Gazing through the hotel window of the sunny downtown landscape, she stands naked and concealed only by a thin canopy as strangers wait in line behind her. All dignity flies out that huge window as her whole body is spray painted brown like a canvas – tanning time. But this tan is darker than most and she must carefully slide into her loose black pants and tank top to keep the sticky coat of paint from smearing.
Two friends who have driven four hours to see the show, chauffeur her around town. The present her with gifts of bacon and candy to look forward to the next day. They take the final progress photos and she settles in for a restless night of sleep.
The buzzing of the alarm breaks the silence of an early dark morning, sitting up in bed she immediately notices the handprint on her sternum. Some mistakes are unavoidable even though every moment leading up to this day has been based on some sort of ideal – an unattainable perfection. Nails done, five inch heels tucked into the suitcase, make-up caked on by a professional – she drives to the theatre where she will display the last four months of meticulous work. For four months there have been no cheat meals, an exceptional amount of cardio, and not-so-heavy weights – it’s show time.
She arrives at the theatre and sits impatiently waiting for the athletes meeting with 
dozens of other hungry bodybuilders. Next, it’s time to put on the bedazzled bright pink bikini. Glittery jewelry, dramatic make-up, lips as pink as her suit – she knows this will be a one-time event for her. Christina Aguilera blasts onto the speakers and it’s posing time. This unique experience, though, is far more than what others see on stage. She knows that. Her fellow competitors know that. And she knows what she wants to do next.
Powerlifting.
During my bodybuilding show prep, I learned about myself and about self-discipline. I 
loved the mental fortitude I had to build each day and the challenge of moving past my comfort zone. During prep, I went on a work trip to Haiti and El Salvador. I did daily workouts in my hotel room and stowed away protein bars and powder. And yet when I returned to the United States, the measurements and scale would not budge. My coach had to add in more cardio than normal and restrict my carbohydrates more intensely, which was a challenge I enjoyed.
However, I absolutely love to lift heavy and I knew I wanted something more than this show. I met a friend in a prowler exercise group who kept telling me I sounded like a powerlifter. His words stuck with me and nagged at me (as did the friends in that group). I did the show, I loved it, but I did not love all the glitz and glam. I truly love, and as it turns out need, the grit of lifting the heaviest weight I possibly can. That is where I would find empowerment.
When I first began a powerlifting program, I HATED the training. The workouts seemed incredibly boring compared to all the volume and muscle groups I was used to focusing on. But my powerlifting friends pushed me to keep giving it a valid effort. Now, I know the program I was using did not fully suit me even though it was a great introduction to powerlifting.
When I decided to try powerlifting I knew it was right for me. However, I had both good
friends and mere acquaintances all itching to let me know I might hate powerlifting and they tried to put their expectations on me. People warned me I would get fat, my body shape change (from lean to round), and that powerlifting was wildly unhealth. They also indicated it was pointless to do the sport unless I was on steroids because “everyone” in powerlifting does steroids.
These people were not wrong about some of these things, even though their motives were questionable. My body shape did completely change. For me, it was for the better, and for a far more sustainable future.
What those people did not know is that powerlifting would be the path God used to save me. Powerlifting pulled me straight out of a physically and emotionally abusive relationship. This sport taught me self-worth, empowerment, and growth. I learned not to allow the weight of the world to bear me down. I learned to push back. I learned to stand up. With every callous gained, every shin torn, each muscle ache, and each painful rep… I fought back. The iron was the straight forward battle I needed that showed me I could win. I won against myself every single day.
I lift because there is a darkness in me. The darkness does not rule me. But it is there. I powerlift because it allows me to focus that which might make me bitter into something that helps make me better. With every rep, the weight of my past – bad relationships, the loss of two uncles, the loss of two grandfathers, the loss of a grandmother, the loss of friendships and the loss of my old self – with those moments I rise. I rise through them, in spite of them, and because of them. The weight is lifted, the past is buried, a new beginning arises – endless possibilities always moving forward.
adfontes86 