Butt Camp

Okay, okay - I know it's Nashville Adventure BOOT Camp, but my moniker seemed more accurate, since it was my butt that got kicked today, and that I'm trying to get into shape. Yes friends, today was the first day of a four-week program designed to get me back into some sort of fitness ... since today I realized I am in no state of fitness.

It all began at 5:15 am, when I rousted Maribeth out of bed so that we could get to the torture chamber - I mean gym - by 5:30. Thank goodness it's only two miles from my house. Anyhow, we each get our two 5-pound weights and our two 8-pound weights (that's two of each) and our expensive foam mats and our water bottle and off we go.

The next hour was filled with a variety of things, most of which are a blur for me. So instead of giving you an exact blow-by-blow, I have decided to just hit the highlights for you.

*There was a lot of jogging around the gym. At least for the ladies who wear shorts and sports bras. For people like me (and there weren't really any), there was a Lady Maidenform covered by a XL t-shirt and yoga pants. And it was more wogging than jogging. At least until the 6th lap, or was it the 6 billionth lap, when my left ankle decided no-way, and chose to turn and twist and land me on the floor. Which wasn't nearly as embarrassing as all the young-uns stopping and asking the elderly fat lady if she was okay.

*There was a lot of lifting of the 5-pound weights. Maribeth and I made an executive decision to leave the 8-pounders at home for while, since the 5's were more than enough to cause cardiac distress. The hardest part is to remember when to breathe in and out. Naturally, I do it wrong every time. I think I will just tell Commandant Josh that at my age, we need to be thankful that I can draw a breath, no matter in what order.

*There was a lot of jumping jacks. So in case you felt movement and wondered if it was an earthquake, it wasn't. It was just me. Until the ankle twist, when it became steppin' jacks. Who is Jack, anyway?

*There was a lot of variations on sit ups. Or to use the politically correct term, crunches. There were some where you had to stare at the ceiling, some where your legs were supposed to point up (yeah, like that was going to happen), some where you were supposed to pivot from side to side (which was fine until I started getting seasick), and some partner ones - which is when Maribeth decided to find a new mother and since we had an odd number of inmates, Heil Josh became my partner. Payback sucks, Maribeth!

*There was a lot of lunging where your knee was supposed to touch the floor. I had forgotten to bring my walker, so that maneuver seemed a bit ambitious. Drill Sergeant Josh was mainly concerned that my steps weren't wide enough. Yeah, that was my concern too. That and the fact that everyone else was done before I got to the other side of the gym.

*There were a lot of suicide drills were you had to run here then back then there a little further then back then there even a little further then back then start over. At what point does this become murder, since it's certainly wouldn't be my choice for ending my life? I cheated a lot on this one, because this was immediately after the ankle twist and I didn't want to get trampled on by the athletes content on killing themselves.

There might have been some other stuff, but it fades in with the rest. At some point, Dictator Josh declared our emancipation, we gathered up our stuff, and meandered back to the car. We arrived home before Steve left for work. He took one look at us and ran for dry t-shirts, which he demanded we change into before we sat on the couch. I think the t-shirts we wore are still drenched in sweat.

So was it a good experience? Must be, because I'm doing it again tomorrow!