Tag Archives: bootcamp

Shit That Happens in Bootcamp Should Stay at Bootcamp. Until Now.

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I’ve been attending the same Bootcamp for close to four years, now.   It’s been a great experience for me and I’ve learned quite a bit.  I now have a new appreciation for exercise and the complexities that it contains.  I appreciate good form and I am more self-aware.  There is another side to class that no one talks about…

Let’s face it, shit goes down when you start moving your body in ways that you never could have imagined possible.  Naturally, as a woman of a certain age, bodily functions can go a little…astray….and, at the least opportune time. 

Here is a Top Ten list of Shit that happened to me during Bootcamp class that should never happen to anybody.  Ever. 

10) Wayward Assistance-   This occurred in the first year of class and I was a newbie in dressing in those tight pants.  I erroneously went on-line and adhered to advice given by a twenty-something about not wearing underwear under the tights.  That way no panty-lines!  Yay! I thought.  Also at this time, I was a bit…leaky.  I’ve had three children.  I was nearing fifty, please.  I wore ‘assisted’ apparel for my lady bits so if any ‘leaking’ happened, I was prepared.  So, I stuck one of those babies to my tights.  No undies, remember?  Fast forward to half-way through class and my ‘assisted’ gear had traveled.  Holy fucking God it had unstuck from my tights and traveled down my leg to the inside of my knee!  I distinctly remember doing jumping lunges with that thing stuck to the inside of my leg and thinking “well, at least it will absorb my knee sweat…”  I walked out of class with it still stuck to the inside of my leg and wondered if anyone noticed that my right leg looked a little…thick.

9) Braille boards are a good idea – I can’t see shit when I remove my glasses.  I don’t wear my glasses in class and for four years I haven’t been able to read the nice little whiteboards the Coach places at each station.  I’m getting better at watching what others do before I get to that station…or I improvise until Coach corrects me.  I look like Mr. Magoo for most of the class. 

8)  What’s that smell?  –  Good diets + ab workouts = explosions that inevitably happen.  It’s a good thing the music is loud and it brings a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Explosive’ Stars… Ventilation.  Good ventilation….

7) My hip doesn’t do that.  Ever. – I have arthritis in my left hip and it just doesn’t want to move on some days.  Sumo squats become semi-sumo with a little squat for good measure.  I fake it mostly….

6) Remember what? – With new exercises comes new things to remember.  I’m still trying to remember what day it is, let alone an exercise that I’m going to get around to in fifteen minutes.  Let’s be real.  I’ll watch but then forget and then make something up that kinda resembled what she showed us at 5:50 Goddamn AM when my brain was still back in my bed and my coffee was calling my name.  AND NOW WITH THE MICROPHONE, I CAN’T TELL WHERE SHE IS IN THE fucking ROOM AND I CAN’T GET AWAY WITH IT AS MUCH.   Just sayin’…

5)  Sweat is normal – Come on, it’s the body’s natural expression of “FOR FUCK’S SAKE LADY WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!  I’M LITERALLY CRYING NOW.  FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY PLEASE STOP!”   This is how I imagine my body reacts to me working out.  It’s crying and is begging for me to stop.  And then I look around and some of the ‘younger’ ladies and somehow, they haven’t even broken a sweat, yet.  I KNOW IT’S ONLY BEEN TEN MINUTES.  BUT IT’S BEEN TEN MINUTES!  How are you not sweating right now?  Yes, that’s my butt mark on the floor.  You. Are. Welcome.

4) That’s not crotch sweat- I refer you to #1 and sometimes leakiness is a part of sweatiness and we older ladies are keeping it classy by referring to it as ‘The Lady Trickles.”  Feel free to print that on a t-shirt.  

3) Hair floor catastrophes- What’s with all the spare-hair on the floor?  I’ll tell you what- your hair falls out after working out so much.  It’s trying to escape the pain.  My hair is contained most of the time, but some days it has a mind of its own and can’t control its excitement for Burpees…

2) Apparatus mysteries – I get tangled up in the TRX.  I call the exercises that are complex and compound “Half pike with an explosive star extravaganza” because I can’t remember the appropriate name nor how my arm is supposed to reach then stretch then do that bicep mid-air curl with a half-twist…thing.  Yeah. 

