Thanksgiving Body Boot Camp..AKA...Will Lynley Survie to See Saturday?

Where were you at 5:40am this morning?

Me...well, I was holding a very large exercise ball over my head. A ball that I would hold over my head for 4.5 minutes before letting it go (and be forced to do 20 push-ups as my "punishment"...which I happily did in exchange for being able to put that ball down).

Seems that this week I have found myself at Thanksgiving Body Boot Camp. This sounded like a fabulous idea two weeks ago when I signed up for the class. I figured a rigorous work-out for an hour each morning this week would really jump-start my fitness regimen just in time to eat mounds of Turkey and Dressing next Thursday (What? You don't call your workouts a "regimen"? You really should. It sounds much better than, "I walked two miles yesterday and threw some weights around."). Besides, I am typically at the gym at 5:30am anyway, why not participate in the class?

Yesterday morning as I was on my one hundredth+ lunge (while doing overhead presses with a weighted bar) I questioned this whole notion of "jump starting my fitness regimen".

This morning as I was crawling, on my back, with ten pound weights in hand...I decided that I should no longer be allowed to make decisions for myself, because obviously I am a fool.

Tomorrow morning I will likely be looking down longingly at the comfy treadmill, as I run the assigned three miles, stopping only to participate in "centers" that will either strengthen or destroy my abdominal and glute muscles.

Thanksgiving Body Boot Camp is no holiday, my friend.

I am a relatively healthy person and live an active lifestyle. I work out regularly. I attempt to eat healthy (despite the fact that Tobe and I consumed queso at two different restaurants on Saturday night). Boot Camp at my gym should be a feasible task.

Yesterday morning as all the participants were gathering, eager to start our work-out, I sized up the room. With the exception of maybe one or two people, I was the youngest in attendance. Having taken several classes by this instructor (some while I was eight months pregnant) I knew to expect challenging tasks, lots of ab work, and that there would be no cutesy routines (Thank Heavens. Doing "The Grapevine" while jumping over a plastic step is not my forte.). I was relatively confident in my ability to not completely make an idiot of myself. I noticed one of the participants was at least 60, if not older, and I immediately thought, "I can at least do as well as she can."

Apparently not.

Seems Ms. 60 Year Old runs marathons for fun and is currently recovering from surgery. Taking Boot Camp is part of her recovery.

I have three more days of boot camp left, plus one day next week (On an adrenaline high yesterday morning after class, I signed up..and paid.. for the "Emergency Session" which occurs Tuesday morning at a local park. I am now praying for some type of Thanksgiving blizzard to blow through Monday evening and am silently cursing The Weather Channel's prediction of a cool 65 degree day.). This morning, Evelyn and I had to run by the post office to mail something after depositing Isaac off at preschool. Apparently I crimped E.'s style by insisting that she hold my hand when we exited the building. Despite the fact that she had put on quite the fashion show minutes before as she lifted her red Mary Jane-clad foot up for people saying, "Shoe. Co-dor. Red. (Meaning: Shoe. Color. Red.)" the child fell the floor in a screaming heap of toddler. This is not the first time our precious daughter has thrown herself on the floor in public and I have had to scoop her up and rush to the car....however it was the first time she has done it after Mommy spent an hour this morning torturing her perfectly good arms.

I lifted that 25 pound crying mass of little girl up, praying my arms would not fail me before I made it to the safety of our car.

I wonder if Ms. 60 Year Old can do that....