We thought we joined the army with the condos and the yachts

posted Mon, 16 May 2005

This morning, my friend Isabel and I started Boot Camp.

No, I have not quit my job to join the Marines, although I tell you the thought has crossed my mind.

Well, not really. I mean, the thought has crossed my mind to quit my job, but not to join the Marines.

I wonder when we get our guns!
Source: http://scetc.tecom.usmc.mil/images/166801.jpg

Boot Camp is an exercise program run by an ex-Marine DI, Sgt Tony. It starts at 5:30 a.m. You pay for the privilege of having someone telling you what to do for an hour. I figure it can’t be worse than PE. After all, this guy can’t be too mean, or else no one’s going to return. We’re not enlisted. We have a choice. Sir.

So Isabel and I get to the track at the local college. I am surprised at the number of people willing to exercise before the sun is up, but consider it a good sign that people are arriving late, carrying Starbucks coffee with them.

Sgt Tony starts barking out warm-up drills. Isabel and I do our stretches on the grass instead of on the basketball court because we forgot to bring mats as instructed on the website. When Tony notices us, he comes over. “Why aren’t you on deck?” he asks.

“Because we don’t have mats,” I answer.

“Why not?”

“Because we are not prepared, sir,” I reply.

“Did you hear that?” Tony shouts. “They didn’t try to blame me or anyone else. They explained that they weren’t prepared.”

Tony wanted us to work with Bravo group, but we didn’t have hand weights, either, so with a deep sigh, he put us with Alpha group, who was running that day. We ran around in circles while Bravo did weights and calisthenics and shouted, “one, two, three, four, one two, threefour!”

That was the easy part.

Then Isabel and I had to find the locker room.

That was the hard part.

We wandered around the fieldhouse seeking anything that looked like a women’s locker room. We had no one to follow: None of the other women who had worked out were headed that way. After ten minutes of walking up and down stairs and through hallways, we finally stumbled across the women’s showers. And then we understood why no one else bathes there. Grotty is the word. Or maybe gross. Icky. Yucky.

Tomorrow, we will have weights and mats and we will each return home for bathing. And we will still be at work by 8:00. Already exercised. Ready to put in a full day of work. Superior.