1) I’ve fallen and I can kinda get up but only because you shamed me into it.  Bitch – I say that with the utmost affection and gratitude.  Maybe.  Most days I would never get up off the floor but I see everyone else doing Deadman Burpees from Hell and I think, “Dafuq are you Queens doing?  FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STAY DOWN!  STAY DOWN!”  But no….EVERYBODY gets back up and they do it all over again.  Ugh. 

That’s it.  That’s the list.  I hope it brought a smile and we can all get real with our bad-selves and Lizzo our way through the rest of our workouts. 

At least, that’s my goal…

And This Little Piggy Went Wee-What-The-Actual-Fuck?

Posted in Misguided Musings by
    A couple of months ago, I underwent a bunionectomy.  If you are unsure as to what that is exactly, its day surgery to remove a bunion from a foot.  In my case, it was a big bunion from my left foot.  It’s been an interesting few months of recovery. 

    My surgery was back in May and I won’t sugarcoat anything.  Ireferred to my surgeon as the MotherfuckigantiChrist more often than I care to admit. He warned me several times pre-surgery that it would be “painful and you are going to swear on me repeatedly.”  I smiled and said, “I’ve had three babies all natural, the last one ten pounds.  I got this.”  He smiled in response.  Now, I know why. 

    I remained in bed for four days following the surgery and had it not been for Hubby serving me food, coffee, and pain killers, it would have resulted in me rising from my bed and crawling to the window to throw myself to the mercy of rabid dogs.  Yeah, it was painful.

    I hobbled around and was finally able to descend stairs on a Tuesday.  I remember it well, since I was afraid of falling and scuttled down on my butt the entire time.  I used Hubby’s cane he had stowed away after his knee surgery.  It was going swimmingly, until my right knee decided it wanted some sympathy too, and erupted in bursitis.  Now, I was really down.  A bum left foot and a right knee that screamed every time I bent it.  

    I couldn’t walk up the stairs, I couldn’t stand for long periods and I could barely walk.  I needed crutches, a wheelchair, and a shirtless Spaniard named Marco feeding me grapes.  None of which, I had at my disposal.   

    My main mode of transportation was my ass.  Good thing it was large and squishy.  It made travelling a lot more comfortable.  Oh, yeah.  The entire time, I had a large pin jutting from my middle toe, which made for interesting conversation and people largely exclaiming ‘EWWW’ whenever I mentioned it.  

    By June, I was thankfully over the bursitis and off my ass, so I asked Coach if I could return to Bootcamp .  I still had a little sandle/boot on my foot and I still had the lovely pin protruding from my toe, but I thought I could modify my way through.  She gave me the nod and my first class was interesting.  She refused to look downward lest she gazed upon the ‘pin-of–evil’ and I hopped my way through every exercise.  I have to admit, I was doubtful I would manage, but I wanted to try.  I was so over the whole sitting–down–and–‘resting’ thing.  

    I muddled my way through everything she had planned and by the end of June I was hobbling on over to the MotherfuckingantiChrist himself to the have the ‘pin–of–evil’ removed from my toe.  

    Pin Removal Day, or as people tagged it, HolyFuckingMotherofGodThat’sGonnaHurt Day, was uneventful.  Everyone asked “Is he gonna sedate you for that?” or “Are you taking Ativan for that?” to which I had to answer a shaky “Noooo…why do you think I should?”  Their looks of disbelief and head-shaking told me I should probably pop a few pain relievers.  MotherfuckingantiChrist assured me that I indeed would “not feel it as much as you did when the stitches were removed.”   

    The stitch removal was a pain only reserved for those who have wronged the Saints in Heaven and have sided with Satan in a murderous plot to fling babies from rooftops.  That was some serious painful shit.  Hubby was there when I grabbed his leg in agony and swore relentlessly.  D1 the nurse, was horrified by my cry-babyness.  “Mom, EVEN THE CHILDREN I CARE FOR, DON’T CRY.”  Love you too, honey.  I digress.

    I entered the room to have MotherfuckingantiChrist prepare to pull the pin-of-evil from my toe with nothing more than a pair of tiny scissors and an expression of, “Hold still.”  I squeezed my eyes shut and muttered “For fuck’s sake,” recalling every word of caution and regretting the non-pain–killer–popping.  I felt a little tug and the pin was out.  Done. 

    His retorts of, “I would never lie to you,” echoing the ever-popular “I told you so,” were still ringing in my head by the time I walked out of the room.  I sauntered out into the hospital corridor free of the pin-of-evil and feeling like I had just conquered Kim Jong-un in some sadistic tug-of-war.  

