Bootcamp: day 9

It was cool and dark and everything in my was saying, "turn around and get in bed!", but then some damn internal Scarlett O'Hara took over and drove me to the park at o'dark terrible for day 9 of bootcamp.

It was the same old early morning torture, BUT, alas, you see something has begun to work. My first lap around the park began as always, dragging my feet and groaning on the inside. I hate running, but I started, I picked up my feet, I remembered to try to control my breathing, make my strides count, and consciously watch my feet go one in front of the other. I rounded the first bend and saw the street light where I usually stop and start to walk, but it was coming up faster than usual. I got there and I kept going. "Don't stop, you can do it, just keep going, you're almost there." I repeated that over and over while listening to the footsteps keeping pace behind me and the ones that were just up in front of me in the distance. I was in the middle of the pack, not back in second to last like usual. The girls in front, the weekend half-marathoners, the "runners", were just ahead of me.

My aversion to running is ever so sligtly lessened by my ability to persevere through the endless repetitions of squats, flys, dead lifts, bicep curls, crunches, and the like. I can really knock those out. I figure the faster I get them done, the faster I can go to bed. Not so. The faster I got them done, the faster I was sent out to run the loop, and at this time, I was in the lead. Well until the near end, and then one of the runners caught up with me. But still, there for a few minutes of solitary hoofing it, I was the head of the pack, the grand poo bah, the and it felt gooood. As God is my witness, I shall never be at the back of the pack again!!!