Building A Champion -- Lily Ewing Has Known The Joy And The Pain Of Competition; She's Pushing Herself To The Limit To Get To The Top In Bodybuilding

What does it take to become a national or international bodybuilding champion?

Lily Ewing wasn't sure.

So earlier this summer the 31-year-old Seattle woman quit her job, developed a "scientific" diet, incorporated a strenuous two-per-day workout in her schedule, lost more than 25 pounds, sacrificed time with her daughter, dismissed naysayers and traveled alone to New Orleans to find out.

There, amid Southern hospitality and the some of the best women bodybuilders in the country - a competitive reality that placed a strain on even the best of New Orleans-style hospitality - she sought the United States Bodybuilding championship.

Ewing finished eighth out of 13 competitors in the women's heavyweight class - not shabby for someone who began her amateur bodybuilding career three years ago. Though she did not qualify as a professional, she got some invaluable bodybuilding lessons, received national exposure, and is now regarded as a top prospect for next year's competition.

"It was the most instructive experience about bodybuilding I've had since I began training a few years ago," Ewing said. "It made me realize that I can reach my goal if I buckle down and reach my potential."

Those who know and train Ewing, who has dominated recent local bodybuilding competitions in her weight class, also believe it.

"She has a deep desire, a love for this sport," said Anthony Aponte, Ewing's trainer and fiance. "And she is very competitive. You see so many weightlifters and bodybuilders, but there are always a few, a select few, that have a certain want and need and no matter what you do to them, as far as training them, there are no boundaries."

Pushing the limits

Just a few short weeks before Ewing's first competition in the United States Bodybuilding Championships, Aponte was pushing her beyond her known limits.

"Let's go, Lily. Let's go," Aponte bellowed.

The exercise at Power House training center in SeaTac was bent-over rows, an exercise that required Ewing to bend over and pull up a barbell with evenly balanced weights on each side.

Ewing had already lifted 180 pounds of six repetitions. Her face was drenched in sweat. She needed to catch her breath, get a sip of water. She walked slowly over to the water cooler.

Aponte believed Ewing could do much more.

"I raised the weight level to 210 pounds," Aponte recalled, "but I didn't tell her."

When Ewing returned, ready for another grueling set of lifts, Aponte told her a story - a story about a young woman in Florida, a young woman who is training hard in a small, squalid basement, with only the most primitive equipment; a woman who has sacrificed the basic pleasures of life, a woman who wants what Ewing wants: to be a bodybuilding champion.

"She's hungry - hungry," Aponte told Ewing. "And she wants to beat you, Lily. She wants to beat you bad. But I know you can beat her. I know it. So c'mon, lift this weight."

Within seconds, Ewing, without a moment of hesitation, picked up the rack and completed 10 repetitions.

Aponte smiled knowingly.

This is the world where Lily Ewing often resides, a world where lifting "just one more set" - a world where "digging deep" and "digging down" and overcoming boundaries - transforms one from amateur to professional, from believing you have the right stuff to actually having the right stuff, from mere wannabe to champion.

Defined muscularity

Lily Ewing is a three-time champion.

Three years she's been bodybuilding, and three years she's won major local bodybuilding competitions. Three years she's sweated under the strain of hundreds of pounds of cold steel and three years she walked away a champion for her efforts.

That's why she raised the stakes and decided to enter the United States Championships; she needed a bigger challenge. In New Orleans, bodybuilders with eight, nine, 10 years of experience converged. It was a competition that could catapult Ewing out of obscurity and into the pro ranks, or leave her wondering whether she ever belonged at all.

Ewing's physique hinted at the former.

Her muscularity is evenly defined and precise. Her triceps rise like mountains even when she's relaxed, and when she flexes, her biceps evolve into muscle-like mountain peaks. Her light brown shoulder-length hair rests on her broad, thick shoulders. Her olive face, anchored by a wide forehead, sharp cheekbones, long curled eyelashes, a pronounced nose, evenly spaced white teeth and small lips, captures the Italian-German-Mexican blood that travels through her veins.

But while blood plays no role in the making of bodybuilders, genes often determine whether bodybuilders become champions or remain amateurs.

Lily Ewing's got good genes.

Her powerful legs and good bone structure mirrors her mother's.

"But my mother never lifted a weight in her life," Ewing says, pride creeping in her voice.

She is less certain about her father's contributions.

That's because two years ago he was sitting at the kitchen table pouring cereal, began eating, then suddenly keeled over, his head landing flush in the cereal bowl.

