Instant Gratification

WEEK 4 REPORT: Still no buns of steel...

Seriously, am I asking for too much, here?

For Pete's sake... I feel "the burn". Everyone in the class feels "the burn".

After all, we have just spent the last 4 weeks OUTDOORS in ARIZONA from 6:59 PM (because there's extra torture - namely, Mountain Climbers - for those who fall victim to afternoon rush hour traffic and arrive 1 second past 7PM) to 8:30 PM.

We Lunge and Squat on concrete that has absorbed the sun's rays all day long only to radiate that ungodly heat back at us from below. If The Wall isn't melting the rubber soles off our sneakers, it's burning the top layer of skin off our hands during those evil Raised Wall Push-Ups. And the metallic park benches (yeah, I wanna know who's genius idea those were) sizzle whatever skin is left on those same scorched palms with each and every Dip.

Let me be perfectly clear (especially for those of you who have moved away from the Valley of the Sun and conveniently "forgotten" what it's like to have FORD branded on your thigh by your seat belt): If we were "nuts", the evening Boot Camp session would classify as the "oven-roasted" variety.

We are exercising, no scratch that... We are strenuously exercising in temperatures that puts Bikram Yoga to shame. And, as we hear it told in the evenings, the morning Boot Campers have whined about 78 degrees.

WHINED ABOUT 78 DEGREES?!?

How could you possibly whine about 78 degrees? What? Are you COLD or something?

And, don't even try to tell me that you ladies have it sooo much harder because it's early...

You're talking to the Queen of Early Rising! Last year I was up at 3:30 AM and jumping into an icy pool to swim laps at 4AM for 2 hours every morning. (And yes, many friends questioned my sanity.)

Admittedly, this year, I've taken it easy on myself and I am now getting up with the Hubby's alarm clock. But his alarm goes off at 4:30 AM and I'm in the pool for laps by 5 AM - in addition to Boot Camp. (And yes, my friends are questioning my sanity again thanks to Boot Camp.)

As I hear it, I think the only real complaint that the morning Boot Campers could possibly have has something to do with Stadium Steps, and for anything regarding "stairs" you have my empathy.

So, I realized this morning that Monday, June 25th, marked the 3rd Anniversary of "The New Me".

Three years ago, I left dinner with the BandGirl and her mom and I signed a 2-year gym contract, making a lasting (and expensive) commitment to improve my health (before pregnancy).

The first thing I did was jump into a water aerobics class. I quickly realized that I was horribly out of shape when "The Water Ladies" (a group of senior citizens who were in the 6AM Aqua Aerobics class 5 days a week) danced circles around me while chatting and I was breathless and struggled to last the full 55 minutes of the class.

One month later, I was heading to the gym 5-days a week on my way to work and working with a personal trainer who helped me re-program my brain to believe that fitness was more "fun" and less "chore". Within 6 months, I was a full-fledged gym-junkie (6-7 days a week!), annoyed and irritable if I didn't get my daily dose of endorphins.

When the gym closed down, I bounced around until I found my new home-away-from-home at LA Fitness. That's when I discovered a REAL lap pool (and how exhausting it is to swim it!). After just two months of laps, I swam my first full mile freestyle and one year ago (on the 4th of July weekend) I swam 3 miles in about 2.5 hours. I had the time, and I simply wanted to see "how far I could go". Honestly, I only stopped because I figured I was so pruned that my fingertips wouldn't un-pucker for about a week (and people were lining up to use the lanes).

So now I'm here... 3 years later and 50 pounds less.

I am graduating my first Boot Camp Session tomorrow.

More importantly, I am already signed up for the next one.

And MOST importantly, I am trying to remember that I can't expect to see changes overnight - even though I want to.

4 Letter Words & Other "EVIL" Boot Camp Vocabulary

My week began with a 4-letter word: LEAK.

On Monday morning, the source of the mysterious "puddle" in my garage was identified when a cascade of water poured down from my attic through the vent and sky light in my laundry room, causing a flood and making think I'd somehow missed a message from God to build an Ark.

