Boot camp

I have signed up to do a six week 'beach body boot camp'. The general reaction from around 100% of the people I've told has been "why"? I take this as a complement, clearly they think I don't need a beach body boot camp. How flattering. I'm not really sure why to be honest. I think I was on a bit of a marathon high when I signed up. The nature of the task ahead didn't really register until I got a scary email in my inbox from Mike, the instigator of this terrifying programme and actual real life Ken doll complete with tango tan and eyeliner. Some choice quotes from this email included:

"I want you to know right from the start, how much I truly want you to succeed at achieving the body you desire. Now that you know I really do care about you, it is time for me to reveal my more aggressive, “No Excuse Accepted” side. Just remember that I am unloading the can of harsh reality on you because it is for your own good."

"It’s the kick in the butt that you need right now to get you going. I promise that I will return back to my more fun loving and comforting self after the course is over. At that point I will light the fire under your butt that will lead you to unstoppable motivation and inspiration and you will thank me for opening your eyes to what has been holding you back all these years."

"There are no lame, pathetic, weak excuses about why you are overweight and unhealthy."

Aaaaaggggghhhhhhh!!!!!

Despite this I started on Monday morning at 7am. Just to fill you in, the boot camp runs for six weeks, 7am Monday to Friday, one hour a day and regular scrutiny of diet sheets and weigh ins (that's the bit for the fatties, I'm not doing the weigh ins or the diet. I'm still baking cakes, though I'm not sure Mike is fully aware of this fact yet).

All started fine, a 2 mile run on the flat - total doss, I was flying, like a fat bloke following an ice cream van. Worryingly, this was followed by a horrific British Military fitness style circuits sesh. Oh how I ached afterwards and am still aching now. My cockiness soon disappeared.

My confidence ebbed lower following two conversations. The first with Pat, a fellow boot camper. Pat is about 70, super fit with a proper Grandad tan - as my colleague remarked this morning, he's probably spent every day in the sun for the last 40 years covered in baby oil. His tan makes Mike look like the weird albino stalker from The Bodyguard. Honestly, I thought Newcastle was the tan capital of the world, not Bodmin. So anyway, Pat and I have been doing the running together. And he's actually a really lovely bloke. Post session today, the confidence sapping conversation went a little like this:

Pat: So, why are you doing this then, to tone up or lose weight?
Me: Erm...actually, I just really like exercising
Pat: How much do you weigh?
Me: Eleven stone. Always have done, hopefully always will
Pat: Yes, you've got a good pair of hips on you
Me: Well (a little stunned but suprisingly unoffended), I suppose I am a normal, pear shaped human being. I actually like to eat.
Pat: what do you eat? A lot of bread? chocolate?
Me: Not really? I eat a lot, but I eat well, lots of vegetables and stuff (blatantly lying now)
Pat: you'll probably find that you do lose a few pounds doing this. You're quite tall I suppose.
Me: Ok. erm...yes, 5"8.
Pat: bye then, see you tomorrow
Me: See ya Pat

The second such conversation came from Liz, Senior Administrator and general office Mum

Liz wanders into my office. She looks very concerned.

Liz: Are you ok?
Me: Yes, fine thanks
Liz: It's just you shuffled past the reception area earlier looking like a little old woman
Me: Oh. right. it's just, I'm doing this beach body boot camp at the moment and can't really walk.
Liz: Be careful you don't turn into one of those tiny little Russian athletes who ends up with arthritis by the age of 30 (I think she's referring to gymnasts?)
Me: Oh, I don't think there's any danger of that happening. I'm fine, really, thanks for asking.
Liz: glad you're ok. I honestly thought you were poorly.

So from one extreme to another. Pat thinks I have too much junk in my trunk, Liz is concerned that i'm wasting away and will be in a wheelchair in a couple of years.

Are they totally mad or actually is my exercise regime becoming a little extreme? For a moment, I thought about it. Then stopped worrying, because I live in Cornwall and we chill out down here. Anyway, I have four coastal trail half marathons to train for. No time for stressing.

And just in case you're wondering about that 'harsh can of reality', it's really not that bad. Mike is great - a fantastic trainer, very motivational and inspiring. Guess I am addicted...