It is 6:51 am, post boot camp and shower and I would have to say I still love boot camp. But it is an odd thing, this boot camp. I have never had such a complicated relationship with a workout routine. Usually, I just always hate it or always love it. Wait, I have never loved it. I have loved aspects of it and had some really good days but I have never loved it.
But boot camp is like giving birth. There is alot of pain and struggle during labor but afterwards...there is just love and a story. I wake up in the morning and my first thought...hang on...let's go back a few hours. I go to bed each night and think, "man it is so late, I should just skip boot camp. I can miss one day." And I purposely don't check my IPhone alarm app to see if the alarm is set. I figure I can use it as an excuse for why I didn't get up.
But thankfully my husband has to be at work at 4:45 each morning and he is not quiet about getting ready. As a matter of fact, I think he is noisy on purpose. But by the time he leaves I am just enough awake to warrant a potty break. And I figure, since I am up, I will get dress for boot camp. Even that is still negotiable at this point. "Oh, no I can't find an exercise bra...guess I can't go. " And then, "I can't find matching socks so I can't go." I do this all the way out the door. And today I was able to add, "They blocked the main road and the detour is 10 minutes out of my way." But I still go.
As I race into the parking lot (because all my negotiating with myself has made me late). I start to get excited. And by excited I mean, it's too late now to turn around. But I get out, place my mat on the ground, put the weights down, get my sweat rag out, take a big swig of water and start to stretch.
Our warm up is always a run somewhere. We run around the church, around the track, to the gym or gasp, around the block. Now remember, running is a technique and not a pace. And my pace...slower than some people who are walking the warm up. And I do this without any music so I can actually hear myself gasping for my next breath. I am not use to that. But I learn to gasp in rhythm and whisper in cadence...you can do it, yes you can, you can do it, you can you can you can...and then all I can get out is one syllable...can, can, can, can.
As the work out continues I am bombarded by many thoughts:
You can do this.
You can't do that.
You want me to do what?
Oh my Gosh, I am doing it.
I have to stop....
I'll stop in 10 seconds.
I can stop now and no one will say anything.
If I close my eyes, I can think about my happy place.
If I close my eyes, I think I will pass out.
I don't bend that way.
I did it.
I wasn't last.
I wasn't first to fall.
This is gonna hurt tomorrow.
This was easier than I thought.
This hurts more than I thought it would .
All these thoughts go through my head while I am there. Outwardly, I think I am the only one groaning and talking to myself...but who cares.
But when all is said and done and I am driving home and I see that I burnt 600 calories in one hour and I feel the strength in my arms as I turn the steering wheel or the muscles in my legs as I walk up the driveway, I know boot camp loves me and I love it back.
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