The beginning of summer 2011, I began my fitness journey, weighing 208lbs.

I hired an encouraging trainer when my daughter was roughly about 15 months old. Her eccentric personality and exciting bikini competitions kept me motivated. I wanted to accomplish what she had accomplished. I followed her strict food and exercise regimen by severing all my ties with my beloved foods. I began taking supplements that I did not understand. I couldn’t tell you why or even what I was taking. All I know is Ali told me to take them and if I wanted to look like Ali then it was vital for me to follow her program to the exact tee. Ali was wonderful, I dropped weight, and I continued this journey even after I ended my training program with her. However, I still needed to look like Ali and compete. I continued to just repeat the original program she had written for me, never allowing myself to cheat and never allowing myself to rest. I was down to 135 for 208 and to me I was still not skinny, I was still fat no matter what anyone said.

Shortly after I hit my goal weight I decided to become a personal trainer. I studied the key points of my NASM study guide, I watched all my lectures, and outlined my whole book, but I really wasn’t listening to what I was learning. I studied just enough to pass my test, earn that certification to become a NASM personal trainer. Soon after I became a trainer I was hired on at American Family fitness. I learned one of my coworkers competed in bodybuilding and I just needed to train with him so I could compete as Ali did. I strived to look like her, not taking into account that I had children and she did not or that our body types were very different. I just wasn’t paying attention to anything I had learned over the past year. I hired Salby to walk me through my competition prep.

During my competition prep I remember spending countless extra hours in the gym, even though my work day was over. I would stay to practice posing, complete slow paced cardio, or to lift just a little extra; anything to get me there faster. The competition began to run every aspect of my life. Members of the gym started to pat me on the back and set my accomplishments on a pedestal, because they began to notice the change. It however was not enough, I wanted more. To them I was committed and they were so proud, but what they didn’t see was just how unhealthy I had become!

EditIn the midst of competition prep my relationship with food became even darker. As I prepped many things were cut from my diet. My cravings became more than I could handle. I craved sugar, sodium, and many other nutrients because my body was lacking in so much. In secret I would binge on multiple candy bars in one sitting or eat a whole box of sugar cookies and then drink a recovery shake to be healthy.
I began suffering from amenorrhea (an abnormal absence of menstruation) from the countless hours of extra cardio and workouts, that I did not fuel my body properly for. I became easily aggravated and impatient with my loved ones (who were originally my inspiration). My health began to suffer and my relationships followed.

 Because I spent so many hours in the gym my children were often in the care of babysitters, instead of much needed time with me. Never wanted to be the mom who put myself above my family, but I was slowly becoming that. I am so blessed that they loved me through it. My poor husband saw a selfish woman replace his wife. I treated my beloved family as if I was more important. When I first became a trainer my client’s programs always came before mine. I would research their questions and medical conditions. From there I would design a program meant especially for them. I worked hand in hand with their health providers to ensure they had the best program designed just for them.  As I got further into my competition prep I became the very trainer I loathed; a cookie cutter trainer! I started giving everyone the same workout even if it wasn’t what they needed, I came unprepared to training sessions and my clients began to notice the change and my relationships with them were hindered. The moment I started to put my training above them was the moment I lost their trust. I became so consumed I didn’t care and I was acting as if I was better than them. I never treated anyone that way before and in fact it bothered me when I would see a trainer treat their clients this way. I went my whole prep blinded and harming those nearest and dearest to me.

Now nearly 6 years into my fitness journey I can finally look back and see exactly how
unhealthy I was both mentally and physically. I have 4 beautiful children who I spend every waking moment, with including my workouts. There is not a day goes by that I wish I could’ve changed that brief period of time that I missed out. I feel healthier now at 150lbs than I ever was at 120lbs.  It is my goal now as a fitness and wellness professional to help women create realistic/manageable goals while maintaining a healthy mind and body. As a wellness coach and fitness professional I have familiarized myself with the signs of eating disorders so I may refer my clients to receive the help they need. I will help my clients to lead a healthy life in all aspects not just looking “fit”, because fit doesn’t necessarily mean healthy.

It is so very important that we do not try to compare our selves to others! When we compare ourselves to someone else or set goals to be like someone else we are creating an uphill battle that we will not win. My goal is to teach my children self love and self respect at all stages. I want my daughter to know that being healthy on the inside is more important than being “fit” on the outside. I am thankful for that struggle and I am even more thankful that my eyes were open to just how unhealthy I was.

