It's only been 4 weeks since my last competition, and tomorrow I'll be going to Lexington for another, the Kentucky Bluegrass. I'm not competing in this one, but I've been working with 2 people that will be. I've actually been working with 3, but one of them tore his hamstring last week and will not be able to compete now.
I thought I'd have a lot more time on my hands when my own season was over, but that has not turned out to be the case. I've been focused on reeling in competitors for the show this weekend, and getting eleven competitors started in preparation for the Kentucky Muscle Bodybuilding and Figure Championships eleven weeks away. I already had my hands full with training clients, and with the added work load of competitors, I'm not sure how much time I'll have to dedicate to the expansion of the gym. That was supposed to be my focus as soon as my season was over, but I've let my personal training take the front seat. Despite my efforts, I haven't successfully added hours to the day thus far, and considering that I couldn't possible work more hours than I already do, it seems that I'll have to work the time management angle. That is quite a struggle for a girl with ADD whose business partner/husband has ADHD.
One of my continuing goals for a couple years now has been to maintain a lower off-season weight. So far, this has been the progression...155# in 2004...dieted to 120# for 2005 competition season...up to 155 again then a mini-diet to 145 in 2006...dieted to 125# for 2006 competition season...up to 143 post contest...Dieted to 120 again in 2007...up to 133 today. It looks like I should be able to maintain 130 to 135 through the off-season now. I feel good at this weight. I'm able to lift heavy, feel good doing cardio, eat extra food sometimes, but not all the time, and I am lean enough that I can eat clean for a couple days and have abs for a shoot. The best thing about keeping lower body weight through the off-season, is that I won't have to diet as long next time I compete.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Friday, August 3, 2007
Spot the Cat...the end of an era.
When I was 18 years old, I moved out of my parents' house, and into an apartment. A couple months later, K-3 (that's short for Kitty the third, who was the daughter of Kitty the second, who inherited the throne upon Kitty's death), had a litter, and I wanted to keep the smallest one. The girls I shared my home with should be thought of as the evil step sisters. I wasn't related to them, but they were sisters...twins, in fact. They said that they had never had a cat, but were interested in giving it a shot, so we would take in the kitty for 10 days after which they could say they didn't want to keep it if they so chose, and I would find a new home for her. After 10 days, they agreed that Spot could stay.
When I would eat my breakfast in the mornings, I would fill her bowl with cat food, and then drop some of my breakfast on the floor for her. If I forgot to fill her bowl, she'd remind me, and if I didn't get around to dropping anything extra for her, she'd complain. She was a very vocal cat, and made her presence known when she saw fit. I found these qualities to be endearing, but the evil twin sisters, thought they were annoying, and requested that I get rid of her after she'd been living with us for over a month. They had their window of opportunity before and agreed to let her stay, and at this point, I was not getting rid of her. The only solution was to confine her to my room. It wasn't so bad, because I had the biggest room in the house, and a huge window to the front porch and view of the street.
It's funny how a little cat can become such a huge part of your life. I remember when she got out of my apartment one time, and I walked up and down the streets calling her. She would come when I called her name in the house, so it wasn't that far fetched that I might find her outside this way. I gave up after a while, and hoped that she'd return on her own. I left the windows open that she'd used as a pathway out, and went to sleep upset that my cat was out and could be hurt and I couldn't help her. I woke up in the middle of the night to her curled up at the foot of my bed. I jumped up and ran to the window to shut it so that she couldn't make me worry about her again.
I moved around a lot my first few years out of the parents' house. I was in nine apartments in four and a half years, and Spot was with me through all of it. Spot was always a little standoffish. She wanted to be pet, but just a little. A couple fingers scratching on her head was good, and maybe a stroke down her back with your whole hand, but just once or she'll walk away. When people came over, she watched from afar. If you'd been over several times she may let you reach down and stroke he back, but not until she got to know you a little. For three years, it was just us, but then we moved in with other people, Adam, Shawn, and Rob. Rob was allergic to her, but his sinuses adjusted after several months, and they became good friends. Later, when Rob would visit, he was one of the only people she took any interest in.
