I was going to write a rousing, epic tale of butt camp and my efforts there. But I realized that the posting would be too long. And I got really busy today. And when I blog at night, my efforts tend to lack substance. So instead, I decided to put it into several parts - probably two. Or three. For tonight, I thought I would introduce you to my fellow boot campers, otherwise known as "boot-ies." Oh, and the names have been cleverly disguised. Unless you're one of my boot-ies. In that case, you know who you are!!
First of all, there's General Eisenhower, aka Ike, our leader. He comes up with the routine (which usually involves running, crunches, and other crazy stuff), he tells us what to do (which I rarely understand and do backwards), he tells us when we're doing it wrong (which is frequently in my case since I've adapted whatever to my age and abilities), and he chooses the play list (which apparently contains no show tunes). He is also a child, since he is the same age as my son, who should still be 10 years old. However, since that son now has a daughter of his own, I guess I should admit he is an adult, but by doing that what does that make me? Anyhoo, Ike is the Boot-ie in Charge.
Next on the list are Mitch and Track, the Wonder Girls. No, they're not related but they do the partner torture together and run together. They're usually on the 7th lap by the time I finish my first. I think they use 50 pound weights when we're using 5 pounders. Mitch wears a calorie counting contraption - I think she burned a billion this morning. Mitch and Track are both very smart and work in professions where you have to be very smart, they have kids, and they're married. Not to each other, but to some obviously very smart dudes who know quality when they see it. I think Mitch and Track are probably super heroes in their spare time. I would probably hate them if they weren't so sweet and friendly and nice and funny.
Next is U-K. She's a recent US citizen. She's had a bum foot all summer, which means she can only lap me 6 times, because she's basically running on one foot. Today she was my partner for the partner drills - bless her bloomin' heart. I think she weighs as much as my left arm. She walks and takes care of doggies - so of course she has a heart of gold, too. Apparently mean girls must go to reform boot camp. Anyhow, U-K is always full of encouragement and laughter, which makes all those sweaty micro-seconds of boot camp go quicker.
Not to confuse you, but there's also B-K. She's tall and has very long legs, which means she laps me times 4.75. She has to travel a lot, so she's not there every day. Which means she's my partner on the days she's in town. Why? I don't know - probably because she's hoping I will pass out and she won't have to do the exercise since she is calling 911. She's always very nice about letting me do only 25 crunches when everyone else is doing 2 or 3 hundred. We're also the same age, but that year she got the lean, tall look while I got the short, wide look.
This is Day-Glo. She is in the negative numbers as far as body fat goes. On the weekends, she rides bikes for miles and miles - on purpose. For a while, her daughter, Baby-Glo came with her to butt camp. When Maribeth/Molly came with me, we called them the "good mother and daughter." Guess what we called ourselves. Anyhow, the Glo's run so fast, they race each other. Day-Glo does it all, too - work, teenage-daughters, husband, church - and she's a genuinely nice person, too. But the best thing is that she eats pancakes (something I'm trying to convince my butt-ies that is essential to strength training).
Of course, there are the toddlers, better known as the twenty-somethings. They're young, they're athletic, they're pretty - what else can I say? Oh yeah, they're nice too. They wheel my hoveraround to me after boot camp and turn up my oxygen tank for me.
There are many characters who come and go, sometimes for only one session of butt camp. Maybe it's because of finances, or because they lost that 75 pounds in four weeks and have no further use of an hour of misery. Maybe it's because my body odor destroyed their sense of smell. Maybe it's because they have opened up their own exercise studios. But for whatever reason, they were my boot-ies for awhile. They were understanding, and helpful, and kind, and a true benefit of coming to butt camp.
So those are some of my boot-ies. If there were no other benefits from sweating like a pig for an hour at dark-thirty in the morning, it would be simply from knowing all these women (and one dude). Somehow they make the 60 minutes not seem like 60 hours.
But there are other benefits to butt camp. I just need to sleep on those! Tomorrow - Part Duh - Getting There.
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Today's blessings: drop off/pickup of Lindley at day care; mailing b/day packages; consulting with Matt the Landscaper about our sad lawn; ADT dude; chicken sapa with Lynnette, Lindley, Steve, and Molly; cleanup and post-it-ing Molly's house
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