Apparently, a hose had come loose from the drain pipe, and thanks to our neighbor (who unlike Tool Time's Wilson DOES show his face on the other other side of the fence) the problem was fixed with DUCT TAPE.

And, sadly, somewhere in the crisis, my CELL phone drowned. But I didn't discover this until Tuesday morning...

So Monday night, Day 7 was what the Boot Camp Guru titled "FOUR MINS. FROM HELL". It was obvious I was in trouble at that moment.

Tuesday night, which I'd call "ABS-olutely Fabulous" was even worse. Instead of 4 minutes per exercise like Monday night, it was our circuit training day and every other exercise was ab-related. I honestly couldn't stand up straight until dinner.

Wednesday night, GadgetGirl came to my rescue. GadgetGirl (who can never resist the latest in technological advances - hence, the Roomba that scoots around their floors each day!) just "happened" to have an "extra" Blackberry lying around that I could borrow. So I trekked to her house and forfeited the opportunity to blog about Days 7 & 8...

Thursday night was the "Obstacle Course". The source of my trouble with the event can be summed in two more 4-letter words: JUMP ROPE. (Have no fear Blue Team, I'm practicing at home from now on!)

And, Friday night, Hubby and I celebrated a belated Father's Day with our parents, so blogging was banned for both of us last night.

So here it is, 4:45 AM Saturday morning, and yes I really am awake. I'm about to go do my neighborhood laps, complete with DIPS, LUNGES, SQUATS, and BACKWARDS WALKING before we drive 7 hours (one way) to have dinner with our friends, SuperChargers' Fans #1 & #2.

But, at least my crazy week will end with a couple of fun 4-letter words: ROAD TRIP!

My Hero

Here's a little SAT-style insight on the relationship that has developed between me and SuperCuz...

The best description I can offer is this: SuperCuz is to me, as Batman is to Robin.

That's right. In the GRAND scheme of things (well, at least in my little blog-world today), SuperCuz is a mega crime-fighting character, I am her sidekick, and Fitness Boot Camp is the ultimate Super Hero Training Program.

Unfortunately, ALL mega crime-fighting Super Heroes have some form of "weakness" that makes them appear more "human". (As if saving you mere mortals from general villainy wasn't enough to make you revere us already...)

Last night, Day 6 of Boot Camp, uhhh...I mean, Super Hero Training, we discovered that SuperCuz is no exception to this rule.

Admittedly, I was disheartened to learn that while Superman has only ONE real "tool" for destruction (Kryptonite), SuperCuz has THREE (Las Vegas, junk food and turbulence).

On Wednesday morning, SuperCuz flew to Vegas for work (in a plane because flying is NOT her Super Power). She spent 24 hours in Sin City with her boss, ate a ton of unhealthy food, and flew back the next day through Arizona's summer air currents. By the time she arrived at Boot Camp last night, it was evident that she lacked her usual "pep".

Fortunately for me (because, as you'll soon learn, it is always "all about me"), Day 6 was "Partner Day" which meant that her weakened Super Hero state was much closer aligned to my sidekick level.

That said, the Super Hero Training Program last night was no less challenging than any other day. The Boot Camp Guru had some seriously evil tricks up her sleeve...

After a warm-up lap around the park, we were placed in pairs. SuperCuz and I were assigned to work together. That only makes sense...after all, who in their right mind splits up Barnes and Noble? Bert and Ernie? Ben and Jerry?

I thought we were working well (enough) together. We managed 20 push-ups; 10 regular and 10 clapping each other's hands in between each push-up. And also, as I feared initially, we had to do "real" sit-ups where the other person counts (but because I have managed to keep her "true" identity concealed on this blog, she never "accidentally" lost track of the number during my Minute of Pain).

The trouble really begin when we were told to do this EVIL form of shoulder exercise where her arms are my resistance and vice versa. In hind sight, I should have seen the warning sign during that form of torture. She had regained some of her energy.