Spot was a little slower to warm up to Adam, who I eventually married. Only within the last year, she started sleeping on the edge of the bed next to him. Adam had always referred to Spot as my cat, not his or ours. I was happy to hear her purring one night as Adam pet her in bed next us. She was a pretty high strung little cat, but mellowed out as she got older. Even our Dogs, Parker and Bailey, had a friendly repor with her by the end.
When Adam pointed out that she hadn't been eating, and I realized that she had lost a significant amount of weight I was really concerned. She was lethargic and wouldn't eat her food or cat treats that I gave her. Her back was stiff and bent over and she looked like she was exhausted. I cooked her some chicken and fish, and put her bed, litter box, food and water all together so that she wouldn't have to exert extra energy. The vet wasn't going to be able to see her until the next day at noon.
Putting all her things together like that reminded me of when she went through a phase where she moaned loudly at night while she was in heat, and I had to take her to get spayed. When I got her back home, she was still a little out of it and couldn't really walk all that straight. I had done the same thing for her then. In the middle of the room she had a bed, litter box, food, and water. It worked well while she was weak for a couple days, but then she recovered and was fine. This time I wasn't sure if she was going to recover.
Spot went to the vet on Wednesday, and I was scheduled to leave town on Thursday morning. The vet said she was dehydrated and probably had kidney failure. They would put fluids in her and hope for a good recovery. She stayed a the vet's until we returned the following week. I spoke to the doctor on Friday, and she said that Spot was pigging out and being feisty like normal. I was so relieved to hear that she was going to be fine, and I had a great weekend.
We returned late on Tuesday, and I got a call from the vet's office Wednesday telling me that I needed to come in and talk to the doctor because Spot's condition had gotten worse. I went to pick her up, to find that she was skinny still, and that he breathing was labored. She had become anemic, and since since her red blood cell count was so low, they couldn't continue to administer fluids. She had stopped eating again and hadn't really had anything since Monday. The doctor said that if she made it 24 hours, she might be okay, but there were no guarantees. I took her home to her area with a bed, litter box, food and water, but then I had to go back to work.
That evening, I picked up some dinner for myself and went home to check on Spot. I set her on the couch next to me hoping she would be comfortable. After a little while, she jumped off the couch and started to walk behind it. I was sure she had no idea what she was doing, so I picked her up and carried her to the litter box where she emptied her bladder. I saw that she had done so earlier too, and knew that if she wouldn't drink any water, she wouldn't last long. I placed her in front of her water bowl hoping that somehow she snap out of it and start drinking and eating, but she just laid there. Then she got up and darted out of the room to a towel in the hallway that she had laid on earlier. I decided that I should leave her there and try not to have her move around anymore. When I came back to check on her only 10 minutes later, she had passed away.
I felt awful that she had been in so much pain. I was disappointed that she felt better while we were gone and was sick again before we were back. I was sad that she was wasn't going to be around anymore. I called Adam to tell him. My parents came up to watch the gym so that he could come home. I sat and stared at my dead friend until Adam came in the door.
She was a good cat...temperamental and finicky like you expect from a cat and a personality that you do not expect from a cat. She sang along when I sang loudly. She let out a concerned meow when Adam tickled me and I yelled. When I called her name, she popped her head through the doorway where ever I was and meowed back. She chased you down the hallway past her food dish crying for attention if she thought it wasn't full enough. She kept Bailey in line by screeching at her when she smelled her too closely, only to be nipped at. She led Parker and Bailey both in a game of follow the leader in circles around the house. She was sweet and quirky, and she was my cat.
