Monday, February 16
Boot Camp, Day One:
Boot Camp has begun. It started with the "warm-up". By the time it was over I was knackered.
Then came the push-ups. Then sit-ups.
Then the prone-hold caper (despite my earlier guess, I held that significantly longer than 3sec . . . but not as long as the five minutes one fellow Boot Camper held it).
Then the standing jump number. Felt like a gammy long-jumper without the benefit of a run-up.
Then came the run. Oh, the run. How I hated every single plodding step of it.
When one has not run further than about 50m in four years, "bad" doesn't really begin to describe how it felt.
Later, told by trainer Julia Challenor I DO have abdominals. They're just hiding underneath "a layer of lifestyle". Certain there is more than one layer.
11am: Smashed into a wall of exhaustion. Barely able to lift feet off ground to walk, am shuffling around in daze.
And there's still at least six more hours of work to go.
3.04pm: Have resorted to wearing iPod to trick mind into thinking I'm full of energy.
Am waterlogged and beginning to wear the carpet out on my frequent bathroom stops.
Asked colleague if I looked thinner yet. Response "You have a rosy glow".
Tip: If I ask you if I look thinner, just say yes, even if you are lying.
3.23pm: Conclude the racehorse from the simile regarding it and ablutions is inaccurate.
The racehorse has NOTHING on me.
Tuesday, February 17
7am: It hurts to breathe.
I tried to do my hair but my arms gave out on me.
I coughed and my stomach muscles screamed in pain.
I went to put my shoes on and my legs gave out.
My walking style resembles that of a cowboy.
12.30pm: Am having a remarkably good day . . . despite the pain.
Kate Stevens says I am "dream client".
Clearly, it was a big thumbs-up on the food diary.
Have a millionteen times more energy and feeling very positive - quite a turnaround from the inherently cynical personality which has been the norm. Have also now been told by three more people I do actually have a "glow".
Turns out it's a good thing.
3.20pm: Just been to the stupidmarket to stock up on healthy stuff.
They are also keeping an eye on what I'm eating . . . feel like I'm in Big Brother.
Wednesday, February 18
3.30am: Woke up and checked clock. Dreamt I missed Boot Camp . . . and was upset. What is happening?!
6am: Boot Camp, round two. Julia Challenor sickeningly energised for this time of day, considering it's basically still night.
"Strength training." Conclude I am not strong.
As for running, unspeakable (and certainly unprintable) words were running through head every time Julia Challenor darted off like the Energizer bunny and made us chase her.
10.26am: Walking like arthritic 80-year-old.
Colleagues getting used to strange noises emanating from my office - involuntary groans and squeals every time I try to stand or sit. The only thing that doesn't hurt my fragile body is typing.
Thursday, February 19
6am: Boot Camp again. Running the length of a rugby field where trainer Simon Wilson subjects us to tortuous repetitions of squats, sit-ups and push-ups.
Simon Wilson and I were friends until 6am. By 7am, I was rethinking friendship.
Mark Wilson tells me I've conquered Boot Camp because I made it through the first week. Suspect he is lulling me into false sense of security.
7.35am: Have resorted to sitting on couch in dressing gown trying to find strength to get dressed.
Arms have ceased to function.
While attempting to wash my face, was left with little choice but to bend my head to my hands because my arms won't go above shoulder height.
And calf muscles feel like they may snap at any moment.
10.11am: Was right about false sense of security.
Mark Wilson emails next week's plan. Includes "medium cardio", a strength circuit and "hill intro".
Hills and I have already met. We don't get on. Have no desire to be reintroduced.
Mark Wilson also wants to see our food diaries next week, has the cheek to say "especially you, Tracey".
I think he thinks I'm cheating.
Impossible considering number of people monitoring my food.
11.10am: Despite immense and now indescribable pain, I am happy. Colleague just told me I look thinner (and I didn't even have to ask). Suspect this was a fib.
Also said my walk has taken on a unique and interesting style.
Could be because it hurts to bend knees.
12.56pm: Another colleague comments on walking style.
Cannot explain what was said without breaching standards of good taste.
8.30pm: I cheated.
Ate six chips on the cooler side of warm.
They were once hot, but managed to resist for 30 minutes.
Thought I did well stopping at 6.
Thought I am tragic for actually counting how many I ate.
Friday, February 20
Hands down the longest week of my life. Aside from the splitting headache I woke up with (which I suspect is caffeine withdrawal . . . I'm down to two a day), my muscles are now only squawking with pain, rather than the screaming protests of the past few days.
Normal walking style has returned, helped in no small part by the lovely Rosana from Peak Performance Massage who subjected me to cruel and unusual punishment (i.e. a massage) on legs which were like corrugated iron. After writhing on the massage table for 90 minutes, I actually felt better.
One suspects the relief is only temporary, particularly after email from Braden Lee warned "Boot Camp is going to get gradually harder and steeper from here on in".
Unspeakable, unprintable words again running through head.
For more information, visit www.bootcamps.co.nz
