Unless you've been holded up watching episodes of Oprah that you Tivoed in April, chances are you've seen the signs for various 'boot camps' around town. I hear it's serious business. Usually anything with the word camp would be a good thing. Think about it...Girl Scout camp.Art camp.Football camp.Boot camp? Unless we're spending it trying on new foot fashions for the fall season, not interested.So last night, I went walking with a friend of mine, a feat in itself because it was my first official workout in MONTHS. Not exactly something to brag about, but the year was not a good one, so I focused on the basics...family, work, showering, you know.My friend in the neighborhood first suggested we 'walk' a couple of weeks ago and I agreed. How hard could it be? Left, right, left, right, you get the idea. I do that every day. But, girlfriend meant business. She began a stride that told me this was no casual walk, we were powerwalking, and this wasn't the time to admire the landscaping or gripe about the color of someone's shutters.I'm pretty sure I was panting after the first 5 minutes, kinda like my black lab on an 90-degree day. The girl's got stamina, not to mention willpower since she awakens before her kids step on the bus to work out, meanwhile I was anticipating the ice cream bar I would devour once this walk business was over. That's not to say I didn't enjoy the conversation, the girl talk, the laughter, though my stories may have been hard to comprehend in between the gasps for what I swore would be my last breath.Still, I owe it to Robyn for breaking me out of my forever-long workout interim where I felt walking upstairs to sort my laundry qualified as exercise. We walked almost 50 minutes, even stopping so I could tighten my laces, which was about the time I noticed I was sweating, and then Robyn dropped the bombshell: We would wrap our calorie-burning session with lunges down an entire sidewalk.Of course we would.I followed her move, squatting my play-doh like legs and praying I would find the strength to not hug the pavement. I can only say that the walk up my stairs once I arrived home seemed more difficult than climbing the rope in gym class and I collapsed on my bed. One day later, I'm feeling the results and figure this beats any boot camp I could have joined.And it's certainly better than watching Oprah.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
pansies need not apply
Unless you've been holded up watching episodes of Oprah that you Tivoed in April, chances are you've seen the signs for various 'boot camps' around town. I hear it's serious business. Usually anything with the word camp would be a good thing. Think about it...Girl Scout camp.Art camp.Football camp.Boot camp? Unless we're spending it trying on new foot fashions for the fall season, not interested.So last night, I went walking with a friend of mine, a feat in itself because it was my first official workout in MONTHS. Not exactly something to brag about, but the year was not a good one, so I focused on the basics...family, work, showering, you know.My friend in the neighborhood first suggested we 'walk' a couple of weeks ago and I agreed. How hard could it be? Left, right, left, right, you get the idea. I do that every day. But, girlfriend meant business. She began a stride that told me this was no casual walk, we were powerwalking, and this wasn't the time to admire the landscaping or gripe about the color of someone's shutters.I'm pretty sure I was panting after the first 5 minutes, kinda like my black lab on an 90-degree day. The girl's got stamina, not to mention willpower since she awakens before her kids step on the bus to work out, meanwhile I was anticipating the ice cream bar I would devour once this walk business was over. That's not to say I didn't enjoy the conversation, the girl talk, the laughter, though my stories may have been hard to comprehend in between the gasps for what I swore would be my last breath.Still, I owe it to Robyn for breaking me out of my forever-long workout interim where I felt walking upstairs to sort my laundry qualified as exercise. We walked almost 50 minutes, even stopping so I could tighten my laces, which was about the time I noticed I was sweating, and then Robyn dropped the bombshell: We would wrap our calorie-burning session with lunges down an entire sidewalk.Of course we would.I followed her move, squatting my play-doh like legs and praying I would find the strength to not hug the pavement. I can only say that the walk up my stairs once I arrived home seemed more difficult than climbing the rope in gym class and I collapsed on my bed. One day later, I'm feeling the results and figure this beats any boot camp I could have joined.And it's certainly better than watching Oprah.
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