Boot Camp
May 5th, 2008
So this past week was the start of the highly anticipated (and much feared) “Women’s Boot Camp” class in my town. Created by my uber-fit friend, “Sweaty Betty,” it’s a military boot camp-style fitness class where for a full hour each week, 70 suburban women get their you-know-what’s kicked at the local high school football field…voluntarily.
To ease our anxiety, my friend Dee and I emailed back and forth just hours before the start of the first class. The following is our correspondence.
Note: one of the reasons why I love hanging out with Dee so much is that we frequently digress into language that’s part 13-year old surfer boy, part sailor. It’s quite liberating.
From: Dee
To: Jen
RE: tonight
I ate pizza for lunch. I may puke it up.
From: Jen
To: Dee
RE: tonight
Eating my yogurt and Odwalla bar now and hope that it stays down. I hear we run stairs!!!
From: Dee
To: Jen
Re: RE: tonight
WHAT?!?!?! WHAT STAIRS?!?!?! are you making (bleep) up to freak me out????
From: Jen
To: Dee
Re: RE: tonight
No dude. I heard it from Jess when I saw her in Aisle 7 at Stop & Shop this morning.
From: Dee
To: Jen
Re: RE: RE: tonight
What stairs do we run???
From: Jen
To: Dee
Re: RE: RE: tonight
The stadium stairs of the football field.
From: Dee
To: Jen
Re: RE: RE: RE: tonight
I’m sorry, did you say “stadium?” We’re going to the high school track right? or did it move to Fenway Park?!?!
From: Jen
To: Dee
Re: RE: RE: RE: tonight
Bleachers.
That’s the word I meant to use.
###
Well, we survived the first class - sprints, stairs, squats and all. And when I told the kids that Mommy was doing push-ups on the field while staring down at a big earthworm…
That was worth the price of admission, dude.