Today, I took my first ever boot camp class at my gym. I've been a member for just over nine years, and my M.O. is this: get in there, get 20-30 min of good cardio, 35-45 minutes of strength, stretching at the beginning and end, and try to not speak a single word to anyone in the process. It's worked for me. I never thought of the gym as a social experience but as a place of solitary meditation through motion. And, full disclosure time, I really thought I was pushing myself when I was at the gym.
This morning, I discovered that I'd been living in a dream world.
A co-worker suggested boot camp to me last week while I was doing a total mat work out, and she'd plopped down next to me to do some core work. If you must know, the reason I was on the mat for an hour is because it was the first snow storm of the season that day, and I'd forgotten my gym shoes. (Side note: Surprisingly, the total mat work out turned out to be pretty ok, once I shook the negative attitude about forgetting my shoes.) Anyway.....she said that the Sunday morning boot camp class was great, so I said I'd give it a go.
It. Was. Brutal.
I had to ask the kid working the fitness center desk where to find boot camp class. His reply? "Do you know that's the hardest class here? Even harder than TRX." Great.
I found the room. It was conveniently situation right off the elevated track. There was a circuit of nine stations that the sweet and welcoming (but slightly overly energetic for a Sunday morning) instructor had thoughtfully planned. We worked through the circuit twice with 30 seconds at each station (she said, but it seemed closer to a minute) with other activities making a surprise appearance throughout. There was running. There was jumping rope (I hate hate hate jumping rope, because I stink at it.) There were squats (three different kinds) and walking lunges with weights. There were planks (of course). There was a plethora of abdominal exercises. We finished with stretches and a child's pose. I really wanted to just stay in that child's pose and cry for a little bit before I got up, but I didn't. Well, maybe I did.
By the time the class hour was over, I was a limp noodle with sweat dripping off the end of my nose. It was wonderful. I can't wait until next Sunday.