Oil...Can...

As I've written in a previous post, I decided to sign up for a Fitness Boot Camp.

Monday, I thought I had made a terrible mistake. I woke up at 4:30am, managed to get dressed, put on underarm deodorant, brushed my teeth, put on my trusty Philadelphia Eagles hat, and drove to the park. I was told on-time (5:30am) is late, so I got there at 5:15 and managed to get a parking space. There were a total of 100 "recruits" (newbies) and "veterans" who attended the first session.

I didn't realize how poorly out of shape I was until the calisthenics drill began. I managed to do a lot of them, but not all of them. I was wheezing so badly that I had to stop a few times. After 45 minutes worth of planks, side-straddle hops (the new-fangled way of saying jumpin' jacks), push ups, hello dollies, cherry pickers, and others I can't even remember the names of, we lined up in rows of three to run. At about a tenth of a mile, my allergies took over my lungs and I had to stop. I walked the rest of the way. I was the last one to join the platoon during Dr. Drill's first talk.

Needless to say I went home, feeling a little defeated. Pathetic. I stood under the hot water of my shower for about 40 minutes. My tired, aching muscles really appreciated the heat.

I got changed, and went to work. Later that night, I went to Manfriend's house, and as I promised, worked out on the elliptical. I managed to get in 19.08 minutes. Then he got on, and I zoned out.

I left his house, and crawled into bed, realizing I had to get up early AGAIN because I had to travel to Jersey for work in the morning. The alarm rang at 5:30am. I whimpered, and my legs were absolultely screaming at me. I managed to get ready and out the door to beat rush-hour traffic. I did a lot of walking on-site, and my legs were really starting to get ticked off, to the point where people were laughing at me as I struggled to get seated in various meetings.

I thought, "How the heck am I going to do this for eight weeks?"

My friend C wrote me during the day, providing words of encouragement. She said even though she's been through it twice, her legs were hurting, too.

As she advised, Tylenol would become my best friend on Tuesday night.

This morning, I heard thunder and lightning. I was kind of excited, thinking, "Ooooo. Maybe we'll work out indoors." No such luck. The skies cleared up in time for 5:30am, and we ran out to the field and worked out. I was covered in grass and mud by the time I left today. And I smushed two worms on the way down to do plank exercises. (Ew.)

My legs hurt just as much as they did yesterday, but I feel better about today. I ran a little, started to wheeze, walked the rest of the way, was the last person to sit down, again. It doesn't matter: I felt better about what I accomplished for the day. I'm just going to take it a day at a time.

If I had to set a long-term goal, it would be to get through all the exercises prior to the running. My guess is by week eight, I'll still be the last one to sit down, but perhaps I'll have a slow jog going, rather than a walk.

In the meantime, I am SORE. It's a good sore, but it's SORE nonetheless.