Six and a half weeks ago, I had my second abdominal surgery in six months. For the previous six months, I had days were I couldn't even get out of bed. Just thinking about exercise made me wince. After my second surgery, I was assured my problems were fixed. After a few days of lying around my house nursing a very sore tummy and incisions, my mom said it was time to get moving. At first I could only walk as far as the stop sign about a quarter mile down the street from my house, and that took me a good 40 minutes or so to complete. But every day, I started walking a little bit more and a little bit more, pushing myself to go a little bit faster every time.
Two weeks after the operation, my doctor gave me the all clear to do whatever exercise I wanted at the four week mark. So naturally, after being an involuntary couch potato for six months and being a few weeks out from surgery, I think, "I know what I'll do to get back into shape. I'll do a boot camp!!!" Because you know, it's just a hop, skip and a jump from doing nothing and having your tummy cut open to pushing 150 pound sleds up and down a soccer field.
I showed up to my first day of bootcamp and within, oh, five second, I thought, "Holy hell what did I get myself in to?!" The camp is run by an amazing instructor who has waaaaaay too much energy for 6am. She doesn't walk anywhere, she sprints. I had half a mind to tell her Lloyd Dobler Say Anything Style: "DUDE. YOU MUST CHILL." Now I just want whatever drug she's on.
Boot camp had us running laps around a soccer field, doing jumping jacks, push ups, jump rope, playing with kettle bells, Bosu balls, and all sorts of stuff I have not done since I was 8 years old in elementary school. We had to do a running challenge around the soccer field and I came in a good minute behind the rest of the group. I felt like the kid who would be picked last in dodgeball. The next day, I could barely move.
I honestly thought about dropping out. For better or worse though, I'm a very proud and stubborn person. After having boasted to about half the people I knew that I was starting a boot camp, I would have been embarrassed to quit. So I stuck with it. I started running on my own so that I wouldn't feel like this kid when the two lap challenge came around. I reminded myself that my brother was a professional athlete in the NFL and my twin sister runs half marathons. I could do this too! The next time the run challenge came around, I shaved over 45 seconds off my time. I took off even more the next time the run challenge came around.
This is the last week of this round of bootcamp and I managed to push this machine loaded with 70 extra pounds (so 145 pounds total) up and down a portion of the soccer field in 3:44--the second fastest time for the group. Then I rolled around on the field for a good three minutes groaning in pain. Whatever, I did it.
I'm officially addicted to bootcamp. Hoo Rah.
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