                           ~Mickey

When I came to they were cutting my clothes, slashing my favorite pair of shoes off, shoving tubes down my throat, and sticking needles in my arms. It faded black again and I was gone.  Once again I woke up in a strange place. Blinding lights were overhead and they were sliding me on a silver slab, my bare back was chilled and my body was limp. No matter how hard I tried to move my body laid still. No matter what I said they couldn’t hear. I remember feeling terrified. It was a terrible nightmare, infact the worst kind, the kind you can’t wake up from. I woke up thrashing about trying to pull my leg from the traction pullies and I ripped the pin in my knee holding my leg up.

When I finally fully came too it was almost Thanksgiving Day. The hospital room filled with people for support.  Cards from everyone in my school and letters from close friends.  My mom looked at me with such a heavy heart.  It was her that had to explain what happened,  it was her that had to relay the message that I would never be the same. Doctors around the clock and nurses too. I remember saying to a nurse as she tried to help me go to the restroom “I’m 14 I don’t need your help, I can walk.” And as I tried to take a step I fell to the ground. It was then I realized that I was broken. My mom helped me up and we both wept. 

The thing you have to understand about me is even at 14, my world was outdoors. Everything I did was outside. I ran the woods with my friends, rode my bike on dirt tracks we built every summer, I lived and breathed tomboy. I was a wild one and I was proud of it.  I would chant to the boys “Anything you can do I can do better.” if I couldn’t, I would not give up until I could.  

 Until the crisp fall night that a drunk driver threw a wrench into my life. My whole school year was put on hold as I was in rehab. I had suffered a brain injury, multiple broken/ fractured ribs, my femur broken, a lacerated spleen, and I was in a coma state for 2 weeks.  Not only was my leg broken and I needed rehab to walk I also needed rehab to help me talk right again.  My brain was jumbled and I couldn’t process simple words. I was starting all over.  

Doctors told my mom it would be a while before I would be able to play sports again and even longer for me to ride BMX again.  So much “she won’t,  she can’t, she shouldn’t” I was discouraged.

They released me the 2nd week of December. Much sooner than anticipated,  but I would continue home therapy, I would be in a wheel chair, and I was not allowed to start school again until doctors released me to walk down the halls. They had a fear that if I was bumped wrong I would crumble like the great Achilles.

My first weekend away from my parents I went to my friend Hazel’s house for the weekend. I walked couple miles accrossed the snow and ice on  my crutches to see another of my closest friend, Bubba and his family. I was tired of being cooped up in the house. The cold hurt my leg. I shivered uncontrollably both from cold and pain, but I needed to be outside. I NEEDED to ride a bike, go fishing, and walk through the woods. I was determined that when summer came I would be myself again. I continued my therapy and I contiued to push.

When summer came, I felt like I was recovered, but The first time I went to ride a bike it was excruciating. I failed, I wasn’t myself. The pain was strong, but I was stronger. I fell only to get back up.  I cried only to push through. When the physical therapist told me he had cancer and we could fight together, the rage in me to be stronger grew like a wild fire.  He lost his hair, but contiued to push me.  He said to me ” The cancer doesn’t own me, it never will. You’re an extremly strong young lady, don’t let this own you. Fight”. 

Fight is exactly what I did. I fought to enjoy the things I did before. I pushed to be better than I was before. Freshman year came, I was still in therapy 3 days a week. I struggled in school because much of my 8th grade year I spent in a hosptial bed. 

 Freshman year I was angry and confused.  So I would stay home from school to sneak outside when mom left.  Breath the fresh air, climb on my bike, and just ride.  I had not been released to ride my bike yet. My femur had not completely healed and one wrong fall I could rebrake it. I knew better, if I could just get outside and back on my bike, I would heal. My broken spirit would come back to life. So I skipped school to walk in the woods, ride on the trails, and listen to the sound of my tires hitting the ground.  

Sophomore year the rods were finally removed, so once again they put me on restriction. And once again I pushed and I didn’t listen to them. I was strong willed. The words “Dont let it own you” repeated in my head like a box of firecrackers.

Shortly after sophomore year I heard that the cancer had taken Brads life. He fought with me and he pushed me, and he was on my side. I know he was saying all the way to the end “You don’t own me” Brad had his own battle,  but that didn’t mean he’d give up in mine. Brad pushed me to say “YOU DON’T OWN ME”.

In loving memory of Brad, thank you for not giving up on me and teaching me that nothing owns us unless we let it.  ❤Mickey