Boot Camp

The alarm goes off at 4am on Monday morning and I ask myself yet again, "What foreign and strange demon possessed me to sign up for bootcamp?" Then I remember....a McDonalds drive-thru waiter-person. What do they call those people anyway? I'm drawing a blank. But I digress. I picked up McDonalds for the kids on our way home one night, and didn't even order myself anything might I add. I hand the lady at the window my money, when she gives me my change, she asks me "When are you due?" Due? DUE? Are you freaking kidding me? I blankly stare at her for what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds while I tried to process what she was asking me. My brain computes. My brain is horrified. I wanted to reach thru the window and $@*!#-slap her into next week! However, my kids were in the car, and I do try to occasionally be the model of propriety. So, I smile through gritted teeth and say "ummm no, I just had a baby". She makes a cooing noise and attempts to look in the backseat of the mini. I can't tell you what she was thinking, but I'll tell you what she saw. She saw 3 teenagers and a 3 year old, no infants. I saw her look. I saw her confusion. I baldly looked her in the eye and dared her to say another stinkin' word. She wisely kept her mouth shut and just handed me my food.

So, I ran out and joined bootcamp. Well, not quite, but almost. It would take one more humiliating incident to convince me drastic measures were necessary. What might that be you ask?

I was congratulated at work. Did I get a promotion? No. Did I do something pulitzer worthy? No. Did I achieve a major career milestone? No. In puzzlement, I ask this co-worker. "For what?". He looks at my stomach. Oh no, he didn't! I gasp loudly and amid uncomfortable laughter by other staff members, I not so gently inform him that I am most certainly not pregnant and instead of apologizing he goes on justify his stupidity by blaming my outfit!

I might have been able to handle and even laugh about the first incident, but after the second one, I knew drastic measures were necessary. Enter bootcamp.

A five week circuit training nightmare that begins at 5am on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I am currently in the middle of week 4. What's even more amazing is that I actually paid for the hellatious privilege of having my butt kicked around for an hour.

Week 1: I'm overjoyed that I'm not the fatest person there. I survived, but my quality of life was diminished by the fact that I couldn't even get off the toilet without grasping onto doors and walls for support. The pain and agony in all my muscles was that intense. I hurt in places I didn't even know existed. It was a tad bit humbling to realize that my "fast" was everyone else's "slow", and even the girls bigger than me, were lapping me. My humiliation is now complete, I have nothing left to lose. Oh wait, I had to be weighed and measured and it's out in the open. On the bright side, I don't think anyone noticed. On the even more embarrassing side, she measured my calfs and I hadn't shaved my legs in......well, let's just say it had been awhile. Will the humiliation ever end?

Week 2: Situps. Let's discuss. I love it when she says, "all the way up, use your thighs if you have to." Ummm okay. Do something for me will you? Put an extra large rolled up wet towel on your belly and then try to do full situps. You know what? You can't! That big roll between my chest and thighs prohibits my movement, and besides, I thought crunches were better for you! See that red-faced girl grabbing her thighs while doing the rocking momentum move before finally hoisting herself up into the situp position? Yep, that's me.

Week 3: Okay I'm finally used to starving and getting up early to exercise. But my feet are still killing me. Oh it must be my shoes right. Go buy a $100 pair from Luke's Locker and then running and squats will be a breeze right? WRONG! My feet still hurt, and you want to know my theory on this? Because I'm fat. I've got xxx amount of pounds resting on my poor flattened smashed out feet, and you're telling me to run. Of course my feet hurt!!!!

Week 4: Light at the end of the tunnel. I'm down 15lbs and while I won't say it's gotten any easier, I do feel pretty good. My least favorite exercises this week. The curtsy and the dog hydrant. I mean seriously? Any exercise that comes with a litany of rules and posture do's and dont's is probably not the exercise for someone like me. I'm uncoordinated on the best of days, now you put my tired, worn out, fat body and tell it to curtsy while keeping my knee at a 90 degree angle, while my back knee should be touching the ground but to the side of me, but don't twist the front knee, and don't overextend the knee. And then once I get down there, I have to get up again and repeat all while maintaining a straight back!?!?!?!? Then there is the dog hydrant. Is there anything more undignified than sitting on all fours and lifting your leg to the side like you're going to pee on your neighbor as cars drive by? Enough said.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I regret doing it. It's been life-changing, but you have to be willing to check your pride at the door. The good news is that she generally takes pity on me, and leaves me alone. I worked very hard to ensure she didn't learn my name. I tried my best to fade into anonymity. I'm still waiting for the endorphins and the love of exercise (although I'm fairly convinced these are urban legends), but it does leave me wondering how I will challenge myself next.