Beat camp

I joined a stupid boot camp class and had my first stupid work out sesh last night. It was so hard and I even crammed for it! I knew it was going to be difficult, so in preparation, I started a little bit of weight training a couple of weeks before, which I now see as a mere pittance. I thought it might help me ease into the weights or whatever was in store for me at boot camp. I mean, I had a rough idea of what I'd get. I have seen a couple of boot camps in my life, but never participated. You know, the random boot camps you see at parks or whatever. There are people doing their crunches or jumping jacks and I have seen these sweating, breathless people and thought to myself, "Psssht. I have done a lot of bike riding and 30 Day Shreds. I could totally jump into this boot camp and own it." I was so very, very wrong.

The work out started mild enough with two minutes of squats. At this point, I'm thinking, I will be the star student. My quads bulked up pretty nice when I was bike riding and I still have some strong muscles there. Squats are my best party trick. I did them. I was great! Yes, and not so humble about it. No, don't worry. I was humbled so hard by this class in the end. Suddenly, after my squats victory I was then pummeled by push ups, knocked out by kettle bells and fatigued by a very cruel and torturous thing they called the finisher. The finisher was several short bursts of really terrible things that I only see my Crossfit-obsessed friends post about on Facebook. I won't bore you with those details because we all have a Crossfit friend in our news feed and you don't want to hear any more about burpies and power jacks more than I do right now.

I finished it (poorly) and immediately felt like I was going to throw up. I have never felt like this after exercising and I thought I have done some fitness in my days. Having been so exhausted from those push ups (I was the last one done by over two minutes), my arms turned to jelly and I could not lift them. I stood staring at my water bottle trying to remember what it was like 45 minutes ago when I could lift the bottle to my lips without it feeling like it weighed 25 lbs. After I got home, I began peeling my work out clothes off but got stuck trying to wiggle out of my shirts. I completely lacked the strength to take them off at all. I was nearly in tears trying to not only figure out a way to get out of my clothes properly, but how I would even be able to wash my hair. To make a pretty boring story short, I got out of my clothes and my hair got washed.

Today I'm in the office sitting at my desk, carefully weighing and selecting my actions. I dropped a pen, but if I reach to get it, I will collapse in a sore pile of bones. I want to put my hair in a bun, but if I reach for my head I will cry in agony. Nah. Not worth it. I'll just sit here and try not to feel too bad for myself.


I'm totally going back there tonight.