Day Five - BootcampwithJess

Today was Cinco de Hades presented by the letter S

SURVIVAL!

I had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn which, by itself, was enough to ruin my day.

We met at a park, and for once I was thankful for the 30-pound vest. For about a minute. As long as it took us to stop marching and start “shuffling”—another word for jogging. While we jogged, we sang/chanted in cadence (in my case I gasped in cadence). It became evident that I was slowing down my column and was told to drop back—so I did.

Of course when they say “drop back” they mean “stagger and gasp at the back of the column while an instructor pokes your back and tells you to keep running.” Two problems with that:

1) If I could keep running, I wouldn’t have dropped back in the first place

2) He didn’t have a cattle prod—which may have helped

That leap of faith thing I mentioned yesterday? Well, we did something like it today, only modified.

1) We leaped, both feet at the same time

2) We dropped to the ground

3) We did a pushup

4) We stood up and did it again

5) Uphill



Diagram for those of you who like visual aids:

(note: we did not fall off actual cliffs—it is a representation of the dashing of our hopes as we reached the pinnacle and heard the order to do it again)

Stadium steps – or stair laps as you might want to call them. As I passed one instructor, I managed to choke out “I think I’m going to die.” She told me to raise my arms above my head (a sign of surrender, perhaps?)

I brought up the rear of most events, but I guess it wasn’t really a race—I mean there were no prizes or anything. Well I did get one prize. As the laggard of the “run down the hill and then climb up it on your hands and feet” drill, I noticed that those lucky ones who raced to finish first got to drop into the—you guessed it—Dead Cockroach position until everyone finished.

I’m not saying I was slow on purpose, but there was a little satisfaction in seeing the row of Dead Cockroaches and I only had to join them for about five seconds.

One last diagram:

Somehow I survived. And I did no pushups for infractions.

I whined. I hurt. I cried. I went without Diet Coke. I feel pretty good, in spite of the pain.

I took a self-portrait on the way home, just to make sure I was still fogging a mirror:

Don't be alarmed--the brown stuff on my face is camoflauge paint courtesy of Instructor Thomas. It is not the dreaded "Diet Coke Withdrawals that manifests as a Poo-like substance on your face"

SURVIVAL!    BOOYAH!

Day Four - BootcampwithJess

Today we celebrate the letter E – The fourth letter in HADES week.

END—will it ever END?

This day was complicated by the storm front moving in and aggravating my fibromyalgia pain—My life is aggravated by my adult son moving home and continually knocking on my door as I’m trying to get some much needed sleep.

What tortures awaited me today?

The pattern has warped – My instructor did NOT perform 30 pushups for me.

I had to do 30 pushups. Three infractions – called him “Inspector” twice instead of “Instructor” and forgot to say his name entirely after speaking to him once.

If I had called him what I was thinking of calling him, I probably would have had to do 300 pushups.

New torture: Leap of Faith

A diagram:

Kind of like leap frog, hence the green massive thighs. I had to do this across the room and back. Both feet off the floor at the same time. Note the 30 lb vest. My instructor has a blue cast because his arm is broken. He said it was from a car accident (mwahhhhhh, let him THINK it was an accident). The plague of flies issuing forth from his mouth is a figment of my imagination.

Do not think that I got out of the Dead Cockroach torment tonight. NO! It was worse than ever. How? I was forced to lie in that position, twitching with searing pain, while Lady GaGa blared loudly from the stereo. I. Am. Not. A. Fan.

The longest 5 minutes of my life!

Happy to say, I am still Diet Coke free. I will prevail, if the fires of Hades don’t consume my frail, flabby body first.

Day Three - BootcampwithJess

Today was brought to us by the letter D (third letter of HADES)


As in – DAM (what the one fish said to the other when they swam into the wall)
            DUMB BASS (what the dam said about the fish who ran into it)

Not really relevant, but I felt like swearing and pseudo-swearing is as close as I could get.

We worked on legs and shoulders tonight. For as big as my thighs are, you would think there were some massive quadriceps hiding in there. Apparently not, because they don’t work properly.

I was instructed to put one foot on the bench, hold the weight ball, and lift the foot remaining on the floor up to the weight ball to tap my knee on the weight ball. And REPEAT 20 TIMES. A diagram of the situation:

You don’t see the weight ball because I had no strength left and could not even do ONE rep. The instructor took the weight ball from me and told me to do 20 reps without it. When he saw my struggle to get my flaccid limb off the ground, a shred of mercy must have escaped his hardened soul – he reduced it to 15. I made it—barely.

Do you recall the Dead Cockroach from yesterday???

I do. Because I had to do it again for the third night in a row, and tonight I discovered that there are two very distinct nerve control centers in my body. The upper and the lower. From the waist up, I was a normal Dead Cockroach—not moving. From the waist down, I was twitching like my SIL given a bad nerve block—not at all normal for a Dead Cockroach. I could not control it. Another diagram:

 So if you see me laying in a gutter somewhere, twitching, these are your directions:

1) If I am face up, it means I’m stuck in the Dead Cockroach position and can’t get up. Please be a Good Samaritan and help me out.

2) If I am face down, it means I still haven’t had a Diet Coke, and you should roll me over and provide me with a 20 oz bottle immediately. Pour it down my throat if I seem unresponsive.

P.S. On a brighter note, I only had to do 10 pushups tonight. I'm seeing a pattern Monday 90; Tuesday 50; Wednesday 10. Tomorrow, I expect my instructor will do 30 push ups for me!

Day Two - BootcampwithJess

Today was “A” day (2nd day of HADES week)

As in “ARE YOU INSANE?”

Yes, it is confirmed. I went back voluntarily—muscles screaming at me all the way.

