Adventure Boot Camp and McDonald’s go head to head …..


Adventure Boot Camp is 4 weeks of hell.

There is not one moment of joy.  I get really excited when I get asked to grab my yoga mat and the sun has gone down, because I live in hope that I will be doing final stretches and then stand around and clap like a seal, and be allowed to go home.

I am the oldest and fattest person there.  I am last in every possible activity.

This is not a cry for help or affirmation, it is a fact.

There are girls that laugh and giggle throughout – meanwhile I am attempting to hold my bladder in and not shit in my pants.  I am wearing lycra and even in my fairly elementary understanding of sport’s wear I realise that a large lump of poop in my pants will be noticed.

It is a difficult hour – I swear and curse a great deal.  I am amazed I have an apron for a stomach that often tends to lie against my thighs —- I wish to die right there and then.

I never walk away happy.  I limp away in relief that it is over.

The endorphins do not know how to find me.  Possibly I need to do one of those location updates on my phone, maybe they would find me then.

I wore a Simple Minds t-shirt last night – concert in Cape Town 1995 – that I think was older than most girls there.  1995, they were embryos, and I was considered underweight.

I miss those days.

It is all tragic, and sad …. and makes me long for my quiet time eating a McDonalds McMuffin, my large chips and large Coke Zero.  See the problem?

Tell me again how much a gastric bypass costs … and what you need to do to qualify?

Pop over to Adventure Boot Camp and {like} the image, I think I win something.

It might be lipo-suction, and a free session at plastic surgeon …. or a stomach pump …… or a head band ….. right now I would settle for home made pasta and about 27 liters of wine.  I am too exhausted to pay attention.

True story.

The humiliation that is Adventure Boot Camp …

Third week in, and I am loving it about as much as I do a waxing session or a pap smear.  If they could find a way to combine them, would not even hint at how much I loath my Adventure Boot Camp sessions.

At least a pap smear takes about 4 minutes, and really when it is over, you sort of look back and go “well that was not that bad, see you in 1 or 3 years.”

I am officially the “fat chick” at boot camp.  The fat old chick.

If my self-esteem could take any more of a dent, I might need to up my Seroquel.

The slowest out of EVE.RY. fuck.n one!  I am the one who is last.  I am usually 40% of the way through the routine when everyone is finished and starting from the beginning.

The trainer now knows my name.  And screams it across the field.

It is one of those occasions when you do not want to be noticed.

You know when you have to run with your rolled up yoga mat above your head, whilst going up-and-down with your arms to the fence and back again?  Just like that.  I eventually just left the mat behind. Really no one can scream at me enough to do push ups with a mat whilst I am running. Not even my mom!

I am so exhausted, and so unfit that I want to cry.

I am waiting on the endorphins that make me feel happy.  It is now 23h16 and still no endorphins,  I don’t think they are coming tonight.

It is okay to cry at Adventure Boot Camp because no one really notices.  Your breathing is coming in short bursts anyway, and you are sort of lying on the floor wondering when it was that life got this bad …  and sweating so much, that a few more bits of moisture on your face is a bit of a non-issue.

So of course you can cry, no one realises and no one cares.

It is only the third week in, and I am officially stuffed.  Buggered.  Fucked. The slowest chick there.

I regret every McDonalds breakfast. I regret every “buy large and save more” bag of Chuckles.

I do not regret the wine.  I think about the large glass I am going to pour as soon as I get home. I have decided to stop eating and get all my calorie intake from a few glasses of wine.  Technically it will be my 5 servings of fruit and vegetables per day.  Right?

Holy Mother of Mary, this getting old and trying very hard to not get any fatter, and hope that maybe, just maybe I can get by a month without my daughter asking me if I am pregnant ….. excuse me whilst I lie on the field and throw up.

Yay for Adventure Boot Camp …. said no one ever!

Let me count the ways I hate Adventure Boot Camp

I am not sure if it was the wine talking, or my inability to say “no” to things on line after 23h00 – but somewhere in this I decided to register for another not-really-fun Adventure Boot Camp.

I have done this before, so am fully aware how much TIK you must be on to register and attend one of these things.

The class starts this evening, so registering the night before, sort of gives you an idea of how committed I was to this whole “let’s get fit thing.”  I was secretly hoping to be denied access to their website.  Clearly their firewall needs some attention.

