[ Features Index | East Bay | Metroactive ]

No Pain, No Gain The humiliation, the pain, the sweat : god I feel good By Charyn Pfeuffer I'm no slouch when it comes to the active life. I spend my weekends outdoors -- hiking through the parking lot to find my car, gardening for some basil to garnish my pasta, an invigorating bike ride to the movie rental store. My most active body part is usually my mouth, but I've been known to work up a mean sweat in the process. I've tried countless exercise regimens (all protein, all carbs, all popcorn) and wasted thousands of dollars on gym memberships -- and ended up spending most of my time in the sauna or the hot tub. The gym just doesn't do it for me. Enclosing that many sweaty people in a confined space is patently un-motivating. Not to mention that sports bras were in no way designed for the comfort of the 36D woman. Some people manage to get up every day and run, or to do yoga videotapes at home. That takes a kind of discipline that somehow escaped me in the discipline-making process (though I managed to become proficient at the will power necessary to try out every new Ben & Jerry's flavor and to watch every episode of "Sex and the City"). In the confines of my apartment, I can find 101 activities that I'd rather do than sweat. So I was intrigued -- and a bit intimidated -- when an acquaintance recommended OutFit Fitness Boot Camp to me. I imagined the furrowed brow of a drill instructor looming over me as I struggled through my 100th sit up, rising at dawn to be mentally and physically demeaned, "Sir, yes sir" always at my lips. It wasn't quite like that -- though there are some S&M clubs in the city that could provide a similar experience. The program requires a five-week commitment (although drop-in classes are available and you can try a class for free) at -- gasp -- 6am, Monday through Friday. I signed up before I had a chance to consider that the world as it exists before 9:30am is not very familiar to me; I work from home and have minimal structure and routine in my life. The prospect of five weeks of discipline, early bedtimes, and pain was not taking on any sort of romantic sheen in my mind. It took a bet from my boyfriend -- that I wouldn't survive two days -- to push me into action, and I made a mental commitment to myself not only to complete the program, but to make a gung ho effort. Some people go into these programs looking for compan-ionship; I wasn't on mission to make new friends. I could barely imagine myself being anything that resembled "nice," much less sociable, at that early hour. I went into the program hoping to jumpstart a fitness routine, one, which would hopefully extend past the five-week period. If I could decrease the available surface area on my body on which my cellulite could spread, I wasn't going to complain. Herewith my daily diary, logging the pain, the sweat, the ultimate redemp-tion. Get out the Kleenex; it's a true success story. Week 1 Day 1 I think I slept a total of 15 minutes last night, I was so anxious about the morning ahead of me. Would I be able to complete the exercises? Would my cohorts tie my shoelaces together in some horrible hazing? Would I suffer a crippling sports injury? The 25 days stretched in front of me like a vista of pain, each day taunting me with hours of panting, dripping, and that all-too-familiar hands on the knees stance that vanquished athletes always seem to take after suffering extreme humiliation. At 5am, my alarm startled me out of bed and I groggily threw on my makeshift athletic wear and headed to class. The boot camp group met near the San Francisco marina. There was a fairly even mix of boot camp veterans and novices, all clad in span-dex, sweatpants, and logoed cotton tee shirts. Physical shapes and sizes varied from post-pregnancy plumpness to marathon runner sveltitude. Not one person sported a coordinated workout outfit or too-tiny, breast­baring sports bra. The veterans acted like seasoned pros: calm, cool, and unafraid. They freely dished with one another about their jobs, families, and weekend plans. I, on the other hand, already had sweaty palms -- and I'd yet to physically exert myself in any way. I could only nervously glance from face to face of my classmates, like a cornered wild beast, and anxiously await instruction. My class of about twenty people is being taught by Jennifer Jolley and her assistant, Danielle Cossette. Jen called the group together for an initial briefing. She didn't yell, blow a whistle, or crack a whip. Not yet. She just asked everyone to gather around her. Those who'd been to boot camp before were lined up in two rows and sent off to run with Danielle. The rest of us, feet in constant motion, got an introduction to the program. Jen is owner/founder of OutFit Fitness and a reporter for KTVU and KRON; she's a proud new mom, eager to get back in shape. A petite blonde, Jen has the energy of a toy dog on speed. Normally I'm wary of people who are so perky in the morning, but her enthusiasm is contagious and I warmed up to her pretty quickly. She repeatedly emphasized going at our own pace, while working to push ourselves without getting hurt. She also stressed the importance of not judging our performance against others. We were told to stay in constant motion throughout the entire one-hour class (wriggling toes does not count, apparently). And if you decide to pull a no-show, Jen promis-ed to call you at home and make the present classmates do push-ups. This brilliant guilt-induced method of accountability surely would've increased my attendance at other functions throughout my life. The paperwork includes a section where participants write down their three goals for the program. I write that I want to gain upper