Body Diversity

I worry about my physique, probably too much. In fact, I know I think about it all the time. You may thing that's not a healthy obsession, or you may think it's perfectly normal, it all depends on the lens you are looking through.


I really don't worry about what others think, I worry about what I think. I want a muscular body, more muscular than the average person (be it male or female), lean, (leaner than the average person) and full- meaning a body that is fed and nourished properly so the muscles look "full".


You can only get what I want with a regular, consistant, hard training schedule, clean and nutritious food, and the right macro-nutrients and supplements.


Running would not give me the body I want, neither would a diet of salads. I need weight lifting and lots of protein.


One of the reasons I compete is to force myself to constantly stay on track, you see, it's not easy to do all of this. Actually I have no problem with the  training, I will make the time, that's not a question. I cannot think of a more enjoyable day than hitting the gym twice, morning on my own doing some cardio and calves, then practicing my posing in the yoga studio.

Later in the day lifting with Roy at BodyComp Gym. I love that, I love the challenge and the fact that he pushes me and expects me to perform. I remember once several years ago when I trained with SC, I said "You aren't going easy on me cause of my age are you?" and he replied "Kristy- no, I expect the same from you as I do from all my Athletes". His "athletes" were all collegiate, scholarship athletes less than half my age.

He could not have said anything to me that would have made me feel better.

Roy treats me like the rest of his clients and he treats me like the accomplished Athlete I am. I doubt I would be training with him if he didn't.


I often push myself so hard and have such high expectations of myself that I cannot see how accomplished I am. I cannot see how great my physique looks. I cannot see how smoothly I hum along like a fine tuned race car.

Roy sent this link to me recently, he said it is done every single year. I have never, ever seen it. It was eye opening for me. These are Athletes - Many are Olympic athletes, yet few of them even possess "the body" I strive for, one that I actually succeed in obtaining at competition time.


I completely understand we are training for different outcomes, our goals are not the same, yet a lot is the same. The never ending training. The strict dietary schedule of specific foods that must be weighed, measured, timed. The need for rest, need to avoid stress, fitting it all in.


Click on the link below, please take a long hard look. Scroll through and examine the bodies, they are all so very, very different. Many of them look like your average man or woman next door, some look downright unhealthy. Others looks stunning, like works of art. But they all represent the best of the best. They are the elite Athletes of the United States. They are what we can only dream about being. They are as different as you and I and they are all beautiful,magnificent, and glorious. 

Then think about how beautiful your own body is and celebrate it. Celebrate YOU!

Olympic Athletes Body Diversity

How far ahead are you thinking?

I am prepping for another competition, and when I get home and I am starved! Time for meal number 5 and it cannot be fast enough. I had my red snapper, brown rice, asparagus and mushrooms.

David and Cooper are feeling a little slighted about now, as they usually do when it gets this close to competition time and my diet is really rigid, so I made a very tasty pasta sauce for them with Italian sausage, mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, fresh basil and oregano. Topped with pecorino cheese, they enjoyed it.

I sit with them while they eat.

Talk got around to school and how we, as parents need to help Cooper make the right decisions and keep him on track, so he will grow into a responsible, successful, happy adult.

He didn't think we had to do that, he said "If I cannot figure it out right now myself, then I never can!", but I beg to differ.

I told him that he really shouldn't be able to right now, he is only 16. I said "You are probably thinking about as far ahead as tonight, and what you and your friends will be doing after dinner". He smiled, then laughed and nodded his head.

He looked at David and asked how far ahead he was thinking. I said "I bet you are thinking about as far ahead as the weekend, when you can relax a little".

  Again, I got a smile and agreement.

They both looked at me and were a bit afraid to ask, but they asked me how far ahead I was thinking. I was fast to answer because it's really been on my mind quite a bit.

6 months.

I am thinking about 6 months from now. I am planning how I will have changed in 6 months and wondering what I will look like and how I will feel.

I have been planning to take a break from competing for a while, at least 6 months. But that doesn't mean stopping the weight training, oh not at all. In fact, I am attending an Olympic weight lifting class Saturday at Catalyst Athletics in Sunnyvale. They have a weightlifting team, I am thinking of joining them.

I have already spoken with them, my skill level will need to be evaluated. I have done some Olympic lifting with SC, he  competes himself, but I haven't done enough to excel. I just may though, with a bit of private one on one coaching. I want to take time off from the rigid diet and see how much muscle I can add in 6 to 8 months, that means serious weights and serious food. I will have to get past the mental block of gaining weight, that's the hard part, but I think I can do it.

