by Kris Pitcher
Five weeks out and counting. It must be like when you're pregnant and everyone (everyday) asks you how you feel. They want to touch your big swollen belly, smile in your face and hear all about it.
Same as yesterday. I'm going to eat the same things as yesterday. My morning cardio was awesome, and I can hardly wait to do my evening cardio. I'll muster up the energy to lift...but I'm thinking in my head, "Four more chest workouts - make this one count."
The count down is on. We are hunkered down, focused - crazy focused. We take everything we need everywhere we go. We try to act normal, like normal people. Fit in to normal life. It's an act.
The insomnia this prep is like no other. I toss and I turn and I'm grateful for five hours of sleep. I do a lot of thinking in those hours. The mind is never quiet. I visualize my posing, I solve problems...I wish upon stars.
So as you rub my belly and smile into my face...prep is going well. I'm leaning out, and looking good. I'm excited about the hard work which is being uncovered after a productive off season. The year of eating clean and lifting heavy paid off. I'm even ready to pose in my (tiny) suit.
I'm nervous, excited, and anxious. And why do we do this? We do it to push ourselves beyond limits. To take the stage presenting a physique better than last season. We do it to craft our bodies, to fine tune, to mold and refine. We do it because we don't really like to golf.
As it gets more difficult in the final weeks I remind myself, I do this by choice. I can manage my hobby along with the other things in my life. I will fight off the fatigue, I will rise to the challenge, I am a champion. I compete because I love it. Competing is a blissful choice.