Boot Camp is Hard.

About a month ago, my friend "Fanny" and I were simultaneously checking the day's Groupon from our neighboring cubicles. (If you don't know what Groupon is, you are missing out!) That day we found 8 Boot Camp sessions for the low, low price of $36. Hey, let's do it! I had no idea what I was getting into. I did some research (read: Googled) Boot Camp workouts and they looked hard but a quick way to burn a lotta calories. Sign me up. We both registered and last night was our first Boot Camp workout.

Yesterday's high temp was 91 degrees. Boot Camp workouts are all outside. Downtown. In the city. On the concrete. To say it was hot would be a gross understatement. It was a scorcher. We met the rest of the suckers at our designated torture site for the evening, water bottles and towels in hand. Fanny and I arrived about 7 minutes before class time, so that left us 420 agonizing seconds to stand around in the sun and the heat, sweating up a storm, partly from the heat but mostly from anxiety. I wanted to ask everyone "So, did you sign up just because it was cheap on Groupon?" but I restrained myself. We weren't exactly sure what was going to happen to us over the next hour. I don't think either of us spoke in those minutes before class. Fanny is quite a bit younger than me, and in much better shape. She did the mini-marathon this year and works out regularly with P90X. She had nothing to be worried about. I on the other hand, was ill-prepared.

Finally it was time to begin, and we were introduced to the 3 trainers that would be working us out. 2 perky young ladies and one guy. They seemed nice enough, they were fit and trim, but not big muscle heads and they weren't yelling at us or anything. I started to relax a little.

First up on the agenda: warm up jog. Once around the block, trainer leading the way. Not bad. Hey, I can handle this! Sweating is a good thing, looks at those calories go!

Next: calisthenics. A nice, gut wrenching, heart pumping sequence of 30 jumping jacks, 30 knee highs, 30 of those things I can't remember where you're kicking your feet back like you're kicking yourself in the butt, and 20 squats. Once that sequence was done-- start over! Get through it that time and, guess what-- start over again! Somewhere in the butt kickers of the second set, I felt it-- I am going to throw up. I couldn't breathe, so freaking hot I couldn't imagine that I would I ever cool down again, and my stomach was ready to evacuate. I slowed down and sort of half-jumped, half-stood around while the rest of the group started the third set. Fanny was a ROCK STAR-- she made it through the whole thing! I ambled over to my water bottle, which had by this time started to simmer like a pot of soup. My stomach eased up a bit.

"Okay take a rest for a minute!". Bless you, perky little trainer. I will do just that. I caught my breath for a moment, murmured a few "Holy Sh*t!"s to Fanny because that's what I do when I don't know what to do, and started to wonder if I was really gonna make this. Sweat was everywhere. I could count my pulse just from it beating in my ears from the heat.

Round 3: running steps. Ahhh, yes, the location where we were has a set of steps that are not altogether unlike the "Rocky steps". Our task is to run to the top of the steps with our partner, pause there to do some arm work with the resistance bands, and run back down the steps. Three times. First time up the stairs- nice and speedy, I'm working now! I got my second wind! I got to the top, we busted out the arm exercises, and trucked back down the steps. Next time up the steps, I was walking. And panting. I messily made my way through the arms, and kind of let gravity do its thing and push me back down the steps. Third time up those steps-- we stayed up. I don't recall that I went back down those *^&% steps any more. By that time I was soaked in sweat and breathing so hard that when I exhaled it was some kind of harsh, wheezy, rush of air that I couldn't get out fast enough so I could hurry and take in another. Oh, and by this time I am coughing. My water bottle is now at a hard boil. I took a swig but spit it right back out.

We all sat down. Several people in the group have fared better than I have by this point, but there were a few who dropped out back at the jumping jacks. I gauged myself as doing "ok". I mean, I didn't puke or anything. Fanny is still Rockin it Out!

The last exercises of the class were a blur. There was some stuff with cones, some burpees, some donkey kick-like things, and I don't know what else. Oh, more steps. I pushed up and down those steps a couple more times. By this time, though, I had become complete incapable of following directions. The trainer would demonstrate the exercises for us, complete with how many reps and sets of each, and I would nod obediently, but as soon as it was "go time", I would freeze and mumble incoherently at Fanny "wait, what?"... Lack of oxygen is all I can say for myself.

Before I knew it, it was time to cool down and stretch. I started to feel somewhat like my breathing was coming back under control. I found my car keys and cursed myself for parking so far away. My legs were complete jelly walking back down the steps toward the parking spaces. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to push the gas and brake pedals. I said goodbye to Fanny, started my car, and turned the A/C to max. I stopped at the first gas station I got to and got a PowerAde Zero out of the cooler. 32 ounces. I drank 16 ounces on the way to the cash register. I drank the other 16 waiting for the lady to make change from my 5 dollar bill. I walked out with my empty bottle and change.

According to Fanny's heart rate monitor, she burned 1100 calories in 55 minutes. With all my resting, I am sure I did not, but I probably got somewhere about 600 calories outta me. I will definitely go back to tomorrow's session for another delirium-inducing sweat fest. We've decided to freeze our water bottles before class this time (duh) so we're not dying of dehydration. Oh, and I probably shouldn't wear black workout pants again, either-- too hot!

To all the men and women in the military who have endured real Boot Camp or Basic Training, in much hotter conditions than these, with real drill sergeants instead of perky trainers that I paid to yell at me, and in much less comfortable garb than my Dri-Fit Workout Wear-- I salute you. I am not worthy.




All things "Olive" today:
Epsom salts- works wonders on sore muscles!
Going to bed before it's even dark outside
Garbanzo beans on my salad


xoxo,
Meanie