Wednesday, 4 May 2011

Daughter of Rambo.

Right, it's time for bootcamp again!  Unfortunately Vicks is full of cold and probably shouldn’t be lying face down in the mud whilst struggling to breathe. Result -I'm down one motivational partner and the other hasn't replied to my text.

Dilemma.  Snoozing in a cosy, warm, snugly bed or jumping jacks on a frosty field.

Potentially on my own? 


I play the game of hitting snooze 4 times. Each time sticking my leg a little further out of its cocoon and into the clearly Baltic weather conditions howling round my bedroom! 

I make it to the park with only moments to spare and the jolly Scouse body builder training man is ready to put us through our paces. More jumping up and down, star jumps, lunges, plank positions, and this time just for extra fun, we have to get down on our hands and knees in the plank position. What’s the plank position? Well,  basically this - get into a press up, keep your back and arms straight, try and stay there for as long as you can, that’s it, well sort of. We then throw water bottles to each other to test our core strength. This seems kind of pointless as people are straining themselves to reach for the bottles and no one is taking it too seriously. I'm not in the least impressed when my water bottle ends up in dog poo. I’m starting to wish I'd stayed in bed. 

Time for a 'game', yay!  We are told to get into two lines, which proves to be a lot harder than you'd think. Once this motley crew have, after much shuffling and debate, managed to form the lines, we are alternately told to form either the plank position or a wide legged squat. I feel happy and a little smug that I am given the squat position, my elbows and definitely my tummy muscles have had enough of the plank for one day. Then the last person on each side has to leap over the planks and crawl through the squatting legs. Doesn't that sound like fun? As I wait in my squat position, my legs start to wobble and I suddenly remember that I'm just five foot tall and so my 'wide leg squat' isn't going to be as 'wide' as that of a taller person. I'm quietly wondering if this might be a problem, when a 6 foot tall and 6 foot wide man tries to squeeze through - I go flying through the air in slow motion to fall bottom first in particularly muddy patch. Fun?  Hmmm. I can think of another word for it! 

On the other side of the field is the BMF group (British Military Fitness for those of you not down with the kids!). They look all shiny and organised which is appealing to me. They also have coloured bibs. I don't have a bib. Why don't I have a bib? What are the bibs for? What do the different colours mean? I want a bib. I find myself transfixed by how disciplined they are! None of the girls are doing their hair or gossiping whilst a harassed and stressed out instructor tries to get them moving. These bib covered fitness freaks are too busy crawling on their hands and knees and running in circles and carrying weighted back packs! 

I look around at the undisciplined, non-bib wearing rabble I’m with and at my dog poo smeared water bottle and sigh. Even so, there are things I like about the bootcamp and I will finish the course. New experiences and trial and error is the point of all this and indeed half the fun of trying all these different types of exercise. I like the fresh air and the fact that once I'm here my Sunday has started with a bang .I know I'll have energy for the rest of the day and will totally be allowed an extra roast potato with dinner tonight.  I like pretending I'm well 'ard. I picture myself Rambo style in combats with black marks on my cheekbones blowing things up and then, wait…what…who? 

There’s a man lurking in the bushes! 

I thought this kind of thing didn't really happen and certainly not at 11am on a Sunday morning!  There in the wooded section is a man wearing a waxed jacket and flat cap, watching us all grunt and strain and stretch. 

Being very English and polite we don't yell,  “Oi! Get out of the bushes you Filthy Pervert”.  Instead we cluck and tut to each like a brood of hens, trying to express our disapproval without actually saying anything . I look over again, he has realised that his furtive behaviour has been noticed and obviously feeling outfoxed, is now trying to stretch and squat with us as if interested in taking part in the class. 

I'm bemused to find that I don't find this man’s behaviour offensive, what’s troubling me is the thought that he might be getting something out of the class without paying for it!