We took her to the animal hospital and are having her cremated. I know it may sound weird, but for some reason it didn't seem right to bury her. I spent much of Thursday picking out an urn that would be nice and appropriate for her. It's a 7 inch tall white cat sitting upright. I'm going to put her leather spiked collar with her name tag on it.
Adam said she waited for me to come home to pass away.
I think he's right.
When I would eat my breakfast in the mornings, I would fill her bowl with cat food, and then drop some of my breakfast on the floor for her. If I forgot to fill her bowl, she'd remind me, and if I didn't get around to dropping anything extra for her, she'd complain. She was a very vocal cat, and made her presence known when she saw fit. I found these qualities to be endearing, but the evil twin sisters, thought they were annoying, and requested that I get rid of her after she'd been living with us for over a month. They had their window of opportunity before and agreed to let her stay, and at this point, I was not getting rid of her. The only solution was to confine her to my room. It wasn't so bad, because I had the biggest room in the house, and a huge window to the front porch and view of the street.
It's funny how a little cat can become such a huge part of your life. I remember when she got out of my apartment one time, and I walked up and down the streets calling her. She would come when I called her name in the house, so it wasn't that far fetched that I might find her outside this way. I gave up after a while, and hoped that she'd return on her own. I left the windows open that she'd used as a pathway out, and went to sleep upset that my cat was out and could be hurt and I couldn't help her. I woke up in the middle of the night to her curled up at the foot of my bed. I jumped up and ran to the window to shut it so that she couldn't make me worry about her again.
I moved around a lot my first few years out of the parents' house. I was in nine apartments in four and a half years, and Spot was with me through all of it. Spot was always a little standoffish. She wanted to be pet, but just a little. A couple fingers scratching on her head was good, and maybe a stroke down her back with your whole hand, but just once or she'll walk away. When people came over, she watched from afar. If you'd been over several times she may let you reach down and stroke he back, but not until she got to know you a little. For three years, it was just us, but then we moved in with other people, Adam, Shawn, and Rob. Rob was allergic to her, but his sinuses adjusted after several months, and they became good friends. Later, when Rob would visit, he was one of the only people she took any interest in.
Spot was a little slower to warm up to Adam, who I eventually married. Only within the last year, she started sleeping on the edge of the bed next to him. Adam had always referred to Spot as my cat, not his or ours. I was happy to hear her purring one night as Adam pet her in bed next us. She was a pretty high strung little cat, but mellowed out as she got older. Even our Dogs, Parker and Bailey, had a friendly repor with her by the end.
When Adam pointed out that she hadn't been eating, and I realized that she had lost a significant amount of weight I was really concerned. She was lethargic and wouldn't eat her food or cat treats that I gave her. Her back was stiff and bent over and she looked like she was exhausted. I cooked her some chicken and fish, and put her bed, litter box, food and water all together so that she wouldn't have to exert extra energy. The vet wasn't going to be able to see her until the next day at noon.
Putting all her things together like that reminded me of when she went through a phase where she moaned loudly at night while she was in heat, and I had to take her to get spayed. When I got her back home, she was still a little out of it and couldn't really walk all that straight. I had done the same thing for her then. In the middle of the room she had a bed, litter box, food, and water. It worked well while she was weak for a couple days, but then she recovered and was fine. This time I wasn't sure if she was going to recover.
Spot went to the vet on Wednesday, and I was scheduled to leave town on Thursday morning. The vet said she was dehydrated and probably had kidney failure. They would put fluids in her and hope for a good recovery. She stayed a the vet's until we returned the following week. I spoke to the doctor on Friday, and she said that Spot was pigging out and being feisty like normal. I was so relieved to hear that she was going to be fine, and I had a great weekend.
We returned late on Tuesday, and I got a call from the vet's office Wednesday telling me that I needed to come in and talk to the doctor because Spot's condition had gotten worse. I went to pick her up, to find that she was skinny still, and that he breathing was labored. She had become anemic, and since since her red blood cell count was so low, they couldn't continue to administer fluids. She had stopped eating again and hadn't really had anything since Monday. The doctor said that if she made it 24 hours, she might be okay, but there were no guarantees. I took her home to her area with a bed, litter box, food and water, but then I had to go back to work.
