Monday, August 29, 2011

How I Became Stupid

It's 7:22am. I've been awake since 4am, and slept fitfully before that. But the reason I woke up at 4am was because I set the alarm. Yes.

I set the alarm for 4am, brushed my teeth and hair and pulled on stretchy comfy clothes, then rode my bike in the dark to attend f%@king bootcamp. I almost fell asleep on the bike ride home.

In my bike panniers were: a yoga mat (which I didn't use), a bottle of water (which did get used), my purse ('cuz every woman needs a bag stuffed full of useless shit while doing calisthenics until you pant, growl and just generally feel like you're going to pass out), and ... wait for it ... two five pound dumb-bells. Don't *you* carry dumb-bells in your bike panniers?

Serious headsmack.

So why did I ride my bike instead of driving? 'Cuz it's frickin' less than two miles from my house and I feel lame driving for that little difference.

On the way to the lacrosse fields at the UofO (where we exercised this morning at 4:45am!) the weights threw me off balance a little bit. Sort-of like when you have a trail-a-bike hooked up to your bike and your 4 1/2 year old likes to wiggle back and forth while you pedal not only your ass, but his, five miles to his day care center. BUT. On the way back - (insert expletive.)

Let's just say that the setting on my bike gears went down to 3 at one point. (Or maybe several points.) And both the campus and my downtown apartment are on flat ground.

So what does pretend boot camp look like? (Just so you know, I actually did go to real boot camp the summer of 1996. As in The United States Army.)

Warm-ups that include anything that makes you sweaty. Half way down the field and back. Lunges, skipping, backwards cycling (totally dumb), grapevines. Then push-ups, and jumping jacks, and squats and other weird exercises whose invention only serves to torture.


more squats
more jumping jacks
something called spastic cheerleader (I think)
those criss-cross jumping jacks (I just accidentally typed humping jacks. Now THAT would be worth going to boot camp for. Even if you only watched.)
more push-ups
bear crawls.

Let me tell you about bear crawls.

I'm on my hands and feet crouched over like -- duh -- a bear. And I walk on all fours (hands and feet -- remember -- not hands and knees, 'cuz that would be too easy); we all go across the width of the field. But my butt can't be too high in the air, or the "drill sergeant" yells. And did I mention that the field was covered in turf? My palms are red and raw.

We did bear crawl, like, four times! Well, possibly only three, but it felt like *ten*, so four evens it out. At one point the "drill sergeant" said, "Why do I have you do these?" And I yelled out all boot-campy, "HUMILIATION, SIR!" Everybody laughed. Maybe that was my purpose today. To make my fellow insane boot-campers laugh. 'Cuz the original reason I went (to look better in my jeans, to have more energy, all that other healthy crap that just means you have ... uh ... stamina -- for the important stuff in life) didn't happen today.

In fact, I actually thought that after today's workout, I would bike home at 6am, make myself a protein shake, shower and be ready to start my day at 7am. Pumped, ready for action!

What a crock.

First of all, I didn't leave straight up at 6am. I fell over on the field. Next, I got lost on campus and biked aimlessly for about ten minutes. Then I got home and made my dizzy ass a protein shake -- with a peach and a banana in it, too, for good measure. (It was a little too thick, like drinking pudding. I don't advise it.)

Now it's 8am and I DON'T feel pumped up, ready for action. I feel shivery cold (from the sweat still on my body, I guess), so I'm in a hoody sweatshirt -- hood up -- and a wool blanket over my lap. I'm exhausted, like to the point of crying, but not, and I think my period is going to start today. And I still have to go to work later. Waitressing.

So maybe I'll take a nap.
I've a long day ahead of me.


God help me.

I think I'm going back to boot camp tomorrow morning.

Maybe I'll take that ibuprofen after all.

And use that damn foam roller.

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