By the time we were mid-way through the session, her strength had almost fully returned. She certainly had recuperated enough strength to toss my butt to the ground. Literally. One minute I was standing. The next, I was not. Of course, she had an extreme advantage as it was her turn to hold one my legs in the air while I barely balanced on the other. But honestly, the embarrassment of falling on my butt (and writing about it later) is nothing compared to the embarrassment I have of losing our final challenge - "Butt Tag".

This "game" is where she unleashed her Super Power for the first time. SuperCuz has super-fast and super-long ARMS. Think: Elastigirl! I have never seen anything like it in real life!

(Well, OK. Maybe except for that one time when I went out with a guy who became an octopus about 10 minutes after he picked me up for our date.)

But, seriously, there was no OFFENSE on my end. Just DEFENSE. And not even a whole lot of THAT!

All I know is that I clearly need a lot more Super Hero Training.

So unless SuperCuz discovers my weakness (champagne!), I will be at the gym tomorrow morning for a mega crime-fighter's workout and maybe by the next "Partner Day" I'll be ready to challenge her again.

What Goes Around, Comes Around

A few days ago, the MonkeyWhisperer (one of my best friends from High School) called and I instinctively knew better than to whine to her about my first week of Boot Camp. In fact, she is the last person that I would complain to, for this simple reason: what goes around, comes around.

Don't get the wrong impression here... The MonkeyWhisperer oozes with compassion for my aches and pains AND she would offer very genuine words of encouragement, but in the end, what I really fear is that MY words will come back to haunt ME.

You see, this past year, the MonkeyWhisperer flew off to track wild monkeys in a forest in Kenya. I'm not kidding. Approximately one month into her adventure, the HeadShrinker (the 3rd leg in our virtual tripod of High School friendship) and I got an email from the MonkeyWhisperer asking for our input. The debate was whether she should come home after three months or six. My advice to her was short and sweet. My email reply read, "Suck it up. Stick it out and finish what you started."

The HeadShrinker's response was basically the same as mine - she just used a much better vocabulary when she said it. (After all, she is barely a few months away from legally charging the MonkeyWhisperer and I big bucks for our long-distance couch sessions regarding men and careers - hey, can we get a "group therapy" discount if we three-way our phone calls from now on?). In fact, if I remember correctly, I think she even copy-and-pasted parts of my email to incorporate into her own $.02 reply.

I'll admit that each day of Boot Camp last week I reached out for support from at least one of my friends. I needed an emotional boost. A verbal hug. A gentle kick in my already-aching-backside to motivate me back to the next Boot Camp session. (Especially since every evil glare I shot at SuperCuz during "burpies" or "dips" or some other form of primitive torture only extracted another breathless "You'll thank me for this later".)

Driving home from Day 1 of Boot Camp, I called the BandGirl seeking a shoulder on which to cry. Instead, the groggy voice on the other end of the phone said, "Better YOU than ME". Once my initial shock wore off, I realized that I really can't complain because the BandGirl comments -without prompting- that I am smaller and smaller every time we get together, and it is always when I need the motivation most.

The next day, five minutes before the session on Day 2 started, the HeadShrinker caught up with me after a week-long game of phone tag. In our brief conversation, she offered the psychological words of encouragement I wanted to hear. Of course, those treasured words were laced with a hint of evil laughter and an unspoken undertone of "better you than me" which she disguised brilliantly in the phrase, "I could never do what you're doing".

Damn. The price of therapy for my irrational fear of step ladders (thanks to The Wall) probably just went up.

After my horrifying introduction to The Wall on Day 3, I called WallStreet - who is determined to find his future fortune among the Penny Stocks...and never work in a cubicle farm again. Aside from the Roomie, WallStreet is the only other person I still see regularly from college. (SuperCuz and I are crashing WallStreet's bachelor pad in San Diego in a few weeks as our reward for Outwitting, Outplaying and Outlasting our fellow Boot Camp "Survivors".) To my surprise, WallStreet laughed OUT LOUD for the length of my entire drive home. From the moment I hit the freeway to the minute I parked, there was a constant stream of cackling on his end of the conversation - and silence on mine.