I would like to introduce you to my least favorite exercise. It is my least favorite because of 1) Its name – Dead Cockroach and 2) The deceptive way it feels like a relief for the first 30 seconds and then you wish you were a dead cockroach as the next few minutes drag on and your legs curl up involuntarily and a scream threatens to rip from your throat.

Here is an actual picture of me doing the Dead Cockroach exercise (note how my poor legs are curling, involuntarily):

(Actually, I look quite thin in this picture, so I think BootcampwithJess is already working!)
Counts:
Push ups today for breaking the rules:     50

Number of injured limbs my instructor has:    1

Number of injured limbs I wish he had:     4

Number of times I jumped to touch the top of the door jamb while wearing a 30-lb vest:   35

How heavy a 30-lb vest feels after jumping 35 times while wearing it:      100 lbs.

Diet Cokes I’ve consumed:     0

Number of firearms I purchased in the past 24 hours (curse that waiting period!):     0

Day One - BootcampwithJess

I am still alive!

That’s the good news.

I loved my first night of bootcampwithjess!

That’s the lie.

They call this “Hell Week” for a reason. I’m going to refer to it as “Hades Week” because Hades has five letters—one for each day of the week. Let’s start with “H”

As in, Why in the “H” did I sign up for this?

After turning in the diary of my past three days’ intake—food and liquid—the conversation went something like this (it was quite one-sided):

Instructor (reading list): Cheese. Ten pushups.

Although surprised that cheese was bad, I dropped and gave him ten (real pushups). Got back on my feet.

Instructor: 2 Diet Cokes. Twenty pushups.

I dropped and gave him twenty. Wobbled getting back on my feet.

Instructor: Chips. Ten pushups.

They were veggie chips! 33% less fat than regular potato chips. I dropped and gave him five real pushups then asked if I could finish with knee pushups. He said yes. Staggered to my feet.

Instructor: 2 more Diet Cokes. Twenty more. Count them.

I assumed the position (knee pushups), arms rebelled & threatened to collapse. Ignored my arms, gave twenty more. Crawled to my feet. Failed to respond correctly.

Instructor: Wrong response. Ten more.

I went back on my knees. Gave silent thanks for the knee pads. Willed the arms to stop shaking. Did ten more pushups. Almost fell over when I stood up.

Instructor: Ice cream. Ten more.

Back down, cursed Ben & Jerry’s and their mothers. Arms buckled. Caught myself. Did ten more pushups. Somehow made it to my feet. Room tilted.

Instructor: Pizza. Ten more.

Isn’t pizza healthy? It has the four basic food groups. Fall down to my knees, jelly arms somehow make it through ten more. I pray he doesn’t count each slice of pizza.

My prayers were answered. He tells me to stand at attention. I manage to sway at attention.

Instructor: 70% of this program is proper nutrition. For the next six weeks you will not drink soda…

It registers in my brain--NO DIET COKE!

Instructor: No bread.

NO DIET COKE!

Instructor: No dairy.

NO DIET COKE!

Instructor: No pasta.

NO DIET COKE!

I know you are probably thinking—this woman is addicted to Diet Coke. That is not true, I’ve quit drinking it hundreds of times.

Okay, I am addicted to it. Not just the caffeine—it’s the burn, baby.

But which is worse—90 pushups or no Diet Coke? Only an addict would ask that question.

I only hope that the Coca-Cola Company does not go out of business, having just lost my patronage for at least six weeks.

Thus we have the first fifteen minutes of my first night of bootcampwithjess.

I’ll be back tomorrow.

I will survive!

If I can last through three hours of church (Primary childrens' program)--trying to herd five rowdy eight-year old boys who hate to sing, plus two Lois Lanes and the world's most polite eight-year old who gets headaches from all the noise--I can survive BootcampwithJess.

Bring. It. On.

(these may be my final words--just saying)

Bootcamp with Jess - the Prequel

FACT: I have fibromyalgia.

FACT: I don’t get an endorphin rush from working out.

FACT: The only time I run is when there is free Diet Coke to be had, or I’m taking a cleanse.

FACT: If you piled my subcutaneous fat into a big blob, you would have—me!

FACT: I love a good bargain.

FACT: My judgment has become increasingly iffy as I age.

RESULT: At a chamber of commerce dinner last Thursday I got caught up in the enthusiasm of the silent auction and became the proud owner of 6-weeks of BootcampwithJess at a substantial savings to yours truly—PT Ferran (PT stands for Physical Trainee).

This is how it begins, directly from their website:

“It all starts with your first week of bootcamp called "Hell Week". During this week, you will wear a 30 pound vest (representing the extra fat many overweight individuals are carrying around with them).”

FACT: I already have a more than fair representation of “the extra fat many overweight individuals are carrying around with them.” So can’t I be exempt from the 30-lb vest? (I know, the answer is “ten pushups” which is the punishment for any infraction of the rules, of which there are many.)

While initially thrilled with my bargain purchase, the elation changed to alarm when my EFSIL (exercise freak sister-in-law) and AENN (another exercise nut neighbor) both said, “You’ll hate it. It will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.”

My oldest daughter added to my fear when she said, “Mom, I’ll pray for you.”

One of the required items you must have is kneepads. I asked my sister-in-law “Why would I need kneepads?” She had no idea. My daughter suggested, “Because you’ll be on your knees begging for mercy so much.”

I’ll find out on Monday, from 5-6 pm what the knee pads are for. Stay tuned. If I live through “Hell Week” you can enjoy the journey vicariously. If I die, you’ll know the cause of death.

Props to me for either: 1) Starting a path down the road to fitness; or 2) Signing my own death warrant at a bargain price.

To be continued Monday night…if my fingers and arms still work.