I sat on the couch after one of the longest days of my life. I was finally done with my competition and I was happy with my performance. I did my absolute best and still walked away with 2nd place trophy against tough competition. This meant that I not only accomplished my goal of competing, but I had qualified to compete at the national level. I was on cloud 9, but not because of the actual win, but because of everything that win meant.
Still, I knew I never wanted to do another show again.
Allow me to explain
There’s nothing like the post show shower. I felt like I was washing away 10 weeks of muck that piled on leading up to show day. As the tan ran down the drain I felt lighter and lighter and when the water finally ran clear, so did my mind. I took off the layers of AM and PM touch up makeup and when I looked in the mirror, I recognized myself. I smiled, satisfied that the skin color on my face matched the skin color on my body.
I walked into the living room and I said out loud “I have to get rid of all the evidence.” I didn’t want to look at the puff on the counter with tan smeared all over it, my suit on the floor slick with oil and sweat, my shoes mysteriously thrown in two separate locations, the rice cakes, raisins, jewelry, and makeup. I wanted it all out of my site. I did take my trophy and proudly displayed it on the bookcase, so it was in-view from the sofa.
I was sick from being so dehydrated and my body felt like I had been in a 10-round fight. I hadn’t slept for more than 3 hours at a time for the past two weeks and my eyes were heavy with exhaustion and yet closing them for the rest they so desperately needed was pointless. I drank a half a bottle of Pedialyte and threw myself on the couch. I tried to sit up but allowing the couch to support my heavy weight felt much more comfortable, so I lazily slouched down as though I was melting away and slightly turned my head to look at my prize.
I paused, said “Man, this is wack,” then I began to laugh.
“What?” Anon was confused.
“All of it. The whole thing. Competing. It’s wack.”
I knew then I was done for life. I knew before that I wouldn’t come back because I had a feeling this was my last prep, but I didn’t know I would decide then and there to close the book on the bodybuilding chapter of my life. Slouching there, tired and relieved, I knew that it was no longer worth it to me. The early mornings coupled with body and hunger pains were a burden for the first time since I started on this journey and as a result, I knew I could no longer give anymore to bodybuilding, and bodybuilding could no longer give me anything that would be worth it.
In the past I would tell myself “no one is making you do this Leah” to motivate me to take charge and get mean. It was my mantra for living life on my own terms.
That night I told myself the same thing but this time the tone was different. “No one is making you do this so why are you doing this to yourself?” 6 years ago I could answer that question every single day until that very day. I had nothing to prove anymore, I did what I set out to do and I didn’t want to continue the same path; it was all empty now.
Sometimes you get lucky enough to stay on the same road and set bigger and badder goals, and sometimes you take the left turn at the fork instead. I was turning and there was nothing that was going to change my mind about it.
There’s something so bittersweet about accomplishing goals. It feels powerful and strong, like you can take on the world. It’s true pride. Then there’s the other side of it that stings a little bit. Part of you doesn’t want to let go because you have become this person trying to do this thing for so long, and now it’s all over. There’s a hole inside, almost like the emptiness funerals bring. You know your life will be different now and you don’t know how. Maybe it even scares you.
I had another show scheduled the following Saturday, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The money was gone, and I just couldn’t give anymore. Like a hard breakup, I wanted to end on good terms because this sport has given me more than abs and fancy suit.
The trophy is light, but it’s loaded with so much. It’s loaded with a story of growth and passion. Failures, success, setbacks and comebacks. Tears, blood, sweat, prayers and a little bit of luck. It’s filled with a dream that I thought was only a dream, but had the courage to dream anyway.
I thought back to that very first day and I asked myself if I really thought it was possible for me.
In many ways I did. I knew that if I followed the program and the diet I would eventually get there. It logically made sense at every step.
What I didn’t know was the person I had to become to get to where I am and that’s what I’m truly proud of; that’s what that win meant for me.
To the sport that gave me life, and the courage to live it, thank you, and this is our goodbye. I don’t know what’s next for me, maybe something better, or maybe nothing will ever compare. I do know I will never forget my first love, and the story it told of how I became the person I always wanted to be, but never thought I could be.
Here’s to bodybuilding.
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