That's approximately when I gave up and decided to turn the phone off after Boot Camp. From now on, I plan to retreat home after each session to lick my wounds and return for the next class with my own rejuvenated spirit and motivation.

Besides, I'm tough! I can handle anything the Boot Camp Guru dishes! I survived Days 4 and 5, and honestly the worst ache I walked away with was cramps. (Then again, maybe I only survived the trauma of "Lunge Day" and "the Card Game" because I was heavily medicated. Motrin had been piped into my bloodstream for days.)

I am not at all eager to face The Wall on Thursday. I'm hoping my knees and hips don't hate me at the end of Day 6.

But, I'm not afraid of throwing in the towel...I'm sure the MonkeyWhisperer's voice will be in the back of my mind any time I want to quit telling me to "Suck it up. Stick it out and finish what you started."

The Alphabet Spells P-A-I-N

I've got GOOD news and I've got BAD news.

The GOOD news is that "pit pain" does not - I repeat, DOES NOT - appear to be a lasting or permanent side-effect of Boot Camp. Just a recurring one.

The BAD news, however, is that when the "pit pain" subsides, something else will hurt. Probably worse.

I know this to be true because I am writing this two days after Day 3 of Boot Camp, and as of today I am now entirely more appreciative of:

• a stairwell with handrails,
• handicap bathrooms with stabilizing bars,
• vehicles with step-runners and "Oh Shit!" handles,
• ANY chair with arms, and
• whenever available: RAMPS.

Why is this?

Because on Thursday night, the Boot Camp Guru formally introduced us to The Wall.

The Wall spans 8-inches or more in height and several feet in length. It does not: 1) have fangs, 2) attack small children or animals, or 3) scare husbands into turning off ESPN and finishing their "Honey Do" lists.

However, after my experience with The Wall on Thursday night, I now have an irrational phobia of step ladders I need to overcome AND despise all curbs and the sunken shower in our Master Bath, where as Thursday morning I wouldn't have given either of those a second thought.

I have decided to approach The Wall as my own personal "Yoda". Like the tiny, green Jedi Master, I see great things in its future. I think I can convince myself to appreciate The Wall over the next 12 weeks. Especially since The Wall has the potential to become a strong ally in my personal war on jiggly thighs...that is, assuming my hips and knees don't retreat from the battles ahead.

What I REFUSE to willingly embrace is the ab-killer known as The Alphabet.

It's endless. It's excruciating. It's 100% pure EVIL. It's almost too painful to discuss...

We must have spent 5 full minutes lying there in agony as the Boot Camp Guru called out each letter of the alphabet, S-L-O-W-L-Y, for us to trace in the air with our legs.

No rest.

No cheating.

No one allowed to move on to the next letter until everyone was ready.

It was horrifyingly horrible and afterwards, I was spent. The Alphabet drained my body and my spirit of any fight I had left in me. Thankfully, it was the end of the session.

The next night, SuperCuz and I joined the Hubby and our buddy, the SportsGeek, at the bar for a beer. They casually asked about our first week of Boot Camp, and we discussed the challenges we faced in each class and the aches and pains associated with each one.

We talked about the 40 push-ups "to start". We talked about the "burpies" and worse: "burpies" WITH a push-up! We talked about various components of the circuit training day and The Wall as though it had personality.

But when SuperCuz simply said, "The Alphabet", she and I both paused as a silent memory of misery flashed through our minds and took a drink.

The FULL-Body Work Out

Great. Now my head hurts.

The Boot Camp Guru is literally working every muscle I've got...including my brain.

Apparently, in addition to the "awesome" physical training we embrace at Fitness Boot Camp, the Boot Camp Guru dishes out cerebral calisthenics as well. These exercises are assigned with the intent to strengthen our self-confidence and tone our self-esteem.

