The sword, the Stairmaster and the sweet spot of discipline: Courtney Carroll’s bodybuilding odyssey

It’s 3.30am and she’s in the gym.

Not just because she wants to be, but because there’s no other way.

This is what preparation looks like when you’re 23 years old and chasing down a dream stitched together with macros, muscle fibres and unwavering mental grit.

Carroll, a barista by day at Stellar Coffee, has become one of Shepparton’s most determined figures — and not just because she recently returned home from a whirlwind season on the national bodybuilding stage with a collection of medals, titles and a crown to her name.

“I got two third places at nationals which I’m pretty stoked about,” she says.

“Finally wrapped up the season and now into the swing of the off-season and recovery.”

For the uninitiated, bodybuilding can seem almost mythic in its demands: an aesthetic pursuit sculpted in iron and sacrifice.

She doesn’t just lift weights — she lifts expectations and the body is only one of the things she’s shaping.

The 2025 season was a stretch of grit and redemption, spanning two federations and three major competitions in a little more than four weeks.

Carroll competed in the NBA (National Bodybuilding Australia) first up, placing first in two of her divisions and claiming second overall.

Next stop: Queensland, for the ICN (I Compete Natural) Brisbane Classic.

There, like Excalibur, she unsheathed a sword — a literal one, the kind handed out to the overall champion in the wellness category.

“I went there for redemption and came out on top,” she said, still waiting for the blade to be shipped home.

It’s unclear where in Shepparton one stores a sword, but then again, Carroll rarely does things conventionally.

In the week following the ICN Brisbane Classic, she was back in Shepparton for two days before jetting to Sydney for the NBA Oceania Pro/Am Nationals, placing third in each of her categories to wrap up the season in a neat little bow.

Her prep began in November, a seasonal commitment that few outside the sport truly grasp.

“Not one day did I have a cheat on my diet,” she said.

“No matter if I had events on the weekends or breakfast dates out with friends and family, I would take my meal prep to the restaurants, freeze my foods, take it in cooler bags, all that kind of stuff.”

Carroll’s absurd dedication didn’t stop with clean eating — that was only half the equation.

Cardio before day break, followed by an eight-hour shift at work, then the gym, rounded out by an often hour-long walk.

“Some days I didn’t feel like doing it, but I made sure I showed up,” she said.

Carroll sounds like someone who has long since made peace with discomfort. It’s part of the architecture of transformation.

But it’s not a solo pursuit, even when it feels like one.

“It’s a bit of a selfish sport where you kind of isolate yourself towards the end,” she said.

Sleep, hormones, social calendars: all collateral damage.

Yet somehow, the more she narrowed her focus, the more expansive her support network became.

The gym didn’t just give her a body she was proud of; it gave her a future.

Carroll started training in earnest during COVID-19, finding an online coach — Abs By Alana, a pro bodybuilder — who unlocked something deeper than just the mechanics of lifting.

“Starting in COVID was where it really sparked; not loving my body, not loving myself mentally,” Carroll said.

“I decided to put the question to her, asking her if I could compete, and she gave me the boxes I had to tick.”

Carroll ticked every box.

She earned placings in 2023, then devoted her off-season to muscle growth and performance improvements.

By 2024, she returned not as a rookie, but a contender.

“It’s all about embracing the journey and pushing yourself to new limits,” she said.

Yet even warriors need pay cheques.

Five days a week, she’s back behind the counter at Stella Coffee, where temptation comes in the form of croissants and creamy lattes.

“Trying to juggle that, working in a cafe — a food shop — was pretty challenging,” she said.

“Being faced with all the sweets and the toasties and only drinking black coffee was pretty tough, but at the end of the day, I knew I had a goal.”

Her fuel: black coffee and resolve.

Her reward: the quiet applause of customers who knew what she was chasing.

“My boss put a post up on the Instagram page congratulating me and I had a lot of the regulars all congratulate me for my hard work,” she said.

The medals now hang in the café, a kind of shrine to perseverance.

What’s next is, in some ways, more complicated than the season itself.

The recovery phase — rebalancing hormones, easing off obsessive tracking, reintegrating normalcy — demands a softer, but no less focused kind of discipline.

For now, her achievements shimmer under stage lights, sure.

But they’re also tucked inside Tupperware containers and wee-hour alarms, inside every “no thanks” to a dessert, inside every yes to herself.

Carroll has received unwavering support from her mother and sisters and the camaraderie of the sport — the group chats, the backstage pep talks, the shared sacrifices — has made every step, curl and crunch worth it.

“You meet a whole heap of people online who form group chats and, when it gets to the show days, you’re all like a little family because you’ve all been going through the same process,” he said.

“I’ve made so many friends through this journey which has been incredible.

“Also a big thank you to my mum and my sisters for supporting me and being really proud of the hard work I’ve put in.”