So no one would ever mistake me for an athlete. Sure, I go to the gym occasionally, but that's usually for a hip hop class. Coincidentally, that hip hop class is where I learned my parents lied to me for those 11 years I spent in dance classes as a kid, because despite their assurance that I could dance, I actually have no rhythm.
Anyway, so yeah, I'm not an athlete. Nor am I really all that - how do I say it? - in shape. So when I decided to do a boot camp, some people were all like "Oh, you'll love it! It's hard, but you'll feel awesome after!"
But honestly, I had a much more shallow reason for wanting to do a boot camp. I want to look hot in my bridesmaids dress at my friend Liz's wedding in a month.
When there was a $35 groupon thing for boot camp I thought it was destiny. So the smart thing was signing up for a boot camp and getting a fantastic deal ($35 instead of $150! Take that, extreme couponers!) The not-so-smart part? Signing up for boot camp in August. At 6 p.m. Outside.
Holy mother of god, it's hot out there. The heat index was 106 today as I was sweating it out. But before I get to today, let me tell you about my initial session.
First, we were required to bring a yoga mat and 5 lb. hand weights. I owned neither. After purchasing the equipment, I at least felt somewhat prepared.
On the day of reckoning I brought my gym clothes to work, endured a lot of "supportive" laughter from my coworkers who couldn't wait to see me in pain the day after, and drank two liters of water to hydrate myself.
As I drove to boot camp I chatted with the bride-to-be, who I convinced to take boot camp with me, on the phone. The conversation went something like this.
E: We're gonna die.
BTB: Yep, we're gonna die.
E: Why are we doing this?
BTB: It's gonna be bad.
We arrive and the first thing our instructor does is take us to a baseball field. That we have to run around. As a warm-up. No worries, he says, only one lap today. Usually we do four. At that point I simply thought "F***."
Here's the thing, I don't run. No seriously, I hate it. And actually, if you see me running then you should run, too, because there's either a giant fireball, hungry bear, or mentally deranged killer behind me.
So after jogging 3/4 of the way and doing a brisk walk for the last bit, it was time for leg work...and arm work...and ab work. All you really need to know about this part is that it sucked. A lot.
(Yes, I know. One day in and I'm already bitching. And yes, I know it's only workout boot camp. In my former life as a reporter covering the military, I saw real boot camp and real boot camp is way harder. Good thing I only wanted to date a soldier, not be one.)
So the next day, I'm like, OK, I'm sore, but it's not awful.
Then I tried to walk up some stairs.
Oh dear lord. That hurt. Later, a coworker said something funny and I laughed heartily, and then gasped in pain and said "Oh! My abs! That hurts!"
It hurt for two days. In fact, I still hurt when I went back to boot camp today for the second session. Where he made me run. Again. Three laps this time. Then more ab work. Then running. AGAIN. During a 20-second break, as I'm dripping sweat because the heat index was 106, I just laid on my back on my newly-purchased purple yoga mat and thought "Kill me now."
I glanced at the bride-to-be and immediately read her thoughts. They were "F***. Kill me now."
But deep down, we're both thinking "We got this. Gotta look good in those dresses. Gotta look good in those dresses."
So finally, gloriously, the instructor says we're done for day two. I leave boot camp and head out for a few errands.
Let me be clear: I do not look pretty. My makeup has sweated off my face and onto my shirt. My hair is disheveled and my ponytail has somehow ended up off-kilter. I've sweated through my sports bras and t-shirt. There are random grass bits stuck to my legs.
So imagine my surprise when I stop at the liquor store to pick up some beverages for the bride-to-be's bachelorette party this weekend and this conversation happens.
Liquor store dude: I think we have some of those bottles cold if you want it.
E: No thanks, I need them for a bachelorette party this weekend. They're fine.
LSD: Bachelor party? Are you the stripper?
E: Uh, I said bachelorette.
LSD: Oh, cause you could strip for a bachelor party, you know.
E: Uh, thanks?
Hmmm, is it too soon to call boot camp victory?