He died instantly from a bleeding ulcer.

He was 48; Ewing was 28.

They had never met. Her parents divorced when she was an infant.

"I'm sure he would be proud of me," she says.

She is certain her mother and stepfather are proud. Over the years they provided her with much support - even when she tore ligaments in her leg 14 years ago and everyone thought her athletic career was over. The injury cost her a track scholarship to several major universities, including Stanford, Hawaii and the University of Washington. It cost her the opportunity to compete in track. It cost her the opportunity to channel her competitive drive into the sport she loved.

And it took years to find a sport - bodybuilding - that allowed her to redirect her energy.

"I don't take it for granted," she said. "I know what it means to lose something you love; I know what it means to do something you love."

Family in front seat

Though a major part of her life, Ewing is quick to point out bodybuilding - this sport that enables her to redefine her body and mind - is next to nothing when it comes to her family. Her single-minded focus, her desire to become a national and perhaps even international bodybuilding champion, takes a back seat when they call.

On some days, she finds herself standing in front of her mother's elementary classroom, posing for students who find her physique fascinating.

A little girl might yell out: "Oooooooh.

A little boy might pretend he, too, has the makings of a bodybuilding champion and flex his tiny arms until he's too tired to continue.

Ewing also spends a lot of time sharing her experiences and insights with Erika, her 8-year-old daughter.

"I have a fire inside of me, " Ewing said. "But my daughter and I have a wonderful relationship and I would never put my bodybuilding competitions before her."

They take long walks, visit museums, shop, watch movies, reflect on their relationship, hug, squeeze, play and cuddle.

Conflict and conquest

This devotion to family and to her daughter was not born out of sentimentality; it was nurtured in the bosom of conflict and conquest - conflict she wished she could've avoided, conquest she could not have foreseen.

Conflict:

Ewing was not always close to her mother. Their relationship was not always harmonious. When she wanted to hear her mother's soothing voice, silence filled the void; when she wanted to listen to her mother's songs - songs of support, concern, insight and love - dissonance and discord pervaded the space around them.

"We had our differences in the past," Ewing said. "But we've overcome them and now appreciate each other's unique perspectives about life and what is possible in life."

Conquest:

The same legs that now propel Ewing toward the loftiest standards of her sport - a sport that covets strength and endurance - were once a torn and tangled mess.

Twice she received reconstructive surgery to repair ripped tendons in her right knee; twice she recovered.

It was never easy.

Sometimes it was traumatic.

Ewing recalls lunging to her left, four summers ago, slamming the tennis ball across the net where her friend, an accomplished player, returned the favor.

They volleyed for several minutes.

She'd swat it back over the net; he'd smack it back across . . . first in this corner, then in the other, deliberately keeping her on the run.

This was what Lily Ewing loved - athletic competition.

She thought: "I'm going to get to those balls no matter what. I know he's testing me - testing me to see if I can get to those balls. And I'm going to get to all of them."

Her legs, muscular and strong from years of strenuous training, rocketed her across the tennis court at Green Lake.

She loved competition.

She loved it at Sand Point Elementary, where she ran track. She loved it at Roosevelt High School, where she was a gymnast and Metro League 1980-81 regional champion in the 300 meter hurdles and the long jump.

And she loved it now.

"Backhand, Backhand!" she thought. "Prepare for the backhand!"

At the last and, she believed, correct moment, she lunged sideways with all of her might. That's when she heard the pop, a sound that rang out like the sound of a breaking branch.

She swung, weakly, at the ball as it rushed by.

Then she crumpled onto the tennis court in pain.

Later she learned she'd ripped several ligaments in her right knee, the same knee she had major surgery on a decade before.

Ewing seriously wondered whether she'd ever be able to compete in any sport again, even as an amateur.

It was during her rehabilitation period, after the second surgery, that she slowly gravitated to bodybuilding. She'd watch the women and men bodybuilders training only a few feet away and wonder how she'd look muscled and toned.

"I thought, `I can look like that.' "

So she rushed over to a bodybuilding trainer one day, and gushed: "I want to become a bodybuilder. Do with me what you will."

Now, four years later at age 30, she uses her once ruptured knee to squat hundreds of pounds.

And she believes she will someday compete in Ms. Olympia - the most prestigious bodybuilding competition on the planet.

So what does it take to become a national or international champion?

"I'm sure it must take hard work, dedication, endurance and commitment," Ewing said. "But I really don't know. So I'll keep working at it until I find out."