I weighed 130kg. I had torn my ACL three times — left knee twice, right knee once. I also fractured my scaphoid. I was the guy in the room who everyone assumed had already given up on himself. And in some ways, they were right. The version of me that existed back then had no framework, no purpose, and no story worth telling.

But that is exactly where every hero's journey begins — not at the finish line, not after the transformation, but in the deepest, darkest part of the ordinary world. The moment before the call.

What I want to share with you is not a motivational speech. It is a map. A map I wish someone had handed me before I started. Because prep — whether you are preparing for a competition, a body transformation, or simply the best version of yourself — is not a physical journey. It is a psychological one first.

The Ordinary World: Where Most People Stay Forever

My first competition stage is coming next year. And the road to get here has been anything but straight. I lived in the ordinary world for a long time. I knew I was capable of more. I had glimpses of what discipline could do for me. But I kept returning to comfort, to excuses, to the version of myself that felt safe.

Most people who tell me they want to compete, or transform, or change — they are stuck here too. Not because they lack talent. Not because they lack genetics. But because they have never made the decision to leave.

The ordinary world is comfortable. It never asks anything of you. And that is exactly what makes it dangerous.

The Call to Adventure: The Moment You Decide

My call came in different forms. A doctor's warning. A photo I could not look at. A quiet moment where I asked myself: if not now, when? Maybe yours comes from a competition you watched. A physique that inspired you. A rock bottom you refuse to stay in.

The call is not the transformation itself. The call is simply the recognition that you are meant for something harder, and therefore something greater.

Every athlete I have ever coached has had this moment. Not all of them answered it. The ones who did were not necessarily the most gifted. They were the ones willing to be uncomfortable for long enough to change.

Crossing the Threshold: What Commitment Actually Looks Like

After three ACL surgeries and a scaphoid fracture in my wrist, I crossed a threshold that most people in my position never cross. I chose to compete. Natural bodybuilding. On a stage. Under lights. In a country where that path has no blueprint.

Crossing the threshold means you stop negotiating with yourself. You stop saying, "I'll start Monday" or "I'll be more serious after the holidays." You burn the return ticket. The version of you that lived in the ordinary world no longer has a seat at the table.

This is where prep really begins. Not on the first day you weigh your food. Not on the first morning you wake up at 5am. It begins the moment the decision becomes irreversible in your mind.

The Trials: Embracing What Prep Will Cost You

Prep is trials. Full stop. It will cost you social events, spontaneous meals, late nights, energy, and at times your patience with everyone around you. The people who tell you prep is easy are either not doing it properly or not being honest with you.

But here is what I learned from my own journey — from 130kg, through surgeries, through the lowest points: the trials are not the enemy. They are the curriculum. Every skipped meal that you track anyway, every session you complete on four hours of sleep, every time you choose discipline over desire — that is you rewriting the story.

The mindset shift is this: stop trying to avoid the hard parts. Start collecting them. Every hard rep, every hard day, every hard choice is evidence that you are becoming someone different. Someone who can do hard things.

The Low Days: Work Around It, Not Against It

Nobody talks about the low days honestly. Not the ones where you are tired from the moment you wake up. Not the ones where the weights feel heavier than they should, your mood is flat, and your daily calories are so low you could cry into your salad leaves — except that would burn too many calories. Your pre-workout is hope. Your post-workout meal fits in a shot glass. Suck it up, buttercup. There is no Mickey Mouse behaviour allowed here. These days are not a sign that something is wrong. They are part of the system.

One of the most important shifts I made in my own journey was stopping the war against the low days. I used to fight them with complaints, excuses, and by being easily rage-baited. That approach does not build champions. I would know.

The better approach is this: when a low day arrives, you do not complain about it and you do not surrender to it. You work around it. You ask: what can I do today given where I am right now? Maybe the session changes. Maybe the intensity drops. Maybe you focus on sleep and recovery. But you keep moving. You keep finding the next solution. When you ride a bicycle, you have to keep moving. Slowing down or stopping will cause you to fall down.

The athlete who understands that low days are built into the process never loses momentum — because they never expected every day to be a peak. They planned for the valleys. They navigate them with discipline instead of frustration. That is not weakness. That is elite-level self-management.

The Ordeal: The Darkest Point in Every Prep

There is always a point in prep — usually around the halfway mark — where the initial excitement is gone and the finish line is still not visible. Energy is lower. Progress seems to stall. Doubt shows up daily.

This is the ordeal. In storytelling, it is the moment the hero faces death — literal or symbolic. In prep, it is the moment your identity is being tested. The old version of you wants back in. It whispers that this is too much, that you were fine before, that no one is watching anyway.

I have been through this ordeal with my own body and alongside my clients. The athletes who make it through are not the ones with the best genetics. They are the ones who had decided, before the ordeal arrived, that they would not quit during it. Decide that now. Before you need it.

The Return: Who You Become Is the Real Prize

I am targeting a world-level natural bodybuilding show in 2027. That goal lives on a wall in my mind every single day. But I have learned — and this took years — that the stage is not the real prize.

The real prize is the person you become by committing fully to something that demands everything from you. The discipline, the identity, the standards you install in yourself through a proper prep — those do not go away when the show is over. They become the foundation of every other thing you build.

That is the hero's return. Not a trophy. Not a transformation photo. But a version of yourself that operates at a level the person you were before could not have imagined.

I went from 130kg, three ACL surgeries, a fractured scaphoid, and zero clarity — to coaching athletes, building a performance club, and standing on the edge of my first natural bodybuilding stage. The journey is not linear. But it is always worth it.

Start the Journey

If you are reading this and you are still in the ordinary world — that is okay. But I want to challenge you to hear the call. Not the call to have a perfect body. The call to become someone who no longer recognizes the version of themselves that stayed comfortable.

Prep is a hero's journey. And every hero's journey starts with one decision.

Make yours today.

— Elie Ghanem ISSA Certified | Natural Bodybuilder | Founder, Elie Ghanem Fitness