The Law of Tenacity

Remember my blogpost on my 2010 NABBA entry? Take a look at it. See the fatty on the right. That was me. My performance was so shoddy I think they gave me a medal out of pity. I know, I know – ‘fatty’ is kinda harsh but it’s relative. Although the body I presented last year earned me no end of catcalls in Woolwich and surrounding areas, I simply was not up to scratch in the bodybuilding arena and I am honest enough with myself to admit it.

Unfortunately, I’m allergic to failure and that particular loss burned me to the core. So with the help of Barbados’ finest I plotted and planned my attack for the 2011 NABBA South East show.

I maintained a set point throughout the winter and when I was 11 weeks out – I attacked my contest prep,  declined lunch/dinner invitations, prepped and carried my own food to social functions and tried to keep my mind focused on the goal so as to drown out the noise of the naysayers.

Challenges

What I hadn’t planned for was a complete upheaval of my schedule as I knew it. I went from being based in an office from 9 to 6 to being on the road and not knowing where my job would send me from one day to the next. No biggie you say? Wrong! Not knowing where I would be  at my 3 hourly feeding intervals was a little challenging re meal prep. Furthermore, little comforts like a clean restroom went from being a given to a welcome sight. As a Type ‘A’ personality the lack of stability and control meant a battle with cortisol. Any bodybuilder or fitness head worth their salt will know that cortisol is definitely not your friend. With a physique that has always struggled to develop abs, the new stressors were definitely not welcome. Then came the ultimate spanner: an impromptu trip to the states 3 weeks out from comp. It was a trip I definitely couldn’t get out of and it could not have come at a worse time.

Whilst America is a great place to be if you are eating clean – the 8 hour journey each way filled me with dread. I wasn’t even sure if to eat every 3 hours on local time or hometown time – but I managed to get over that hurdle as well.

Then 1 week out I realised that my Aunt Flo was planning a visit. I remember thinking to myself – ‘Are you kidding?’ I’ve dieted well, trained hard, become a hermit and remained focused and I just can’t get the spanners to STOP!’ As the comp date got nearer I looked more and more bloated. The more bloated I looked the more unhappy I became and the more actively I had to battle the feelings of doubt that wanted to overcome me.

Secret Weapon

So I did what any self-respecting diva would do. I cranked up my swag. I went to see Paulette Sybliss to make sure my posing was on lock. Then I upped my water intake, made sure my routine was down pat and retwisted my locs. Two days before comp, swag (and water) were upped another notch and the night before the show I had stopped drinking water and was just tanning and chilling. At this stage you couldn’t convince me that I wasn’t the baddest b*tch my side of the Thames – despite my Aunt Flo eventually making her debut.

Showtime

When I got to the show I was over the moon to find out that I was first on stage. Bloating was still an issue so I upped the swag a little more, popped my nose in the air and got on with the final part of my prep – glazing and pumping.

I knew I was in with a shot when the backstage manager didn’t recognise me from last year. As a matter of fact, he was so shocked when he realised I was the teletubby from the year before that he did a double take – twice. My nose was so high in the air at this stage that I have no clue how I was able to see in front of me!

To say I was over the moon when my name was called out as the winner is an understatement. Random muscles were cramping from dehydration and I was tired from posing but the victory made it all worth it. 

What’s next? I’m not sure. What I do know is that I have tested the law of tenacity and can endorse it. If you want something badly enough, there isn’t a whole lot that can stop you from achieving it.

Trainer: Corey Springer

Nutritionist: Corey Springer

Posing Coach: Paulette Sybliss

Tan: Jan Tana

Costume: Chrissie’s Cozzies

Routine Music: 'Pass Out' -Tinie Tempah

Handball: The Other Rugby

Women's GB team celebrate after victory over Slovakia

When I read about Lynn McCafferty’s commitment to handball a few months ago in the Evening Standard I instantly had respect for her dedication to the sport. After meeting her and playing alongside her... I felt honoured.

I had the opportunity to play handball alongside Britain’s elite for two days and get a sneak peek into the lives of the women who have been quietly chipping away at the challenges that have accompanied their decision to represent GB next year in this discipline.

The entire initiation to this sport was a complete shock to the system – after all, the sports I’ve participated in are volleyball, basketball, athletics and cheerleading (don’t laugh). None of the above are as tactile or sticky as handball is.

The fundamental actions of handball are similar to some sporst, but it is definitely a unique game. It’s a little like basketball, except there are two more players on the court and contact is encouraged. It also requires some fundamentals of volleyball like explosivity, but the swinging action is high and not across the body. In fact, after being charged into by a defender, Iconcluded that handball is basically rugby on a wooden floor! Handball is definitely a contact sport, but once you get the hang of it, it’s a little addictive.

My fascination with the sport continued off court when I had the chance to hear the journeys of players like Jukesy, Fudge, Holly, Heidi, Mahony and Laura.

The Olympic funding pot took a big hit when the economy was flipped on its back a few years ago which left quite a few elite athletes with the unfortunate task of juggling the responsibility of sports performance and day-to-day maintenance. Each of these ladies has had to make major sacrifices in order to contribute to the development of this sport in the UK. The more stories I heard, the more I wondered if the spectators at next year’s games would ever fully appreciate what a lot of GB athletes have invested and forgone in order to ensure that they represent their country with nothing less than their A-game. If these women didn’t love the sport, they would have plenty to gripe about, but you only need to spend 15 minutes with the squad to confirm that their involvement is fuelled from a genuine love of the game and passion for excellence.

Despite having had the floor wiped with me, I left that session with sore hip flexors, tight hamstrings and a new found respect for the ladies of the GB handball team.

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