The weather today in Cape Town was grim. Rainy, cold and miserable.  Perfect “lie on the couch in front of a gas heater with a large glass of wine” weather.

There was ABSOLUTE nothing in today that made me WANT to put on lycra, my now far too small exercise pants, and my just too short exercise shirt and run around a field whilst being screamed at.

I am not even mildly into S&M.  So you can understand that I really do not get off on someone screaming at me – and me being in pain.

What it makes me want to do is swear like a pirate, and go home to drink a large glass of wine.

Tonight I went along to Adventure Boot Camp.

I had already told myself that I might as well “start tomorrow” but I knew that if I did not go TODAY, it would be pretty much tickets for tomorrow and every day that follows.

But I went.  I really would love to tell you how much fun it was, and how many friends I made.  Nada on both of those.

I did however eye out who were clearly the girls with way too much energy, no fat rolls, and an ability to laugh and giggle all the way through the exercises that made me pee in my pants a bit.

I have decided not to like them at all.  It is also quite easy to see who they are because they wear headbands.  I do not think I have ever been hot enough to wear a headband.

But maybe Jane Fonda is back in, and I just did not realise.

Either way, I am pretty sure I am going to have difficulty squatting on the toilet tomorrow. I may pop around to Cape Union Mart and see if they have one of those stand-and-pee-for-ladies things.



Elegant no.  Functional yes!

I went back to Run/Walk for Life today …..


I started Run/Walk for Life in October.

My theory is that running is great exercise, does not really require any organisation to get it going, and is something you can do pretty much anywhere and at any time.

I have a firmly held belief that “I can’t run.”

Back in 2010 I contacted a running coach, and he diligently worked with me to “teach me to run.”

I realise for people who “just run” that the idea of it being a skill that needs to be taught is a foreign idea, but I needed to be taught to run.

I had been doing Adventure Boot Camp in 2009 and 2010 and, it has lots of bits where you need to run.  Not far, but you need to run.  I found that I was getting stronger and fitter at Adventure Boot Camp, but I still could not run any distance easily.

I breathed and looked like I was on the verge of a heart attack or at the very least in the throes of an epileptic attack.

Runner coach started me running the distance between 2 light posts.  I thought I was going to die.  I was breathing so hard after that, that it took about 20 minutes for me to return to normal breathing.  Not a great start!

Runner coach guy worked with me and after 2 months I was able to run for about 35 minutes – which for me was unheard of.  I can’t tell you how proud of was of myself!!  We worked together two evenings a week, and we started slowly run for 1 minutes, walk for 20 minutes, run for 1 minute, walk for 20 minutes – and then slowly built on that until we got to a point where I was actually doing more running in the hour than walking!!

I was sure I was never going to run – and even though he said : “I have never met anyone who cannot run.  I have met many people who think they cannot run!”  I thought that I would be the person to change his outlook or at the very least his catch phrase.

I was still not a confident runner as each time I started to run I would tell myself  “you know, you can’t run, you know that, right?”

Even as I am busy running the voice in my head would say “okay, I see here that you are running, but best  you do not believe it, you may be running, but you know you can’t run — so this is just a fluke —– YOU CAN’T RUN!”

I know people say that running is a mental thing – cheese and rice, but can the mentally unhinged do it?

Back in 2010 Kennith entered me into the Two Oceans Marathon.

That was the equivalent of shooting me in the knee.

I  convinced myself  I could not run any distance, I would never be able to train to run any sort of event/race.

Instead of spurring me on to train, it spurred me on to sit on the couch, take off my shoes and further convince myself that I COULD NOT RUN.  I didn’t run for about a year after that.

October last year I joined and started Run/Walk for Life.  The programme is geared for everyone whether you are 10 or 80 years old.  I decided to slot in and stick with what ever they suggested I should do, and go with the flow.

I figured they must know what they are doing.  I like the idea of an organised and committed time to do something, but I like to work on my own within that range.  I like and need to spend time in my head – and exercise for me is a really a “head” thing, and I do not enjoy doing it as a group.

Run/Walk for Life felt I was not ready for road work – they had me walk around a field, and walk around a field and walk around a field.

Just at the point where I thought I had done my head in with walking around a field, the instructor suggested I start running a bit – short bits – maybe 100 metres, then walk again.  Still around the field.