body strength, get used to waking up early, and devote one hour of the day entirely to myself without any exterior dis-tractions. The thought of having sixty whole minutes to myself on a daily basis -- without worrying about deadlines or making mental to-do lists -- held more appeal than a session with a shrink. I overheard one woman boldly stating that her objective was to meet a boyfriend. I had to giggle. Unfortunately for her, there was a testosterone shortage in boot camp. There were only five men in the class, and most were wearing wedding bands. After a few "simple" assess-ment tests (performed as a group, but scored individually), and a brief bout of performance anxiety, I was on my way to five weeks of healthy living. The tests included crunches, push-ups, and a mile-and-a-half run. I was able to complete all of the tests, but not without my heart rate pulsing at an alarming rate and feeling totally self-conscious of my abilities. I did manage to leave feeling truly inspired. I'd seen the sunrise and I realized that there was hope for me after all. Day 2 The outdoor classes consist of cardiovascular training (running, jumping rope, obstacle courses, stairs, and hill training), strength train-ing (lifting weights, exercise bands, push-ups, crunches, and Pilates), and flexibility training (more Pilates, yoga, and daily warm-up and cool-down stretches). Today we ran. And ran. And ran. And jumped rope. I admit: I lack basic coordination skills. I have the scars on my knees to prove it. I didn't expect to skip rope like Sylvester Stallone in Rocky, but was disappointed to find that I could barely make ten complete rotations before getting hopelessly tangled. This is not exactly the area I expected to excel in least. I fared much better with the weights. I opted for a pair of 5lb weights for starters, and envisioned super buff arms -- the kind you show off in strapless dresses with a golden tan. Jen interrupted my reverie and informed us that women get muscle tone in the arms, while men gain bulk. The tan, I'm told, comes from else-where. Damn. Next, we tackled the stairs. I'm sure you recall the "up, up, down, down" routine from gym class. We closed class with what seemed like a thousand crunches and a cool-down stretch. I went home and straight to bed, pitying my poor classmates who had to go to work and actually be productive. I found that returning to bed after the session tricked my body into thinking that it's truly rested. That evening, I met up with my boyfriend and had difficulty lifting my arms to hug him. It was a stern realization: weeks of pain lay ahead. Day 3 My arms hurt so badly this morning that I had trouble driving my non-power-steering car. After a warm-up run, we did an obstacle course, the same one that Julia Roberts reportedly does. There were five hula-hoops lined up. The first one said 5, the next one said 4 and so on. The idea was to do a hop-up (kind of like a jumping jack), drop down into a push-up, repeat the designated amount of times and sprint to the next hoop. After com-pleting the five hoops, there were lunges, leaps, side-to-side jumps, and backwards sprinting to be done. Jen kept belting out, "Come on guys, you can do it. Keep moving, keep moving!" I believed her when she said, "Welcome to butt camp." Mine hurt. Badly. Day 4 I knew something was wrong when the sun was up when I opened my eyes. I slept at my boyfriend's and the alarm didn't go off. I first panicked -- what would Jen say? -- but then I turned the rage on myself. After only four days I'd fallen off the boot camp wagon. It crossed my mind that the boyfriend would have to go if I was at all serious about this program. Do soldiers have time for boyfriends? Do members of elite military units make time for friends? I got home at 7:30am, went for a run, and called Jen (before she could call me) to see what exercises I could do at home to keep up with the class. I was shocked that I actually missed the pain, the sweating, the heavy breathing. Day 5 Today was devoted to stairs, primarily sprinting up and down them and doing push-ups in an upwardly mobile manner. A woman in my class and I discussed (between heaving breaths) the virtues of the group atmosphere, and how it provides constant motivation and a certain level of account-ability and shame. She'd spent $2300 on an at-home EFX machine and has used it as an expensive clothes hanger ever since. Mind you, this woman has a three-month-old baby and a body that I've only seen in magazines. My boyfriend asked me last night, "Well, once you know the routines and movements, can't you just do it on your own?" I suppose it's possible, but I've failed at self-disciplined exercise so many times before. I still have a long way to go before I reach Wonder Woman status. Week 2 Day 7 5am wasn't a total shock to my system this morning. I'm slightly scared. I hope my inner body clock realizes that this early-morning activity is strictly a temporary situation. My energy throughout the day has clearly increased. I manage to squeeze in a post-workout nap, but from 10am on, my creativity is free-flowing and I can write with the energy of Robert Downey Jr. before rehab. Day 9 I made the mistake of staying out until nearly midnight last night. And having a few cocktails. Must I sacrifice even girls' night out? The ladies need me. As a result, this morning was rougher than expected; I fought off waves of exhaustion and nausea between jumping jacks and push-ups. In pairs, we navi-gated about 10 different stations of activities in 90-second increments. The activities targeted all areas of the body, from abs to cardio. And then came the "speed round." I imagined myself projectile vomiting the previous evening's tapas, and moved faster, hoping