My name is Caroline and my I are brown like dirt I love waffals my hair is brown but it is as tangled as a rats nests. My nose is as small as a mouse. My cheacks are the roses on a bush but sometimes I am pail. My moth is a wet pool. And I love reses and my faverate food is macaroni. I am as cool as a dog.
By the way, Day 4 of Burn Bootcamp and it hurts to type this. Jesus take the wheel.
My niece recently talked me into attending Burn Bootcamp. It’s ironic because a new franchise opened up not too far from our house and I started the registration process a couple of weeks ago, but didn’t finish because…. well, because I was procrastinating, okay? When Stephanie brought it up to me, I knew it was an angel of the Lord talking to me and saying ‘Melissa. Get your butt to bootcamp’. Or. Maybe it was the devil seeing as how this class snuck up on me and whooped my hind end.
My first class was yesterday at 8:30am. The child care option did it for me. That, along with the fact that no men are in that early class. Well, except for that Billy Banks-type trainer man, but whatever. Turns out I need him there to boss me around.
Anyway, here are the Five Stages of I Can Bootcamp.
IGNORANT SELF CONFIDENCE: As I drove the 15 minutes to the You’re Gonna Croak Over Today Class, I was thinking that this would be nothing. The location is actually right across the street from where JoJo and I often go running. I figured this was perfect because when the bootcamp didn’t burn enough calories, when I didn’t walk out sweaty, when there was no heavy breathing or vomit afterwards, my drive to town wouldn’t be a waste of time because I could just zip across the street and do my 3-4 miles. Pffft. This is going to be easy.
FEAR OF POOPING IN PUBLIC: I arrived a few minutes early because I knew I needed to get Josie to childcare and I also had to sort out the whole checking-in process. As soon as I parked my car…I mean RIGHT AS I PULLED IN THE SPACE…I spotted some victims walking out of the building. Apparently there’s an Earlier Than Eight Thirty Class. They were hobbling a teesy bit. Their faces were purple-ish and they were leaving puddles of sweat in the parking lot as they waddled to their cars. One lady was patting another lady’s shoulder and giving her that you lived, but barely sympathetic look. I started to have the nervous poop feeling. Oh you know. That one. The actual one you hear about in the side effects list on commercials. This was going to go badly. I felt how Allison felt back when we went to Disney and rode the Scary Rides. Bless.
THERE WAS MUSIC?: So the music in there is LOUD. I could hear it from my car. With my windows up. I have a wee bit of a problem with loudness (makes me a bit overly stressed out. Yes I am aware that the parent to kid ratio in my home doesn’t help my sensitivity to noise), but I decided that the high decible level would work to my advantage. That way nobody would be able to actually realize that I had the unmedicated nervous poops. Stephanie (my niece) said I would LOVE IT because of the music. “It’s loud! And the music is really good. It helps get you pumped up and makes it fun”. Hmm. That’s funny. I wasn’t able to focus the music AT ALL because mostly I was just focused on STAYING ALIVE.
THIS IS THE END: Let me say that when you’re huffing and puffing during the EVER LOVING WARM UP?! You for sure gonna have problems breathing for the next 45 minutes. Fifteen minutes in and I was looking around for an oxygen tank. Will it drop from the ceiling? Do I assist my neighbor before using my own mask? I wonder if the trainer’s CPR certification is up to date. I wonder why I didn’t bring water. Or an inhaler. Cot maybe? Are even my ANKLES sweating? And I PAID this company to beat the crap out of me right now? I need to sit down. NOPE. He’s yelling stuff. Back up I go.
Dear Lord, make me a bird so I can fly far far away….
DON’T LOOK IN MY GENERAL DIRECTION: And for the love of Richard Simmons do NOT try and high five me. Mr. Trainer Man wants me to congratulate someone at the end of this mess. Uh. NO?! I didn’t come here to make friends. My only goal here is to stay alive, Buddy. By this point my hands are literally shaking. My legs? Jello pudding. My entire body is melting into the floor like The Bad Witch and even my socks are dripping wet. MY SOCKS, PEOPLE. Again, I start to wonder if anyone in the room can help me when I pass out. It was intense.
But! Guess what?
I went back again this morning.
And Sweet Mary Mother of Tae Bo does my butt hurt. I am having a difficult time just sitting down to pee. I’ll probably have to sleep sitting up tonight because once I’m down I doubt I can rise again. Not to mention the effort my belly (I know. It’s called abs, but I don’t have those things. I have an actual belly.) will have to put forth to get me vertical.
I mean. It is one big crazy train to Workout Town, but dang if I’m not going back tomorrow, too.
Maybe I should take a few hits off of Allison’s inhaler before I leave.