That evening, I picked up some dinner for myself and went home to check on Spot. I set her on the couch next to me hoping she would be comfortable. After a little while, she jumped off the couch and started to walk behind it. I was sure she had no idea what she was doing, so I picked her up and carried her to the litter box where she emptied her bladder. I saw that she had done so earlier too, and knew that if she wouldn't drink any water, she wouldn't last long. I placed her in front of her water bowl hoping that somehow she snap out of it and start drinking and eating, but she just laid there. Then she got up and darted out of the room to a towel in the hallway that she had laid on earlier. I decided that I should leave her there and try not to have her move around anymore. When I came back to check on her only 10 minutes later, she had passed away.
I felt awful that she had been in so much pain. I was disappointed that she felt better while we were gone and was sick again before we were back. I was sad that she was wasn't going to be around anymore. I called Adam to tell him. My parents came up to watch the gym so that he could come home. I sat and stared at my dead friend until Adam came in the door.
She was a good cat...temperamental and finicky like you expect from a cat and a personality that you do not expect from a cat. She sang along when I sang loudly. She let out a concerned meow when Adam tickled me and I yelled. When I called her name, she popped her head through the doorway where ever I was and meowed back. She chased you down the hallway past her food dish crying for attention if she thought it wasn't full enough. She kept Bailey in line by screeching at her when she smelled her too closely, only to be nipped at. She led Parker and Bailey both in a game of follow the leader in circles around the house. She was sweet and quirky, and she was my cat.
We took her to the animal hospital and are having her cremated. I know it may sound weird, but for some reason it didn't seem right to bury her. I spent much of Thursday picking out an urn that would be nice and appropriate for her. It's a 7 inch tall white cat sitting upright. I'm going to put her leather spiked collar with her name tag on it.
Adam said she waited for me to come home to pass away.
I think he's right.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
I Don't Do Figure!
I am back from Vegas! This competition season ended with a blast. There's no better place to celebrate the end of a 22 week diet than the a city that's known for buffets. I could write an entire post of everything I ate after the show, but first the low down on the competition...
USA's was a great show to compete in. It was very well run, and so nice that I was able to do prejudging and finals on the same day. I hate when the shows are spread out over 2 days. This was the biggest show I've ever done in several ways. First, it was the highest level national show I've ever been in. Second, there were 9 girls in my class, the biggest class I've even competed in. Third, the girls in my class were the biggest girls I'd ever been on stage with. When I got to prejudging Saturday morning, I realized that it was going to be a tough class. I didn't get called out in the first group of 6, so I knew I'd place 7, 8, or 9. I was scored as 9th place across the board. I was actually rewarded 8th because one of the women was withdrawn for some reason. The placings didn't turn out like I thought, but I'm learning why from the judges' standpoint.