    Now, a month later the boot is off and I’m almost fully mobile.  I can do some cardio but still do the majority of bootcamp on one leg.  My middle toe is still tender.  Cut me some slack, will ‘ya?  

    My escapade into bunion surgery is almost to an end and thank Gawwwwddddd.  It’s been a long road and I’m almost fully healed.  

    In the meantime, there’s wine for that and to MotherfuckingantiChrist, thanks for telling me the truth.  I WILL NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.  

Cheers!  

 

 

Drunk Humans

Posted in Misguided Musings by

 

Today has been a weird day.  From beginning to mid-afternoon the fleeting ramblings of the select few have left the innocuous bumbling around looking for alcohol.  Or, we have already succumbed, hence the drunk burpees at bootcamp and the falling into desks at work.  I should  just go ahead and take a nip or five before jumping into a TRX move or diving into mid-term exams to see how that all plays out for me.  I’m thinking a whole lot of bruising and maybe a broken finger or toe, at the very least.  

Nobody likes a giddy drunkard as much as me, hell I’ve BEEN that giddy drunkard, but the Universe has decided to crank it up a notch.  Oh, she has decided to put the people who are TOTALLY STONE COLD SOBER in charge of shit and just rearrange the furniture while she’s at it.  Seriously?  The drunks are falling off boxes and bumping into shit, saying ‘who the hell put that there?’ and telling others to move out of the way.  We are all now completely hammered thanks to the ire of oneMenopausal Universe who is pissed that humans are shitty at being human.  

People are reacting to the volatility of the economy, the evil of politics and the cost of humanity at the hands of invalids who refuse to consider the other side.  No wonder everyone is a little drunk and a little fed up with life.  We need a break.  The Universe has decided she’s had it with your crap and is throwing her hands up in the air in Motherly exasperation.  She’s now made a deal with the Weather Gods. In exchange for some Polar Vortex Air, or what she refers to as ‘Watch While We Freeze The Shit Out of This’, SHE gets to ram as much fool-hearted stupidity in the way of the logical few to see how we like that!    

Now the total gambit of weather-related-crap is about to descend upon us.  I’m not just talking a bit o’ snow, which for us elicits a response of  “OH YEAH, WHAT ELSE YA GOT?!”, but now it’s freezing rain for HOURS, followed by snow, then rain and eventually something calmer like 100km/h winds which should couple elegantly with a nice Merlot. 

Should one choose to remain sober and NOT drink through the next few years, I suggest perhaps assisting a friend through the difficulties of tying her shoes and brushing her hair.  Maybe offer a hand while she’s cooking dinner simultaneously wiping a snotty nose and throwing the laundry into the washer?  No?  How about some kindness for the kid who totally ignored the basic golden rule of  STOP PICKING YOUR NOSE IN PUBLIC by passing him a tissue, or for the person who just can’t deal by offering a hand.  It’s a tough gig being a human.  Let’s try to move along the slow lane and keep all of the drunk people happy and upright.  Let’s share a smile and a positive thought on the way to the job that sucks or for the guy that’s annoying as hell.  

It’s our job.  If you’re not up for that, then just pass the bottle and keep it coming.  Humanity depends on it.

And The Universe?  SHE’S JUST TOO BUSY FOR YOUR SHIT.

If I Could Read, I Wouldn’t Need Help. Also Wine

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The winds are blowing heavy today; my brain seems to be melting in the heat and I’m having difficulty concentrating on anything longer than three words.  At least, that’s what I’m saying.  “It’s all of this heat.  I’m not used to it” when really, it’s all of this old age and peri-menopause crap that’s beginning to break down my will to exist with patience and some semblance of logic.  Intelligence has taken a back seat to convenience and I’m having a hard time concentrating.  It’s like I’m four years old all over again and if someone could constantly feed me and keep me entertained, I’m happy.  Piss me off and take away my favourite toy and watch out!

You better have a stick of chocolate in that other hand or I may punch you in the throat.