That means, I will be able to actually eat some of that pasta I make for them next time!

The only thing that may hold me back is a little problem called work. Training starts every night at 4:00, I may have a difficult time adjusting my schedule. 

The class was great- here is my new shirt. No one will know what this means unless they are familiar with Olympic lifts, I think it's pretty funny.

It's Only Baloney

Kristy 2010 NPC San Jose

I have mentioned a wonderful inspirational  book several times, and I have a story from it that I would like to share here. The book is "Winning Ways: How To Succeed In The Gym And Out" by Randall J. Strossen, PH.D.


This particular story hits home with me, I have always believed that we shoot as high as we aim. If we settle for just "OK" we will no doubt be just "OK". But when we believe we will achieve our goals and our dreams, we do.

This is story #58: It's Only Baloney

The doctor came out of the delivery room and told the man that he could either save the mother or the child but probably not both. As good fortune would have it, both lived, but the baby's arm was broken during the delivery, and in such a way that all the nerves in his left shoulder were shattered.

Despite a surgeon's best efforts to reconnect the nerves, the boy would face life with one arm that was a caricature of the other. His left arm was four inches shorter than his right. And even though he spent his first six years with his left arm in a heavy steel and leather brace and his first thirteen years in twice-weekly physical therapy sessions, his left arm was virtually useless. He would never be able to raise it over his shoulder or even straighten it out; he would never be able to clench or extend the fingers. In fact, learning to tie his shoes was one of the biggest challenges of his life.

But this kid was no whiner, so instead of cowering in a corner, he squared off with his challenges. For every insult he had to endure, he just got tougher as he fought back. When he was 14 he said "I discovered that $42.00 was all I needed to erase the hated image of myself that faced me every night from the mirror...My left arm hung crooked by my side, practically without muscle" Forty-two dollars, you see, was the price of a barbell set he'd seen advertised in a magazine. Since his family could barely afford the dollar for each of his therapy sessions, he knew it was out of the question to ask for $42.00. What did he do? He saved the .10 cents he'd been spending on bus fare from the hospital twice a week, first by walking and then running the five miles. That, he said, marked the beginning if his athletic career.

He got the weights and put them to good use. It wasn't too long afterward that he began playing high school football, earning his eligibility by wearing a baggy sweater and keeping his arms behinds his back so the physician wouldn't notice his gimpy left arm. He won a starting spot by always trying to hit harder and be tougher than any other kid on the team. The kid with the withered left arm was moving up, and you might guess he went on to a nice job in a local car dealership, married his high school sweetheart, and lived happily ever after, with his high school football letter proudly displayed in the family room of his suburban home.

That wouldn't be a half-bad story, but the real one is even better. The kid gave the track team a shot, and one day he threw the hammer. Even if you've never seen the hammer thrown, you might guess that its a two handed event, which it is. As with the shot put, the best in the world are among the most powerful athletes on the face of the earth. If the kid had been a cry-baby, if he'd said to himself, "I'm only a cripple," he'd had never made it this far, but he wasn't one to let his vision be limited by the piles of "I'm only..." baloney. He stuck with the hammer, attacking the event with his characteristic ferocity.

Fast forward a few years to Melbourne, Australia, and the medal ceremonies at the 1956 Olympics. The reporters were yelling at the winner to raise his arms over his head for their victory photos. The man raised his right arm, but even to that day-the day he climbed to the highest level in his sport-he couldn't raise his left arm above his shoulder. Harold Connolly may not have been born with two good arms, but that didn't keep him from winning the gold medal in the hammer throw. It didn't keep him from making the next three Olympic teams, either. If he had succumbed to the "I'm only..." baloney, he'd probably have been a bitter man hiding in some dark corner. Instead, there he was, standing with the Olympic gold medal around his neck and the world at his feet.

The "I'm only..." baloney has a long history. It's been both proffered as a reason for not taking in challenges and, conversely, rejected as so much drivel. For example, in the Old Testament, when Jeremiah was told that he'd been appointed as a prophet, he tried to wiggle out of his mission by saying "I'm only a boy," which netted him the rebuke, "Do not say, I am only a boy." Jeremiah got the message and went on to work.


You might not be Harold Connolly or Jeremiah, but their examples teach us a lesson: Don't sell yourself short; don't ever limit your vision of what you can do; don't ever say, "I'm only..." because that's nothing but baloney.

Winning Ways if chock full of similar stories. Whether your goal is to lose weight, eat healthier, reduce stress, stop smoking, makes no difference. Believe in yourself and you will succeed.