This show was a bit of an eyeopener for me on my shortcomings. I had trouble making weight for my shows in 2005, so I thought I was at the top of the lightweight class. It became very apparent between Jr's where several people thought I was a figure girl, to USA's where nearly everybody thought I was a figure girl that I am not at the top of my weight class at this level. It started on the way to the athlete meeting when a guy on the shuttle looked at me and said "your official meeting was yesterday, right?". At first, I didn't know what he was talking about. He repeated himself, and then it sunk in that the figure athlete meeting was yesterday. A little irritated at his assuredness that I was a figure competitor, I just said "what are you talking about?" Then he realized his assumption was wrong and apologized. A female bodybuilder across the isle said "It's a compliment because you're pretty they assume you're figure." Backstage that night, the figure girls were supposed to go to the other side of the stage for their initial entrance at the show. Several girls explained to me that "the figure girls are supposed to be over there", to which I responded, "I'm a bodybuilder". When I was finished and the awards were being given out to the top 5 lightweights, I got dressed in a skirt and tank top to go see Adam. I couldn't find him and my cell phone was back stage. No big deal, my friend was just outside and I could have him call Adam to meet me in the lobby. I looked at the woman watching the door "if I run out there really quick, you'll let me back in, right?" Now, I'm painted brown and wearing a posing suit under my skirt and tank top, but she looks me up and down and said where's your badge? I was dumbfounded, "You don't think I'm a competitor?" She just looked at me "where's your number?" I hollered out the door to my friend, spoke to him through a gap in the door, and glared at her as I walked off. I went backstage to gather my things, and got some strange looks from a couple of people just before I entered the pump up room. "Where's your badge?" I feel so harassed by this point, "Dude, I'm a competitor! My number is back there. I'll go get it." A few seconds later, the guy yells across the room "They said you're not a competitor." I was exacerbated "What!?" "They said you are a competitor. It's okay." I had misunderstood him the first time and was getting pissy by then, but I calmed down, gathered my things, and went to join my friends outside. Celebrations ensued shortly after.
USA's was a great show to compete in. It was very well run, and so nice that I was able to do prejudging and finals on the same day. I hate when the shows are spread out over 2 days. This was the biggest show I've ever done in several ways. First, it was the highest level national show I've ever been in. Second, there were 9 girls in my class, the biggest class I've even competed in. Third, the girls in my class were the biggest girls I'd ever been on stage with. When I got to prejudging Saturday morning, I realized that it was going to be a tough class. I didn't get called out in the first group of 6, so I knew I'd place 7, 8, or 9. I was scored as 9th place across the board. I was actually rewarded 8th because one of the women was withdrawn for some reason. The placings didn't turn out like I thought, but I'm learning why from the judges' standpoint.
This show was a bit of an eyeopener for me on my shortcomings. I had trouble making weight for my shows in 2005, so I thought I was at the top of the lightweight class. It became very apparent between Jr's where several people thought I was a figure girl, to USA's where nearly everybody thought I was a figure girl that I am not at the top of my weight class at this level. It started on the way to the athlete meeting when a guy on the shuttle looked at me and said "your official meeting was yesterday, right?". At first, I didn't know what he was talking about. He repeated himself, and then it sunk in that the figure athlete meeting was yesterday. A little irritated at his assuredness that I was a figure competitor, I just said "what are you talking about?" Then he realized his assumption was wrong and apologized. A female bodybuilder across the isle said "It's a compliment because you're pretty they assume you're figure." Backstage that night, the figure girls were supposed to go to the other side of the stage for their initial entrance at the show. Several girls explained to me that "the figure girls are supposed to be over there", to which I responded, "I'm a bodybuilder". When I was finished and the awards were being given out to the top 5 lightweights, I got dressed in a skirt and tank top to go see Adam. I couldn't find him and my cell phone was back stage. No big deal, my friend was just outside and I could have him call Adam to meet me in the lobby. I looked at the woman watching the door "if I run out there really quick, you'll let me back in, right?" Now, I'm painted brown and wearing a posing suit under my skirt and tank top, but she looks me up and down and said where's your badge? I was dumbfounded, "You don't think I'm a competitor?" She just looked at me "where's your number?" I hollered out the door to my friend, spoke to him through a gap in the door, and glared at her as I walked off. I went backstage to gather my things, and got some strange looks from a couple of people just before I entered the pump up room. "Where's your badge?" I feel so harassed by this point, "Dude, I'm a competitor! My number is back there. I'll go get it." A few seconds later, the guy yells across the room "They said you're not a competitor." I was exacerbated "What!?" "They said you are a competitor. It's okay." I had misunderstood him the first time and was getting pissy by then, but I calmed down, gathered my things, and went to join my friends outside. Celebrations ensued shortly after.
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