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How did you know you wanted to be a bodybuilder?


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Or at the very least, train like one?


I'm trying to figure out if that is what I want right now. A few years ago, I had a trainer train me for a figure competition that was a year away... which was fine, had a bit of weight to lose and what not. But he started us (there was a group of mostly girls) on the diet you would do to cut for the competition. A year out. It was a crap load of meat and VERY little carbs. (this was when I was not vegan or even a vegetarian for that matter, so it was a lot of chicken and broccoli. SICK.)


So loooong story short, the damn diet totally messed me up in the head, I quit (along with half the girls training, since we all went crazy at the same time!) and swore I would never do it again.


But now I'm thinking.. I might want to. Especially since I'm now vegan, I feel like it MIGHT be a different experience. Or, at the very least, I want to train like one and get that look. Maybe not competition ready, but near there. With a bit more body fat. So that is why I'm asking... are you/did you train for a competition, or do you just like the look?


Thank you!

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As for me....


I never train, I lift. It's just become an essential facet of my personality and lifestyle. I'm past the point of laying plans and setting goals, now I do it because it's simply necessary to my well being and happiness, much like a working vehicle and hot showers. When I don't go in regularly to the weight room, I'm not myself. Here's how I started: viewtopic.php?f=2&t=22080


The way my body heats up like a Hemi entertains me. I love how the weights shrink and become lighter and lighter with every visit. The biochemical storm of endorphins and amino acids makes sweet thunder in my ears. The mirror has gone from an enemy to a friend to a tool to a window. Clothes are an afterthought. Food has shifted from a science to a physical extension of self. I've come to crave the smell of sweat and rubber and leather and iron more than my own sheets. When I see chalk on a man's hands, I don't think "schoolteacher" or "billiards." I have a more relaxed and intimate connection with my lifting regulars than with any work colleagues or hiking buddies. The only things I worry about losing are my car keys and lifting gloves. I leaf through sports clothes catalogs that come in the mail and throw the designer clothes catalogs away. There are three first dates I'd love to go on: 1. Walking the deep, dark forest together at midnight with infrared goggles, 2. Trying a sport or art neither one of us has done before, and 3. Lifting together. I've sculpted a compliment-gathering hairstyle suited to multiple sports and quick showers. My jewelry and make up boxes have become lighter and lighter as I've come to realize that the human body, in gorgeous form, needs no enhancement.


It never occurred to me to compete though many have asked me if I do. (Coaches have tried to recruit me to box, too.) It never occurred to me to look like a bodybuilder though I rarely get asked, "Ma'am, can I help you carry those bags out to your car?" I don't follow any diets, adopt any programs, or target any specific areas. And yet, invariably, large men will approach me at the dumbbell rack and ask, "Hey, you look like you know what you're doing, am I doing these right?"


I don't know my ring size but I can tell you how much your backpack weighs to within a pound by dangling it from two fingers. I can't examine a diamond for clarity but I can tell you what size dumbbells those are on the other side of the gym just by glancing at them. I have no idea what my cholesterol or credit ratings are but I can move the entire contents of my address to a new location by myself if I have to. (Except for that damned hyperflexible Tempurpedic mattress.) These are all just bonuses.


I lift for one reason and one reason only: it feels GOOD! Start with something feeling good, and the right path will always rise to meet you. If the very idea of competitive bodybuilding makes you feel giddy like a little kid waiting for your turn on the slide, then do it. Enjoy the hell out of it, every part.


So, in answer to your question how did I know I wanted to be a bodybuilder: I didn't know. I just followed the fun.


Baby Herc

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