Hot, sweaty buns of steel

So I suppose I should give in and tell you what you're all dying to know. I've been holding out on you, I'll be honest. I mean, really. Who wants to know all the hot and sweaty details? You do? Ok.

Let's talk about boot camp. You didn't really think I was going to talk about you-know-what, did you?? Did you??????

Yep, boot camp. Two little words that elicit hilarious reactions in people. Since I began attending boot camp three weeks ago, I have had friends and strangers react with delight, horror, fear, intrigue, revulsion and curiosity. Admittedly, the horror and revulsion were usually from those confronted with my sweaty, scarlet-faced post-boot-camp self. I don't blame them, not in the slightest. It's a foul sight.

But what is boot camp, really? Why the controversy? Why the interest?

Do I go to get thrashed? Screamed at? Maimed?
Do I have to get up at 4am? In the pouring rain? To pull tyres attached to chains around my neck?
Will it turn me into a bloke? With rippling muscles? And deplete my oestrogen levels?

Um, well, no. It's not as dramatic as all that.

The truth of the matter is, I'm loving boot camp. Absolutely adoring it. Even on a Saturday morning, when I crawl out of bed at twenty past five to make the 6am session (once I'm up it's ok...it's the initial groaning heave out from under the covers that kills me).

During the week I go in the evenings, after the kids have been fed. For someone who has always struggled with fatigue at the pointy end of the day, I find it suprisingly easy to don my runners and scoot out the front door. On Saturday mornings, there's a choice of 6am or 7am. And one thing I've learned, having been to both time slots, is that at that end of the day, there's not a whole lot of difference. It's all early.

There's no screaming or whip-cracking (it's exercise, people, not an S & M parlour...) but it is quite gruelling. Most of the exercises use our own body weight, rather than equipment. We are always told to complete a movement slowly and properly, rather than rapidly and risk hurting ourselves. Every routine is different, and challenging, and guaranteed to pinpoint muscles in places you didn't know you had places.

And it's exhilarating.

After every boot camp session, I have left with a red, sweaty face, a body that feels as though it's been wrung out, legs almost too wobbly to walk, and a huge grin. Christian thinks it's hilarious to watch me wince when I attempt to play with the kids on the floor (because my glutes are so excruciatingly sore that I literally cannot sit down). I have, for three weeks now, been completely aware of my muscles with every movement that I make. Mostly because they all hurt.

So if it's so painful, why am I enjoying so much? How has this roly-poly lazy bones with the leftover baby belly suddenly acquired a taste for strenuous exercise? (No one was more surprised than me, let me tell you!)

I love the comraderie of the group. In every session there's men and women, all ages, all shapes and sizes, all giving it their darndest. I love the simplicity of the exercises, and the fact that there's always a version I can do without falling over. I love that there's no frou-frou. It's just Haydn, the instructor, telling us what to do. And we do it. I love the fact that I can feel my body getting fitter. Even though it's only been three weeks, and I am truly a slug, I am already getting faster and stronger. Even if it's only in my mind.

And it's the little things outside of the gym too. Like hearing the cacophony of birdsong beginning as I leave the house at 5.40am on a Saturday. Like being absolutely ravenous for breakfast, and knowing I can enjoy every mouthful. Like having my kids interested in 'Mummy's boot camp', and wanting to exercise with me. Like knowing that I am finally doing something for my own mental health and wellbeing.

Yes, I am completely knackered at the end of the day. And yes, I could eat the legs off a horse after a big session. And oh my lordy me yes, it hurts (today is Monday. My last session was Saturday. I'm only now starting to walk properly again...) But I've got three months of boot camp up my sleeve, and I intend on using them. Even though I know I won't be a supermodel by Christmas, as least I'll have buns of steel.....

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must pop off to bed. Being a 'break' week, there's no 6.15pm session tomorrow, so I'll be creaking my way to the 6am group.....ouch *insert wincing face* I'm loving it, seriously. I am. Now, if someone could just remind me of that at 5.20am tomorrow...??