In some ways, this type of exercise is FAR more strenuous and painful than the 450 crunches we did in Day 2's "circuit training" session. (But since I do see the value in both workout styles AND I fear the consequences for lack of participation, I assure you, I have done this week's assignment.)

Monday night we were given the Brain Breaker for Week One:
Create 25 Self-Affirmations.

My first thought was: "Holy crap! Is this woman serious? How can I come up with 25 - TWENTY-FIVE - affirmations before Thursday?"

My second thought was: "What happens if I can't come up with 25 affirmations?"

My third and fourth thoughts were simultaneous: "We can't say can't" and "I don't even want to think about the physical consequences for falling short of the 25 affirmations assigned. Not even by ONE."

I spent the greater part of Tuesday and Wednesday trying to ease the aches and pains in my body, and as I stretched and relaxed a few affirmations popped into my head. I had about 8 affirmations in total, but I figured that if this assignment is due tonight, I had better get serious. As far as I'm concerned, my "pit pain" is just starting to dissipate, so there is no way in Hell that I will get stuck doing whatever torture is designed for the poor souls who didn't take the time to do enough soul-searching to come up with their 25.

So here goes:

1. I am not in competition with anyone but myself.
2. I am grateful for the ability to change.
3. I am stronger and healthier today than the day I began this journey.
4. I am improving my health for myself.
5. I am improving my health for my (future) family.
6. I am willing to work hard.
7. I am willing to change.
8. I am worthy of change.
9. I am motivated to change.
10. I have encouragement from my family and friends every day.
11. Today, I am one day closer to my goal.
12. I accept that change doesn't happen overnight.
13. I will be patient with myself.
14. I will forgive myself when I stumble.
15. I will be proud of myself every day.
16. Today, I choose to be healthy.
17. Today, I choose to be positive.
18. Today, I choose to be active.
19. I am playful.
20. I am energetic.
21. I am creative.
22. I am an inspiration to others.
23. I am just as important as everyone else.
24. I am my own idol. (An inside joke from college that the BandGirl will get!)

and my favorite...

25. I am a work in progress.

The "Pits" of Despair

I hurt.

Not just a little, but a whole lot. (And the pain is now spreading at a relatively rapid rate.)

Let me explain:

Day 1 was tough, but SuperCuz and I gave it every ounce of effort we had. When the Boot Camp Guru said lunge, we lunged. When she said squat, we squatted. With each quarter-mile lap around the park, we eagerly returned to our towels for (water first, and then) more abuse.

We did ALL 50 of the 50 "dips" we were told to do off the park bench and we counted ALL 40 of the 40 push-ups assigned (because apparently we START with 40 push-ups). We did everything we were told and we smiled when we did it (for the most part). And, in retrospect, maybe I should have saved some of that enthusiasm for Day 2...

I honestly thought I had escaped this "adventure" without a heap of agony, but I see now that I was wrong.

Really, really wrong.

You see, when I woke up yesterday, the only area on my body that ached was my butt. (Clearly I needed more time on the ice packs.) When asked, I told everyone that I was "fine" and that "nothing hurts but my butt!" I even got out of bed with my regular alarm (4:30 AM) and swam a 1/2 mile at the gym before heading off to work. I felt great...until noon.

Somewhere around lunch I suddenly realized that I have arm pits - and although I am no expert, I am pretty sure that arm pits are not supposed to hurt.

So, with an aching butt and intense "pit pain," I popped Motrin like jelly beans and braced myself for Day 2, but in reality, nothing could have prepared me for last night.

As promised, each night of Boot Camp appears to be different. Day 2 was "circuit training," which by the Guru's definition is: "Seven different exercises, doing each exercise for one full minute, and then a two-minute break." And repeat. 3 more times.

