Well, folks here we are, 3weeks since I returned from Camp Karma and there are a few things that have really stuck with me. Sadly, not the loss of the few paltry pounds (thank you white wine and chocolate!), but a few goals and learnings.
As some of you know, I have signed up for my local military training in the park. Now you would think that this would be easier than a week of it (I know I certainly did), but let’s not underestimate the humiliation factor that accompanies public co-ed exercise with really athletic people. Now, the first time I show up, I drag my friend Sam (she, who drug me to Spain, so I told her she owed me!) as she exercises with this company in her local village. We got there a little bit early and the first thing I noticed was that everyone was REALLY toned and thin. Including those people who were putting on the jersey of shame (the “beginner blue,” which we all know is code for out-of-shape). I was looking around for someone my level. And nada. So, sure enough, I was (AGAIN!) the most out of shape, uncoordinated, balance challenged and slowest person there.
Even the 5 months pregnant lady was seriously lapping me.
But, I persevered! So, I went again. And, this time, I saw a man who had to be at least 75 in the blue bib. Woo hoo! I will not be the bringing up the rear again. Yeah, not so much. Because that feisty hearing aid wearing septuagenarian was also a cheat! Run to the fence and back to me was pretty clear. To him, it clearly meant something different. So this is really getting embarrassing.
Little did I know what awaited.
As this was a Saturday morning class, it was described as more “social,” meaning games and “fun.” Well, part of the fun was pairing up with someone – guess who I got paired up with? Yep. So, me and great-grandpa now have to engage in the fun, which means one person standing with their legs wide apart while the other crawls between them and then runs around before jumping up to give a high five to the other. Now, I am not that thrilled about crawling between this guy’s legs and to begin with he barely spreads them and we have a little kerfuffle while I ask him to move them before I realize that he can’t hear me. Everyone else is crawling, running and jumping and we haven’t even gotten started. Cue more public humiliation.
But, we did get there in the end.
So, I went back. And, this time I had the joy of meeting Vlad the Impaler. (And, no I did not give him that nickname.) Twenty minutes in and following a particularly energetic sprinting and push-up combo race and I am left with a strained quad muscle. So, everyone else carries on, I limp around doing eff all. Turns out, it can be worse than being most the out of shape, uncoordinated, balance challenged and slowest person there. I have moved from the sick and weak of the herd to the lame. One lazy lion later and I am toast.
But, I am nothing if not tenacious (or Tenacious K as my law school peeps called me), so I WILL go back. A few days later, the quad seems to be OK and I am going to for a bike ride today to test it out. Seems I just can’t stay away from being the center of attention, even if for the wrong reasons.
But, exercise is not the only thing that I took away from boot camp. I also discovered that, in my old age, I have become an animal person.
Now, this may sound odd, but what I missed the most from home were my two kitties, Pudding and Sambuca (or, as they are known by their Texas names Sam (pronounced Say-am, natch) and Pud). And on our morning run in Spain, we passed by a house with two beautiful Alsatians who would run up to the fence and nuzzle our hands. This moment of tenderness became my favorite part of the day. And, made me realize that I missed my kitties.
Now, y’all have to know by now, that I wouldn’t have just normal run of the mill cats. Nope, I seemed to have adopted two special needs boys. One, who has kitty cerebral palsy and one who is mute. So, basically, one falls over all the time and the other one can only emit little squeaks. Now of course, this only makes me love them even more.
But, don’t get me wrong, not in some weird cat lady with a bottle of jack daniels in her drawer and a ratty cardigan festooned with kittens and balls of yarn, crowned with diamante spectacles on a chain around her neck, way. Although, I do think some of my co-workers may think so. I was at a women’s networking event recently and when some “woman” (I would prefer to use another word to describe her, but my new-found love of dogs prevents me from doing so) asked I were dating anyone.
When I said no, she said, smiling in a very condescending way “Oh. But you have your cats.”
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love my cats and they are, in fact, both boys. One of whom who has a terrible gas problem and sadly, as he is the falling down one, has developed a habit of flopping down in front of me and farting simultaneously. Nice.
And, the other one has the habit of deciding to share how much he loves me, which, in cat speak, apparently, is purring loudly and rubbing your face on the face of the beloved, while prodding with a clawed paw (for you Americans, de-clawing is illegal here. Maybe because it is the equivalent of cutting of your fingers to your first knuckle?).
But, I digress.
No, this show of love is always, very conveniently at around 5 am, when I am deeply asleep. So, I ask, between the flopping farter and the midnight lover – what am I actually missing in a man?
Now, of course, I don’t share this with the “woman.” I simply say, my life is very good and I am very happy and it would need to be something pretty incredible for me to bring a new person into it. And, I do mean it. I get to be completely selfish. I can focus solely on my career and goals, spend money on whatever I want and do whatever I want. There is something very nice about that.
I don’t think she believed me. But, no worries, because someone asked her (smiling in a very condescending way!) if she had children. The coup de grace of the one-up-manship of the Coffee klatch. Because of course she didn’t. And, then she found herself defending the selfishness of her life sans offspring….
See, karma is still getting ya!
But, even as women can exhibit this waspy shrewishness, the thing I miss the most about boot camp is the support and friendship of encouragement of all of the women in my camp. (well, save for one). It is how we all got through it and why we might go again. It is what makes going to the co-ed class more challenging, but why I will continue to go (as I can hear them in my head and see them on my facebook page!).
And, frankly, if all I got out of my week of hell is these few things, then I say it was well worth the money.
