Bootcamp: D-day

What was I thinking?

4am is meant for a lot of things: staying up, just getting in bed, activities that involve either pajamas or no clothes at all.

4am is not meant for other things: waking up, heating up oatmeal, finding your yoga pants in the garage laundry basket, letting the dog out cause she has diarrhea for the 5th time in 3 hours.

445am is meant for even less. Running around in the dark in a park you used to play in as a child with a group full of women you've never met and deer you hope wont spring its little Bambi self into you is not at the top of the 445 list.

445, we have been betrayed. This park and I are no strangers to exercise and fitness. High school tennis in the very court I was sitting in this morning. Round and round and round the jogging trail, year after year before I could even drink. The hopes and dreams we used to lay out on that track 10+ years ago. Oh, how things have changed.

I remember the old play structure that used to be there. I remember the rough beams that gave you splinters, the tire swing that swung a little to hard, and metal slide. The metal slide in the sun. That was before the ergonomic, fire retardant bark for little knees and the recycled plastic bottle slides that don't absorb heat.Metal slides. What genius thought that was an OK idea? What didn't sizzle got stuck on the hot metal and squeaked all.the.way.down...eek, eek, eek.

But back to the park this morning at 445. Why?

Bootcamp.

I signed up for an all ladies, out door, "adventure" bootcamp. 12 sessions. 4 weeks. "It's an adventure" says the website and it went like this:
run.
squat.
RUN.
crunch.
RUN.
curl.
run. run. run.

"OK, now run to the corner ladies!" peppy...how peppy it sounded echoing in that dark park this morning.
In the dim light of the early morning, I found a streetlight to focus on to dull the pain. I cursed it 487 times this morning. "Fuck you street light, I don't want to squat anymore!"
Working on my abs, I found shapes in the clouds in the moonlight to distract from the shaking muscles. Yes, the moon. It was full and it was bright and should have been shining on my roof while I laid in bed snoring. It smiled at me like it had been waiting up to laugh at me all night!!"Its a bunny. It's an apple. That one looks like a big boob." I'm not making it up, there were boobs in the clouds at 510am.

I ran again, then I jogged, I finally gasped for air. I walked. I jogged some more. Then I saw the grass. I wanted to lay in it. Face first. I didn't even care that the sprinklers were on.

"Way to go Lauren! I won't kill you on the first day, I promise!" said the instructor"Hit me in the back of the neck with a shovel and just put me out," I wanted to say back at her, but the words got stuck in what may be early on set congestive heart failure. Or asthma. I really think it could be asthma.

Covered in gravel pathway dust and sweat, squatting, I wished to be in hot yoga class sweating like a cold glass on a hot day. At least there, when the heat gets too much to bear, you can sit in child's pose with your face in your sweaty mat and your ass up in the air and no one thinks less of you.

My knees are going to hate me. My quads already do.

But...and there is a butt. As I prayed and wished and willed my heavy lunged, squatted, and curled legs to keep the pace up, and keep going one over the other, I thought about my booty and how good its gonna look in 4 weeks. Yeeaaah, buddy!
I thought about that new dress I got last week and those hot boots that go with it.
I thought about Vegas and the tiny hemlines and the tall platforms.
I thought about wearing nothing at all.
I thought about bathing suits. I thought about the annual lake day.
I thought about 5K's, marathons, warrior dash, and tough mudder.
I thought about the fact that my brother got up every.single.day for almost 5 months and put on his shoes and ran across this entire country. The entire country. On foot.
I thought about Catie whose body wont let her get up and Annie who might be able to run if she could see what was in front of her.
I thought about me and all the times I've just threw in the towel and went to bed.
Finally, I thought I can do this again.

And then...it was over.1 session down. 11 to go.

And...guess what? I can breath again. It's not asthma.