#20weeksout

20 weeks. 20 weeks to accomplish something I never imagined I would ever consider doing in my wildest dreams let alone in my own reality.137 days to transform in more ways than one . Roughly 3312 hours and approximately 198,720 minutes to push myself, my body, to my absolute limits. 20 weeks to do things that people would deem insane. 20 weeks seems like a long time. 20 weeks is no time at all. 

43 weeks ago. 43 weeks ago I made a change that has forever impacted my life. 43 weeks ago I made a choice that  introduced me to my ultimate passions. 43 weeks ago I was a girl on the brink of self-destruction, again. 43 weeks ago I met someone I didn’t know I needed. 43 weeks ago I started something that I believed would have an end date. 43 weeks ago, while I didn’t yet know it, I began a journey that turned into a lifestyle. 43 weeks seems like a long time. 43 weeks is no time at all. 

If you were to ask me who I was 43 weeks ago and return today inquiring the same thing, the answers would be vastly different. 10 months ago, I would have answered that I was a runner. I was known throughout my town as the girl who ran. Whether pouring rain, snow, ice, debilitating wind, or the less frequent picture-perfect weather, every afternoon you could find me running. Every summer morning I woke up with the sun to beat the Jersey summer heat and humidity and ran the boardwalk. Every winter, I put layer upon layer of clothing on, equipped with gloves and an ear-warmer and prayed I wouldn’t freeze for my run around my college campus or slip on ice patches near my house. I ran when I was upset. I ran when I was happy. I ran when I wanted to do anything but. I ran through countless pulls, minor injuries, and fatigue. I was a runner. That was how I identified myself, and if I didn’t run it felt as if I was letting someone down, like I was letting myself down. 

I lived like this for 6 years. 72 months. 312 weeks. During this time, I experienced weight loss, disordered eating, purposeful weight gain, recovery and satiety with my weight and life, and then unexplained weight gain. By the end of these 6 years, my legs were screaming, but I wouldn’t listen. My mind was slowly reacquainting itself with its disordered ways of eating and thinking, tricking my eyes as I looked in the mirror and saw nothing but a whale. I was a woman repossessed, until something inside me told me I needed to make a change. Something, of which now I can only attribute to fate, made me wake up and realize that I was destroying myself from the inside out. Whether it was fate or just coincidence, I’ll never know. Regardless of the circumstance, this change will forever be one of the defining moments of my life. This leap of faith, this step outside of my comfort zone, introduced me to my true passion, the thing that sets my heart on fire, something I believe my purpose to be in life. I may not be “the runner” anymore, but I am something better. 

43 weeks ago I found myself. When I traded in my running shoes for my lifting gloves, it was as if the person I truly was meant to be in this world emerged. Like a butterfly breaking free from its cocoon, I was introduced to this entirely new and exciting fitness world. 43 weeks ago, when I stopped focusing on a number, the number of calories in my food, the number on the scale, the size of my clothing, and instead focused on my nutrition, the types of foods I was eating, the strength I was feeling during my workouts, the confidence I was gaining, I realized how happy I could truly be. 43 weeks ago I was a person that I no longer identify with. That girl is no longer there, but the girl who replaced her is far superior. 

Throughout these 43 weeks, I have pushed myself outside of my comfort zone. I have learned that you truly have to do things you’ve never done in order to get results that you’ve never gotten before. I gave up control that I thought I would hold on to forever. I gained weight that I never imagined I would, purposefully of course. I became uncomfortable more times than I can count, I’ve battled degrading voices in my head telling me to disobey my coach, I’ve reached my absolute mental breaking point yet kept it together. And just when I was about ready to give up, that is when it all paid off. That was when I realized how badly I really wanted this. That was when I fought with every inch of my being for my passion.

This past week, I began an even newer and, what will prove to be a, tougher fitness journey. All the weight gain, all the restriction of cardio, and all the blood, sweat, and tears led up to this moment. The moment that I decided I was going to start prepping for my first bodybuilding bikini competition. I had watched all the vlogs of countless YouTubers and finally found people that just “got it”. That understood my love for the science behind training and nutrition. That understood my passion for lifting and physique transformation, and were actually doing something with that passion. I realized everything they did in preparation for a “prep” were things I was already doing without a competition in mind. Whether it be their inspirational youtube videos or the natural competitor in me, it felt like this sport was just calling my name. 

Of course I cannot end this blog without mentioning my amazing coach. A woman who was once just my zumba instructor, emerged into my personal trainer and nutritionist, and I am now blessed to call her my biggest inspiration and great friend. She is more than just a coach to me. She has been there with me through it all. Through all the anxiety of gaining weight, through all the complaints of cutting cardio, through all my emotional ups and downs. Through everything. 43 weeks ago I met someone who I never knew would change my life forever and introduce me to my purpose and for that, I am so eternally grateful that I cannot even put it into words. I would never have come to this decision, have emerged into this greater version of myself if it weren’t for her. So, while I am nervous for the tough work ahead, I know that I have the best possible support system to help coach and guide me and to make me keep going when all I want to do is give up. She one of my greatest blessings and I love her for it. 

43 weeks. 43 weeks filled with tears, sweat, and dedication all leading up until this point, and it is only the beginning. I have found something that I love. A place where I can focus on myself, a lifestyle that I embody in every sense of the word. And it is only going to push me further from here on out. Prep starts now. Transformation starts now. From this point forward I am a bikini competitor, something I never in a million years would ever think I would say. But, I truly believe this is who I am, this was meant to find me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.