It was a year ago this weekend that I was spending a sunny afternoon in bed watching bad TV, eating about a pound of highly leftover pasta, wasting the internets time – just trying to cope with another endless Saturday and my sad, sad heart.
Checking facebook for the 2,314th time in an hour I found a message from a friend that truly loves me and anything athletic. Like so many, she reached out with what has worked for her during difficult times. She lives out of town, but researched my area and sent me a link to SouthPark Boot Camp. SouthPark WHAT the WHAT? I didn’t have the drive to – well – drive to SouthPark Mall. Let alone this boot camp nonsense. I rolled my eyes. And then napped because that amount of exercise was exhausting.
Woke up. Ate more pasta. Looked at the website. Susan O’Neill looked nice, healthy, happy. She was smiling. Not a Lou Gossett, Jr. character screaming obscenities at me while I cried doing one armed pushups in the mud in the middle of the night. The campers appeared to be there of their own accord – not for some weird plea deal or in an effort to make them spill government secrets. And there were children there. How bad could it be if children were allowed?
Ate a little more pasta. E-mailed Susan. Didn’t use an alias. Told one person I was going. That was all the commitment I could muster up. Wednesday rolled around. I got up on time, put on my ‘fit hosen’ (really ugly, baggy yoga pants I bought in Germany when my luggage didn’t arrive), pulled out a beach towel (a yoga mat would only serve to mock me if this was a one-morning-stand) and a bottle of water.
I drove the three miles to the park…thinking WHAT AM I DOING?
Wow. I am a regular. I am pretty sure I have not stayed with anything that didn’t involve shared DNA, a legal document, a paycheck or a promise in front of God long enough to be a regular. It was an adjustment. A big one. But, after having to learn to live my life one breath, minute, hour, day at a time…I decided to approach boot camp the same way. One class at a time. Wednesday turned into Friday turned into June turned into sweat week turned into a way of life. Let’s end that with another Wow.
The things I want to say about the year I have spent at SPBC sounds like a giant stupid cliché. Getting strong on the outside and the inside…healing my heart and my body…a whole bunch of others. Sorry…Clichés are clichés because they are true.
Here are my top ten reasons for LOVING SPBC:
1. Susan Hart O’Neill. One of the most incredible, inspiring, patient, dedicated women I have ever known. THE most positive person I know – she has strengthened my attitude, my heart and my body!
2. The Booty Campers. Such positive, kind, genuine and encouraging people. I never would have done this had it not been for the laughs, the stories, the sharing. I completely admire them all –
as friends, mothers, wives, citizens. They all have such huge hearts. It is truly what gets me there. Then I keep going.
3. Holy crap. I have muscles.
4. Me. I am always the slowest, always the whiniest, always the last…and yet I still feel strong and accomplished. Go me!
5. I never know what to expect when I get there. One day I feel like I have caught up…the next I am caught off guard. I love that.
6. Running. And I may have mentioned that I hate it. Sometimes I kinda don’t hate it. It isn’t often. But I can go farther and faster than I could have imagined a year ago.
7. Holy crap. I have muscles.
8. No matter how much I hate it while I am working out I love it two hours later.
9. Susan has such a great way of correcting me without making me feel corrected – just encouraged.
I still have a long way to go with my heart and my hips. But I feel way more equipped and way less alone than I would had I not found SPBC. But I really believe I will get there – by sticking with what works, trusting the people that are real and always working on being strong. And did I mention that…HOLY CRAP! I have muscles!!!