not a commonly traveled path, that is the true meaning of success.

This post is written in honour of the incredible team I have the privilege of working with every day. You have stood with me from the beginning and none of this would be possible without your coaching, support, respect and encouragement.

It was Labour Day weekend in the late 1990s when our family flew to Ontario to watch my brother’s first OHL training camp with the Belleville Bulls. On the second day of camp, the team’s owner Doc Vaughn, welcomed us into his home overlooking the Bay of Quinte. As the sun was setting Mark (16 years old at the time) and I wandered down to the dock to sit back and chat as we were embarking on new adventures in our lives. He was leaving home to play in Ontario’s Major Junior Hockey League and would be billeted with another family, while I was moving to Toronto to work in a national public relations agency. We were both saying goodbye that weekend to our parents and the security net of home. It was a blend of exhilaration, raw emotion and trepidation all rolled into one. The weekend felt like a rite of passage.

Competing tomorrow will feel the exact same way. Beyond the glamour of the sparkly suit, dazzling lights and showcase of physique, will be a stage built of overcoming bumps in the road, sacrifice, self discovery and one I feel I have earned. I have wanted this destination as badly as I have wanted to breathe for the last two years.

Since I arrived in Winnipeg, the last 48 hours have been a roller coaster of unexpected emotion (you know the kind of feelings that sneak up on you and take your breath away) ranging from pure adrenalin and “pinch me I’m so freaking excited” to moments of intimidating fear and that nauseous feeling of “oh god, what am I about to do.” At times I have walked around this City in a daze still in disbelief that the moment is finally here. Yesterday, while sipping an Americano in the sun, I was suddenly overcome with the thought that 3.5 years ago I weighed 220 pounds and now look at my life. I couldn’t help but sit and let the tears stream down my face.

And while it will be time to stand centre stage alone, it certainly hasn’t been a solitary journey in the two years leading up to tomorrow’s strut. If you have seen the movie Any Given Sunday, you’ll remember the scene where Coach Tony D’Amato (played by Al Pacino) fires up his football team with an incredible speech. “Life is like a game of inches. You have to fight inch by inch. You want the guy next to you who’s willing to fight and die for that inch. Cause that’s what living is for – the six inches in front of your face. The guys who go that inch with you, that’s a team.”

I have a team like that – guys who are tough when they need to be, but can keep it fun. Guys who have been with me through the good and the bad; who never let me give up, who can motivate me to give my best day-after-day. Guys who put me in my place when my quest for perfection can be draining on them and me.  I am sometimes an acquired taste, but they accept me for who I am – focused, intense and demanding of myself (sometimes to unrealistic and unobtainable levels). They hate it when I beat myself up and likely will be surprised when they read what I’m about to say.

Tomorrow I will be perfect. Regardless of where I place. Perfection does not mean flawless, tomorrow it means there is nothing I would change. I will stand on that stage and not give a shit about anyone’s expectations of me, only my own. I will stand in the line-up of competitors knowing I have put my heart, soul, sweat and blood into my training, nutrition and preparation. I can look you in the eye and say I’m not disappointed because there’s nothing we could have done differently.

Nothing worthwhile in life comes easy. This has been a meaningful challenge, an incredible experience and taken my life in a completely different direction.  If I could suspend this moment in time I would in a heartbeat.  Behind my big smile is a feeling of contentment and a heart filled with pride.

Competing is not for the faint of heart (and I’m not talking about the stage itself). Every contest preparation is different, and while this one has been very positive and fun, the hardest part is always the home stretch. Ironically, as your body leans out and you get closer to your “stage look,” you reach your weakest point.

One of the people I admire most in life is my brother Mark (yes, little bro it’s true). Of course like most siblings, we have had our moments, but it was actually through hockey in which we bonded. Throughout the years I have not only watched him play, but ridden the highs and lows of the game. I sat in the stands when he lost a minor hockey championship in triple overtime; stood proudly beaming when he was introduced for his first Ontario Hockey League game; jumped over the glass the night his team won the OHL Championship and felt his anguish when his shot hit the goal post at the Memorial Cup, CHL Championships (sorry to bring that up but it was a great TSN highlight that night).

Injured or healthy, leading a game or trailing badly, he would never give up and play with the passion of fresh legs on ice. I would listen to he and his teammates talking about “time to dig deep and play with heart.” Enviable, yes? Understandable, no.

But now I finally get it. For sixteen weeks my daily ritual has been a 3:30am wake-up, hours of training, followed by a full day of work, physical therapy, posing, eating and leaving time to ice my leg nightly before praying for sleep. At this stage of the game I have no fruit, dairy and limited starchy carbs in my diet. There are days I am overwhelmed and feel as if I can’t possibly walk one more step or eat one more piece of broccoli but then I remember my brother and how he would fight till the end and I find the fire in my gut to power through.

You may wonder why anyone would subject herself to this life? The answer is simple. I am about to do something that I never dreamed would be possible. For years I happily watched from the glass, but I always wanted a chance to be on that ice (figuratively speaking), in pursuit of that goal.

Tomorrow I leave for my first national figure competition following 18 months of training and fair share of ups and downs. Nervous? You bet. Excited? Absolutely.

But I have now discovered what my brother knew all these years – what it takes to dig deep and find your heart.

Thanks dear brother – this one’s for you.