I report to boot camp on September 8.
No, this does NOT mean our military has gotten desperate and has started drafting middle-aged women. This means that I've completely gone off my nut and have signed up for early morning torture on a daily basis for 8 weeks. Or maybe it's 6 weeks. I'll just be happy if I make it through one week.
Back in the day (which I SWEAR seemed like last week), I worked out on a fairly regular basis. I would swim a mile three or four mornings a week, lift weights, go on 25 to 30 mile bike rides on weekends, and rollerblade several times a week. I'll admit it, I wasn't totally buff and cut or anything, but I was definitely in better shape than I am now. Somewhere along the line, I stopped doing all of that and discovered the joys of couch potato-tude. And in doing so, I've discovered the downside of said couch potato-tude.
I enjoyed working out. During Olympics, I would find myself swimming or skating for the gold (in my mind of course). In fact, when I was in my 40's and "swimming for the gold", I heard the announcers marveling that I was competing at the Olympic level at that age. And this year, Dara Torres stole my thunder!
Hey, Walter Mitty's got NOTHING on me!
Long bike rides in the country were not only good from a cardio-vascular standpoint, but I would work out all of the problems in the world, or at least in my own world and would have time to get a good perspective on situations that I had to deal with. And get a good tan at the same time.
But at some point in time, I've let all of that get away from me and reclaiming it has seemed to be overwhelming.
From time to time, I've taken stabs at returning to my former life. That has usually involved buying a piece of gym equipment, signing up for a class or getting my bike tuned up. I'll set the alarm for a gaspingly early hour but would end up hitting the snooze button 20 times before taking the late bus to work. Like Scarlet O'Hara, I would say, "Fiddle-dee dee. Tomorrow is another day." And another day would find me slapping the snooze alarm and oversleeping.
So far, the only thing trimming down is my bank account from the monthly automatic withdrawals for my Y membership. At one point, I decided I needed to take things to a higher level and increased my Y membership so I could attend any Y anwhere in the world.
And yet I don't.
I even got a locker at the Y across the street from work so I can roll out of bed at said gaspingly early hour of the morning, throw on work-out clothes, grab my pre-packed gym back and clothes and catch the early bus to work.
And yet I don't.
In fact, I've forgotten the combination to the locker so I can't get into it to get out my shoes, toiletries and the tank suit I keep in there to wear in the whirlpool to ease the aches and pains in the muscles I just put through a good work out. (I hear laughter in my head.)
So, one day a couple of weeks ago, I was reading the newsletter to our local community center and encountered an article about Rise and Shine Boot Camp. The article swore that the class is for participants of all levels, from couch potatoes to tri-athletes.
I thought, "hmmmm"
There's that laughter in my head again.
I put the newsletter down and went to throw in a load of wash. Towels. Recognizing the symbolism, I ran back upstairs (which has been the extent of my work outs lately) and dug the newsletter out of the trash. OK, so that's where I actually put it when I said I had put it down.
I decided to sign up and talked a friend into signing up, who talked her son into signing up. You know, that peer-pressure/misery-loves-company thing.
Realizing that the folly of trying to go from couch potato to boot camp could be VERY painful and disheartening, I decided to start trying to get active before boot camp starts.
And yet I haven't.
OK, I've been walking in the evenings more, and have been taking the stairs at work every chance I can, but I don't think that's going to cut it. On September 9, I'm confident that I'm going to wake up moaning and groaning.
Yeah, I'm going into this thing with a real positive attitude, aren't I?
On September 7 I will set the alarm for a gaspingly early hour. On September 8 I will roll out of bed and into my work-out clothes and will dash the three blocks to the Community Center to start Rise and Shine Boot Camp along with Kathy and Adam.
Progress will be reported here.
Assuming I live to report it. And can type.