Boot Camp Rules
Not for the weak of muscle or ego
By: Faith Deutschle
I am borderline crazy. I actually enjoy working out. I have been known to run half marathons for the fun of it and play for multiple soccer, football and softball teams. So when I signed up to do a fitness boot camp that meets Tuesdays and Thursdays at 6 a.m. and Saturdays at 10 a.m., I wasn’t really sweating it. I shouldn’t have been so cocky. First, the classes met three days a week, bright and early; 5 a.m. is not a good hour for me. In fact, I can’t think of one time I have been awake at 5 a.m. and not been thinking, “What the hell am I doing awake?” Needless to say I was always late for boot camp. On day one, I found myself sprinting to get to the gym. And despite the early hour, the irony that I was running to go run did not escape me. Nausea was foremost in my mind (which probably had something to do with the three beers and cheeseburger and fries I had wolfed down about three hours prior).
I live right in the heart of Baltimore. I love it and will proclaim that over and over again no matter what The Wire says. However, the distinct smell of garbage that surrounds the city in the wee hours of the morning is definitely something I could live without. On this particular day, I would have rather ripped off my nose than deal with the stench as I sprinted to catch up with the group. Fifteen minutes later I am knee-deep in sand and on my third set of suicides. My stomach lurches once every five seconds. I managed to keep last night’s binge down and hold onto some of my pride, but it wasn’t my finest hour. The number one boot camp rule: Do not party the night before boot camp.
During the second week I learned what pain is as I carried a fellow camper on my back while running up and down hills. When we switched positions, and it was my turn to take a ride, I settled in for some much needed rest. I quickly found out that there’s a reason why I haven’t had a piggy back ride in about 10 years. They hurt like hell. The second boot camp rule: Everything hurts at boot camp.
Despite all my complaining, I was losing weight and gaining muscle by the third week. Also, I couldn’t help but love that I was the fastest camper. On Saturday of the last week, I was excited for what I was sure would be an “easy” day. I mean the last day should be for hugs and congratulations. I was wrong. Our instructor, the Hell Raiser, introduced his girlfriend, Diesel, to the group and said she would be joining us for the last class. We took off running. Not only was it the hardest class, but Diesel lapped me TWICE. She was the fittest person I have ever met in my life. The number three boot camp rule: Diesel wins. You lose.
In the end I lost five pounds and a considerable amount of fat and inches. I also just signed up for session two. What can I say? Maybe I’m a masochist, or perhaps I just want another shot at Diesel.
Tell us: What has been your most challenging work out?