We laughed. We cried. We bribed AND begged to end the madness before each minute was up. But nothing worked. The Boot Camp Guru held her ground - and her stop watch - and smiled at us while we did 4 full "circuits." Even Hubby's monkey math will calculate that we did 28 different exercises in 28 minutes and about 1/3 of them were abs.

The session started off OK, but when she told us to do push-ups, I just stared at SuperCuz in disbelief. Was this woman serious? My pits were still in recovery from Day 1's "let's start with 40" crap, let alone adding to the pain with a set of push-ups in 3 different arm positions! And "burpies" and squats for one whole minute... my butt!

The bottom line, pardon the pun, is that if a muscle didn't hurt BEFORE Day 2, it certainly did AFTER.

So here I am, a 2-Day Fitness Boot Camp Survivor with the night off before going back for Day 3. Thanks to last night's workout, my Motrin bottle is empty, my "pit pain" is worse and my abs ache with each breath. And the full minute of squats really pushed me over the edge. I have been faced with Hamlet's famous question, "to pee, or not to pee," all damn day!

I have tried to come up with something "positive" about not being able to lift my arms higher than the steering wheel, (you know, in case the "pit pain" is a permanent side effect of Fitness Boot Camp) and I think I've finally done it: If I can't lift my arms, at least I'll save money on deodorant.

Ice, Ice Baby

A few weeks ago, I attended the last bridal shower in (what I now affectionately call the 6 weddings that dominated my social calendar between President's Day and Memorial Weekend) the "2007 Marital Bliss Marathon."

So at this shower, I was seated at the kitchen counter snacking on my plate of tasteless veggies, miserably avoiding direct eye-contact with the 3 - yes, THREE! - plates of See's Candies, and chatting with my newest cousin-to-be, but since she's got the rock I'll skip the "2B" formalities.

In our conversation, we discovered that we have some things in common:

1. A clothing-driven motivation for improving our overall health and fitness - of course, her focus is on all things "bridal" while mine is on all things "baby",

2. A day planner which blatantly reveals our secret love affair with [the] 'Gym', (apologies to Hubby and Future-Hubby!)

3. A membership to LA Fitness, which means that we can hang out weeknights and sweat next to someone we know and love on the "Dreadmill", and, most importantly,

4. A little sense of adventure when it comes to fitness.

It didn't take long for her to figure out that when I am (slightly) apprehensive about trying something new, she can pretty much coax me INTO and THROUGH just about anything... (i.e.: my two attempts at jogging last week AND last Thursday's Zumba class - an aerobic Latin dance class - and to be perfectly clear... I LACK ANY ZUMBA TALENT.)

Within our first week of gmail conversations, our sense of adventure got the better of us and we signed up for a Ladies' Fitness Boot Camp program. SuperCuz* and I are determined to withstand a full 12 weeks of sheer butt-kicking workouts - and yes, that is meant in the most literal form. (At this point, my only hope for escape is pregnancy...)

This group meets 3 times a week. Outside. 90 minutes. In the sweltering heat of June, July and August right here in the Arizona desert. In the dark. Where no one will hear us cry out in pain, "This feels AWESOME!" until we just can't do one more fire-hydrant leg lift without the biggest muscle in our body cramping right then and there.

We can't cuss. We can't say "can't". No matter how much it hurts. All we can say to the reigning Boot Camp Guru is that she's "awesome" - but she didn't say we had to smile when we say it.

So, we survived our first session last night, and although we have lived to tell about it, first I desperately need a shower, and several Motrin, and a lot more water, and a really good stretch and a whole bunch of ice packs for my butt. And since SuperCuz and I go back tomorrow for more "adventure", I think I need a little rest now, too.

Feel free to check in for more Boot Camp Body updates, because I'll be sure to post how "AWESOME" SuperCuz and I look and feel throughout this little adventure. And yes, I'll probably be typing from a frosty perch of ice packs.

Erica

*This name has been changed to protect the innocent (and because I fear that someday she will be counting my push-ups and might "accidentally" lose count if I reveal her true identity at this point in time).