The Process Is the Prize
How I Became the Woman Who Could Squat 300 Pounds
“Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you wish to become.” — James Clear
I failed the first rep. That was the start of it. Not the moment I hit 300. Not even when I hit 295 for four.
It began on the day I unracked 285 pounds, went down for the first rep—and couldn’t stand back up. It would’ve been easy to rack the bar and tell myself, “Not today.” But instead, I paused, breathed, and told myself, you know where the mistake was. Try again.
Two weeks later, I hit 300. But first—I went back under the bar and completed three full sets of five at 285.People see the number. They see the moment. But they don’t see what came before it—or what it means to me.
I’m 5’2” and 132 pounds. So when I say I squatted 300, it’s not just a number—it’s over two times my bodyweight. It’s power packed into a small frame, built over years.
This isn’t just about hitting a milestone in the gym. It’s about becoming the woman who could. The woman who never thought this was possible—who didn’t even have this as a goal until it quietly, methodically became one.
It’s about the slow burn of discipline. The quiet repetition of routine.The power of trusting your process.
Three sets of three at 300 pounds was the goal. I did four reps in the first set and finished strong with back-to-back sets of three as planned, ten reps of confidence.
I didn’t want to post a tweet saying “I squatted 300.” I wanted to tell the story of how I became the version of myself who could.
Because meaning lives in the process—not the result.
“The goal of life is not to be happy—it’s to find meaning. And meaning is usually found in the process, not the outcome.” — Naval Ravikant
Bodybuilding Saved Me
I got into bodybuilding in 2018 for one reason: I was told I might never play golf again. My back was in terrible shape. I was offered surgery, spinal injections, and everything in between. But after hearing Steve Kerr publicly beg others not to make the same surgical decision he did, I went in the opposite direction. I chose to build instead.
I couldn’t even do a bodyweight squat. Stairs were a nightmare. Golf was out of the question. But I started showing up. Slowly. Methodically. I built my glutes, core, and hamstrings. I added mobility. I tracked everything. Sure, I broke in between the build. Tried every recovery method imaginable. But somewhere along the way, the body I was building became a body I loved being in. Not just for how it looked. For how it functioned.
Bodybuilding taught me to slow the f*ck down. To be the turtle instead of the rabbit. Real, lasting change doesn’t happen in months—it takes years.
“Exercise is the most transformative thing you can do for your brain.” – Dr. Wendy Suzuki (NYU Professor of Neural Science and Psychology).
You don’t cut for a trip. You don’t crash diet for a wedding. You build a body you can live in. A body you can maintain. A body you can thrive in.
You don’t hit 300 pounds by skipping steps. You get there by doing the reps nobody sees. That’s why lifting hasn’t just made me stronger—it’s made me sharper.
It’s All the Same Game
I don’t think most people realize this, but bodybuilding, sports betting, and golf all live in the same part of my brain.
Sports betting is essentially pattern recognition and probabilistic thinking. Strength training and skill-based sports (like golf or poker) improve dopamine-regulated systems tied to motivation, reward tracking, and risk analysis.
They are all about timing, self-awareness, routine, discipline, and patience. They all teach you that progress isn’t linear. That some days, you maintain. Other days, you grow. And sometimes—despite everything—you regress. But you keep going. You don’t quit the gym after one bad lift. You don’t bet a parlay to make up for one losing wager. You don’t throw your clubs after one bad hole.
There is no shortcut—in lifting or in life. And you keep going because the brain operates on two systems: fast (intuition) and slow (logic), as explained in Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman. Strength training sharpens both.
You’re literally training the brain to process decisions faster and with greater clarity. That thing that they say, “trust the process.” Yeah, it’s real.
My Betting Brain Was Built in the Gym
The way I approach sports betting? It mirrors my lifting process.
There’s structure. Intent. Routine.
I warm up with research. I follow a framework. I don’t guess—I measure. I don’t bet parlays hoping to get rich. I make selective, deliberate decisions that align with my instincts and data.
I don’t even run betting models. I run my mind. Pen, paper, and preparation.
The same way I weigh my food to the gram, I weigh my wagers.
The same way I track my squats in the HEVY app, I track my bets in a spreadsheet pinned to X.
The same way I train different body parts, I analyze which parts of my betting game are strongest—spreads, props, underdogs—and focus there. I don’t throw money at categories where I consistently lose. I adapt. I evolve.
Just like I’ve done in the gym.
Golf Is the Reason I Lift
People think bodybuilding is my main sport. But the truth is, golf is my first love. And I lift so that I can play more golf, for longer.
Because of bodybuilding, I can hit a driver farther now than I ever could in my 20s. Because of mobility work, I’m pain-free on the course. Because of poker—another game that’s taught me emotional regulation—I no longer fear the first tee shot in front of a crowd.
Bodybuilding teaches emotional regulation, delaying gratification (e.g. cutting, prep, building through plateaus). That same regulation is what stops tilt in poker and betting—what prevents panic, chase betting, and irrational decision-making.
You train your mind when you train your body. Literally.
Golf is my joy. Betting is my puzzle. Lifting is my foundation.
They each feed the other. They all help me understand myself.
Hitting 300 Was Never Just About Strength
It was about trust.
About becoming someone who respects the process, not just the result.
About choosing preparation over ego.
About racking the bar when it’s not the day—and coming back stronger when it is.
I could’ve jumped to 300 the week I hit 295. But I didn’t.
Because I had already made a promise to myself.
Three sets of three. That’s it. And I exceeded that.
And that promise mattered more than the number.
And that’s exactly how I treat betting.
If I don’t love a wager, I don’t place it.
If I feel hesitation, I wait.
If the data, the instinct, and the narrative don’t all align, it’s not time yet.
Because you don’t rush a lift.
You don’t rush a read.
And you don’t shortcut greatness.
You wait for the flow state–where time disappears, the self fades, and action and awareness merge. That’s what I chase. That’s what I live for.
Why I’m Writing This
I’m not a professional bettor. I’m a betting analyst with a sharp handicapper’s mindset who loves the process of prediction.
I’m not a professional golfer. I’m a woman who gets pure joy from playing under the sun, music blasting, bombing shots, and friends beside me.
I’m not a professional bodybuilder. I’m someone who built her way out of pain, one rep at a time.
What I am—what I’ve always been—is obsessed with the process.
The journey. The structure. The puzzle.
I don’t love placing a bet. I love the Monday morning ritual of studying the line. I don’t love competition day. I love the ten months of prep before I ever step on stage.
This was never about the 300-pound squat.
It was about who I had to become in order to lift it.
I didn’t hit 300 pounds because I’m exceptional. I hit 300 pounds because I trained like it mattered. And I bet the same way. I live the same way.
Because the process is the prize.
And I carry that—in every lift, on every course, and in every wager I make.
The weight, the bet? Just the proof I showed up.
If this resonated with you, subscribe for more essays that blend sports, mindset, and the process behind the performance. This is my journey—but maybe it’s yours too.
Thanks for the post and look forward to seeing your content going forward!
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