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."