Boot What?

My understanding of Boot PMAC is that it's a military program based on separating the boys from the men and then turning said boys into men through grueling, death defying exercises. Right?

So why in the hell would I sign up for something called Boot Camp?

I'll tell you why.  Peer Pressure.  

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A few weeks ago, my "friend" Mary (and I use the term friend lightly, as she is the one who roped me into this hell) said to me, "Hey, let's do boot pmac."  

I said, "Okay.  As long as it doesn't involve running or humiliating public weigh-ins, I'll do it."  (You all know why I said yes.  No way did I want Mary gettin' all hot and skinny.  Not without me.)

So, boot pmac looms ahead.  The instructor suggests we do some push up and crunches every night to get ready.  I talk myself into it twice, as I am in total denial of what is to come.

After a sleepless night filled with anxiety about being the fattest girl in the class, I get to boot camp to find out, that not only am I the fattest.  I am probably the youngest.  Great, this is just a real dream come true.  

 Josh, (our 21 year old instructor) says, "Let's start off with a light jog."  Of course we should jog, as my personal version of hell involves some kind of constant marathon.  Next, maybe I'll get to write my weight on my forehead.  In black sharpie.  Yippy.

After the jog, which I finished last,  (dead last.  like a 55 year old women finished before me last. )  we start the rotations.  These involve all kinds of positions and muscles I haven't used since the 1990's.  And, I must look really bad, because Josh's assistant (a very nice forty something lady with arms to die for) reminds me to breath. Like six different times.  Really, it's that bad.

At the end of class, Josh encourages us to journal everything we eat (which I am going to choose to interpret to mean everything I eat while sitting down) and our weekly weight so the other class members can hold us accountable.  Perfect, just what I was hoping for.

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So, that first, horrific class was Monday.  I was going to post this then, but waited, just in case I decided to quit. 

Now that I have dragged my ass to three classes, I am thrilled to say I love it.

I love the feeling of pushing myself.  The commradary in the group as we hold on for 10 more seconds in "plank" position.  The hope that one day I will have that old body back.  The body that used to get me up a flight of stairs easily.  The body that wasn't too tired to play.  The body that looked great in a bikini (well maybe not a bikini, as stretch marks have rendered that impossible).  

The body that will carry me safely through the next 5 decades.

So, if you have been thinking about getting back into shape, here is a little peer pressure.  This time next year, I am going to be totally hot.  Are you?