that sweat and heavy breathing would deter this possible embarrassment. I managed to succeed. The hour flew by and I was back in bed by 7:30am. Note to self: must turn into Cinderella by 10pm nightly, and no excessive behavior on school nights. Day 10 I'm really psyched about completing week two of the program. (I reserve usage of the word "psyched" solely for jump-up-and-down moments of pure excitement.) I feel incredible, physically, and in awe of my inner-body transformation. The outer-body is doing pretty well, too: I've lost about 6lbs. and I feel much calmer throughout the day. I'm still short-tempered behind the wheel, but there are some things that exercise just can't cure. Week 3 Day 12 I hope you're sitting down as you read this. I did 11, count 'em, 11 pull-ups today. High five, anyone, anyone? I have never been able to complete a single, solitary pull-up. Not even during the Presidential Physical Fitness tests in middle school. I'm making progress. The focus of today's class was on tightening and toning. We did innumerable crunches, various leg stretches, and exercises with hand weights (interspersed with a lap, series of dips, or push-ups here and there). I traded in my usual 5lb. hand weights for an 8lb. pair. I'm optimistically hoping for full mobility and range of motion later today. Day 13 I'm officially half way through the program. I was in agonizing menstrual pain this morning, but even cramps couldn't deter me from kickboxing. I've read that strenuous exercise is supposed to alleviate cramps, but I gave it my all and I think it's a falsehood. Luckily, I was able to relieve some period-induced angst and aggression by imagining deserving re-cipients for every jab, kick, and undercut. Attacking imaginary assailants proved to be far more satisfying than a crying jag or a pint of ice cream. Week 4 The fourth week flew by. The daily exercise has integrated itself nicely into my routine and every morning I find myself feeling strangely appreciative for this opportun-ity to enjoy the Bay Area's early dawn. Concerned that brainwashing is coming over me, I check my Gatorade for suspicious residues. Jen and Danielle spend a considerable amount of time giving one-on-one pointers and modifications, so it's almost like working out with a personal trainer with the benefit of group support. The variety of day-to-day activities keep motivation levels up and create new challenges. Week 5 Day 22 Today we did Pilates, the stretching and toning exercise that has long been the dancer's secret, recently co-opted by the yuppies. I haven't done Pilates since I was a wee ballerina, and the subtle movements gave my already sore body a beating. The combination of slow stretches and movements, however, released any tension I had along my spine and I left feeling completely invigorated. It wasn't until mid-afternoon that the post-Pilates effects washed over my limbs and abdominal muscles. I went online and located a Pilates studio where I could take weekly classes. My back felt better than after an hour with a masseur and mentally, I felt extremely calm. What's not to love about an exercise that doesn't make you sweat, is done almost entirely on the floor, but makes your stomach and butt muscles feel like you've had an all-night sex marathon? Day 25 I felt a twinge of sadness at the close of our final class. I don't even know the names of everyone in my program, but I felt a kinship and sense of group accomplishment. Some people were already geared up for the next session. Others waved good-bye, some swapped numbers and a hug or two was exchanged. The only tears that were shed were by Danielle as one woman crossed the finish line of the mile-and-a-half run. It really was a sticky-sweet, picture-perfect Hallmark moment, and I half expected fireworks to explode overhead. There were no injuries during the five weeks (unless you consider my sagging social life), and although a few people left for vacation, there weren't any out-and-out quitters. I feel a peculiar thing, and I think it's pride. I still haven't gotten in touch with my inner Marion Jones, but I've developed a newfound appreciation for exercise. (I also shaved two minutes off my previous mile-and-a-half time.) There's no hope in trying to make an athlete out of a girl like me, but give me some fresh air, strap on some sneakers and a supportive physical presence and it seems that I can accomplish things that otherwise seemed impossible. And as the sun rose over my last day as a boot camp grunt, I gathered my things and went home. To bed. U OutFit Fitness 415.441.4631 www.outfitfitness.com Programs include: outdoor fitness boot camps, corporate fitness/team building boot camps, prenatal and new mommy classes, mind/body combined meditation/fitness classes, one-on-one personal training. Locations include: Merritt College (Oakland), Marin, and locations throughout San Francisco Prices: $275 for new students, $250 if you pre-register. $225 for returning students, $200 if you pre-register. Drop-in sessions are $15 for new students, $12 for returning students. San Francisco Boot Camp 415.921.8537 www.bootcampsf.com Programs include: Five varying levels of classes from Level I Boot Camp to Level V Bravo-Challenge Camp. Classes meet three or four times weekly for six weeks. You can also try a session for free. Locations include: Merritt College (Oakland) and Golden Gate Park (San Francisco) Prices: Levels I and II are $15/day. Levels III, IV, and V are based on individualized program parameters. Philadelphia native Charyn Pfeuffer began writing for alternative newsweeklies four years ago. Her work can be found in several national newspapers and magazines, and a forthcoming book project. [ East Bay | Metroactive | Archives ]