Coach put out a notice of how the new payment system is going down. I SWEAR TO GAWD I READ IT.  I really did.  I think.  Today, I spoke like I knew what I was talking about, because my erroneous brain decided I DID KNOW WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT.  I knew shit.  I got it all wrong.  IF I HAD READ THE ENTIRE PASSAGE I PROBABLY WOULD BE ABLE TO DECIPHER THINGS BETTER.  She may need to post stuff in all caps.  Or be more sarcastic.  Or have a caption that read WINE, and then proceed to print things in clear concise point form without all of the flowery language of using proper grammar

and words like “the” and “and”.  Ugh

Today’s post of PLEASE READ was okay, but she really should have specified it to be PLEASE READ then below that heading, have “AND WINE”.  That would get peoples’ attention.  At least the fifty-somethings like me would have shit to look forward to and not aimlessly read without concentrating on the actual context of the message.  We would be reading to get to the good part about the wine…IS THERE WINE?  Oh, look I have to actually pay her…IN WINE?  THAT WOULD BE AWESOME.  EVERYBODY PAY IN WINE!!!  WHO WAS THE BRILLIANT PERSON WHO CAME UP WITH THAT?!

Nevermind.  That’s how I would decipher the entire message.  YOU HAVE TO PAY COACH AT THE END OF JULY IN WINE.  I READ IT.  ALL OF IT AND THAT’S WHAT IT SAID. NOW, DON’T BOTHER ME I NEED TO EAT MY CHOCOLATE.  DANCE, HEATHEN!   DANCE!

I also have issues with deciding if I should wear pants, so really, I should be excused from answering questions and deciphering texts.

Ps.  Dear Boss, if you want to pay me in wine, I’d be okay with that.  Thanks!  KJ

Just Breathe

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I was in my bootcamp class today, mid-mountain climbers, and realized I was holding my breath.  “Oh, Gawd BREATHE”.

It’s not the first time during exercising I’ve had to remind myself to breathe.  I often find myself holding my breath doing whatever it is, then realize that turning blue in class is probably not a good idea.  Also, being passed out on the floor would likely be frowned upon…not to mention a tad embarrassing.  “HEY COACH, WHY IS SHE LYING DOWN?!  IS THIS A NEW BURPEE MOVE WE DON’T KNOW ABOUT?!”  Then, everyone would be pissed and trying to do the new move that’s really not new, I’m just PASSED OUT THANKS, BUT DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME.  Now, I’ve taken to telling myself to breathe before class starts and whenever I find myself getting too caught up in an exercise.  It’s also a good idea to remind oneself to BREATHE during the day, even when not doing Burpees x 100, or face down doing plank jacks.

It’s not something that one should forget easily, I mean, breathing is as natural as, well, breathing but today I did catch myself NOT breathing.  It got me wondering how many other times I neglect to breathe during simple things and should be more self-aware.  Like, do I forget to breathe when I’m driving?  When I’m sleeping?  When I’m working?  HOW DOES SOMEBODY FORGET TO BREATHE?!  It’s ridiculous, really.  It’s like saying “Oh, I forgot to eat today.”  THAT NEVER HAPPENS TO ME.  Or, I FORGOT TO BUY WINE.  If that happens, I’m sure to be headed for the home.  So how does something so basic, so part of BEING HUMAN, be forgotten?

I guess it’s in line with so many other basic nuances of being a person that gets shoved aside during a busy day or week or life.  We forget to appreciate a warm day, a smile from someone we haven’t seen in a while, or a hot cup of coffee.  We forget what being little is like or that being a teen is dramatic and exhausting, and being a young adult can be scary.  We forget that not so long ago, the internet was new and exciting technology and playing hide and seek outside was the ONLY thing we did that was fun.  We forget that the simple act of walking is a gift many of us cannot enjoy and that living and breathing every day, is our greatest joy. We forget the basic simplicity of being human; the basic everyday pleasure of being alive and breathing.

Trying to be mindful and self-aware takes practice; one that I am in need of, obviously.  I read that a simple deep breath can calm your system down and give you the much needed oxygen to your brain to enhance those thinking cells and good vibrations.  It releases bad toxins and gets some much needed space to feel rejuvenated and refreshed.  A simple deep breath can do all of that.  Huh.

So can a bottle of wine, but usually drinking at one’s place of employment is not looked upon favourably.  AND, side plank with a sip-dip, anyone?  Yeah.  New exercise.  BYOB…

I have to try to remember to just breathe through all of that negativity people throw around like, “You’re doing that wrong” or “You should really rethink that shirt” or “Giving people the finger through their office door is not the professional behaviour we expect of you.”

IT WAS ONLY ONE TIME AND I FORGOT I HADN’T HAD A BREATH IN A WHILE.

GAAAWWWWDDDDD.

I’m going to go take a few deep breaths, now and appreciate that I CAN.

And open that wine…

Sip and breathe, and sip and breathe….

Me. After wine.