Tone your legs

This blond dynamo came seemingly out of thin air and captured the hearts of judges and the public alike when she won her first pro fitness contest in July 1998. Not too shabby for a real-estate agent who decided to follow her dream and began making her way up through the competition ranks just a year earlier. Now, further stepping up her "Q" factor, Mary Yockey has become the sweetheart of fitness after a spectacular performance - and a well-deserved win - at the Fitness Olympia contest held in October, 1999 in Las Vegas.

Clearly poised to become an industry icon, Mary exceeded standards previously set by fitness greats like Carol Semple-Marzetta and Monica Brant with her inimitable physique and gravity-defying performance routine. What she brought to the stage that memorable night served as an indication of the direction fitness is headed. The message is clear: Bigger isn't always better, and hardness and depletion don't have to rival that of competitive bodybuilders. And that makes Mary very happy indeed.

"The way I came in is what I perceive fitness to be. It seems that before, [the judges] wanted us to be more muscular, and that's the way women's bodybuilding went. I've always said I'd come into a competition the way I feel comfortable. I'm very happy the judges are keeping fitness where it needs to be."

Somewhat of a paradox, at first glance Mary appears to be, well, sort of like the girl next door. Yet a closer look showcases her dazzling smile, bright eyes and a body from Venus - the kind of looks that demand attention. Perhaps she's even the type of woman other women love to hate. But when you talk to her, the minute she speaks, you realize that you can't do anything but like her. Genuine and down to earth, Mary's open to discussion on topics that range from her spirituality to who she thought was her toughest competition that night in Las Vegas.

She's got it, yeah, baby she's got it
I first walked in on Mary as she was sitting quietly in the makeup chair at the gym (in preparation for the accompanying photos). I barely recognized her: Her hair was straight - not the delicate mass of curls she used to wear - her face freshly scrubbed, and she seemed so diminutive under her sweat jacket. But 45 minutes later, when she stepped into the natural light of the weight room sans warm-up suit, the aura that surrounded her was electrifying. "I'm not in contest shape," she had warned me. "I guess I'm okay for the average Joe."