OUTSIDERS BLOG
What Competing in My First Men’s Physique Show Taught Me
A few days ago, I stepped on stage for my first men’s physique bodybuilding competition.
Even writing that still feels surreal.
For months, my life revolved around early mornings, training sessions, cardio, posing practice, meal prep, discipline, sacrifice, and a level of consistency I honestly didn’t know I was capable of maintaining for that long.
And now that it’s over, people keep asking me the same question:
“Was it worth it?”
Absolutely.
Not because of a trophy.
Not because of how lean I got.
Not because of a stage photo.
It was worth it because of who I had to become throughout the process.
I think a lot of people saw the physical transformation from the outside. The visible abs. The weight loss. The discipline. The meals. The workouts.
But what most people didn’t see was what happened mentally.
This journey challenged me in ways I never expected.
As someone who has spent years coaching others, leading a community at Outsiders CrossFit, and preaching discipline, I thought I understood hard work.
This was different.
Bodybuilding has a way of exposing everything.
Your patience.
Your discipline.
Your excuses.
Your habits.
Your mindset.
Your ability to keep going when motivation disappears.
Because eventually, motivation does disappear.
There were days I was exhausted.
Days I was hungry.
Days I didn’t want to do cardio.
Days I didn’t want to train.
Days I questioned why I signed up in the first place.
But every single day, I had a choice:
Do the work anyway or don’t.
And that’s where growth happens.
One of the biggest lessons this prep taught me is that discipline is far more powerful than motivation will ever be.
Motivation is emotional.
Discipline is dependable.
Motivation comes and goes depending on how you feel.
Discipline carries you when feelings are no longer enough.
I think that lesson applies to almost everything in life.
Marriage.
Parenthood.
Fitness.
Business.
Leadership.
Personal growth.
The people who change their lives are rarely the people who always feel motivated.
They’re the people who continue showing up after the excitement fades.
Another thing this journey taught me is how much we’re capable of when we stop negotiating with ourselves.
Most of us quit long before we actually reach our limits.
We convince ourselves we’re tired.
We tell ourselves tomorrow is fine.
We lower standards when things become inconvenient.
This prep forced me to stop doing that.
Not because I’m special.
Not because I’m tougher than everyone else.
But because I committed to seeing what would happen if I fully followed through.
That became addicting.
Not the suffering.
Not the diet.
Not the cardio.
The self-respect that comes from keeping promises to yourself.
That changes you.
There’s confidence that comes from aesthetics, and then there’s confidence that comes from proving to yourself that you can do hard things consistently for months.
The second one matters far more.
Ironically, this journey also gave me an even deeper appreciation for balance.
Toward the end of prep, life becomes very rigid. Meals are measured. Social events become difficult. Energy gets lower. Recovery becomes harder. Your world narrows for a period of time.
And while I’m proud of what I accomplished physically, this experience reminded me that fitness should ultimately improve your life — not consume it completely forever.
There’s a season for pushing hard.
There’s a season for growth.
There’s a season for extreme focus.
But long term, health, relationships, family, and purpose still matter most.
That perspective became really important to me throughout this process.
I also gained a completely new level of respect for anyone who commits themselves fully to a goal.
Not just in bodybuilding.
In anything.
Because it’s easy to talk about goals when motivation is high.
It’s much harder to keep going quietly for months when nobody sees the work.
That’s where real transformation happens.
Not on stage.
Not in the spotlight.
Not in the photos.
It happens in the invisible moments.
The early alarms.
The meal prep.
The cardio nobody applauds.
The workouts when you’re tired.
The choices nobody would know if you skipped.
That’s where character gets built.
And honestly, I think that’s why this experience resonated with so many people around me.
It was never really about bodybuilding.
It was about commitment.
People are inspired when they watch someone fully commit to becoming better.
Not perfect.
Better.
Throughout this prep, I had so many conversations with members inside the gym who would say things like:
“I could never do that.”
Truthfully, I don’t believe that.
I think most people are capable of far more than they realize.
What they lack isn’t ability.
It’s belief.
They’ve spent so much time doubting themselves that they never fully test what they’re capable of becoming.
This prep reminded me that growth almost always lives on the other side of discomfort.
The hard conversations.
The difficult workouts.
The sacrifices.
The uncertainty.
The consistency.
That’s where transformation happens.
Not just physically.
Mentally too.
A few days removed from stepping on stage, I can confidently say this experience changed me for the better.
Not because I became a bodybuilder.
But because I became more disciplined.
More intentional.
More self-aware.
More grateful.
And more confident in my ability to follow through on difficult things.
And if there’s one thing I hope our community takes away from this journey, it’s this:
You do not need to become a bodybuilder to change your life.
But you do need to stop underestimating yourself.
Maybe your stage looks different than mine.
Maybe it’s prioritizing your health.
Maybe it’s losing weight.
Maybe it’s repairing your marriage.
Maybe it’s starting over.
Maybe it’s chasing a dream you’ve been putting off for years.
Maybe it’s finally believing you’re capable of more.
Whatever it is, commit fully.
Not because the outcome is guaranteed.
But because the process will change you regardless.
A few days ago, I stepped on stage for the first time.
But the greatest transformation happened long before I ever walked under those lights.