Worked well – all very controlled.  I do about 40 minutes of walking interspersed with running.  I run really slowly, more of a shuffle – but my breathing is controlled. I walk, and then run when I feel I am ready, and as far as I think I can/should go – some days I push myself and play little mental “can you make it to the orange beacon” games.

I was on holiday and have not been to Run/Walk for Life since the first week of December.  I was meant to go last week, but I convinced myself of all sorts of reasons why not to.

This morning I was committed to go.  [Even though I took my book along thinking I would bail, and end up eating McDonalds breakfast in my car with my book.]

I went.  I got out of my car and I was sent walking on the field.  At a certain point I thought, okay, I will just run for 100 meters  and then carry on walking.

I knew it was going to be hard, as I just felt so “flahhhhhh” and just “gahhhhhhhh” – all the things you feel after a holiday of much lying around and too much eating.

The idea of running/walking held very little in the way of anything attractive this morning.

I put my earphones in, listened to Depeche Mode and Johnny Cash and did my 40 minutes of redemption.

I ran much more than I thought I would be able to.  I ran slowly, but I could keep my breathing more or less normal.

I did not throw up once on the field, and for that I am grateful!

When I was finished, I was sweating to the point where my back was one slick of sweat.   I did not realise I could sweat that much.  My sweat was sweating.  My face was the colour of beetroot, and not the attractive kind.  But, I was proud of myself this morning that I high-fived myself in the car.

Someone suggested this morning, I enter and commit to a 5km race now – I can already hear my voices convincing me otherwise.

Run Forrest Run …

In an attempt to get any semblance of fitness/good health I decided to join Adventure Boot Camp last year.

I had been lamenting my rather large wobbly bits for some time.  It was only made worse by Georgia constantly telling me that she “loved her big fat mommy..!”  I was pondering the rather state of affairs while driving home, and then a little person handed me an ABC pamphlet at our set of robots.

I never take pamphlets and I never leave my window open, so somehow this hander-out-of-pamphlets managed to evade my ignoring her and my security measures to keep the outside world well … outside.

I gazed at the orange and black pamphlet and  took this as a sign from the universe.  I promptly signed up the next day on-line, it was pretty easy, not so painful and very efficient.

There is nothing quite like signing up for an exercise program, you immediately feel fit and better – you almost don’t need to go to the classes.  Well that has been my experience with both Health and Racquet/Planet Fitness.  Sign up, pay the money and then never go, but strangely feel more healthy some how by just having the card in your wallet.

When I decide to do something the first thing I need to do is go shopping.  So I bought some weights, a yoga mat, and some really nice pants – a little tight all over – you know the camel-toe variety.  But it is Adventure Boot Camp, so let’s live a little.

I realized that in the warm up stage that I had under-estimated how unfit I was.  I was exhausted and mumbling uncontrollably and that was just in the warm up leg of the event.   I was breastfeeding at the time, and my breasts were responding to my crying.  So I had tight pants and wet circles on my breasts …  it was all a bit disconcerting.

Any the way, it turned out that ABC was really good.  The first two weeks required me to seek assistance when squatting on the toilet as I was unable to sit or stand unaided, but after that things did start to look up or at least less like I would need a daily suppository for the muscle pain.

It is a great 60 minutes. You do more than you thought you were able to, learn to swear like a sailor under your breath and insult the instructors mother without any guilt or remorse.

I am not a happy clappy person, so I tended to not get all “yay, whoop-whoop” about the whole thing – I like to suffer in silence.  So even though the instructor was really high-end happy, I think she soon realized that she need not try to sell that shit to me, because I wasn’t buying!

I did three Adventure Boot Camps, and though each one was “moer” hard –usually in the first week I stand there and wonder what the hell am I doing, there is a bag of Chuckles and a box of wine that needs my company more than this crap.  But I endured and was able to see drastic fitness level improvements.  I had bugger-all weight loss, but the pasta and wine gorging might be to blame.

At the last boot camp I realized – more than usual – that I run like a wounded buffalo who is slightly blind in the right eye.

I am really heavy, and really thump when I hit the ground.  I throw my weight from side to side, which does not assist me when I am trying to propel myself forwards.

I also breath like I should be on life support.   This would all be deemed as normal in my world, but when a girl who weighs 50 kilograms comes sweeping past me and her body is aerodynamically designed and she seems to glide over the tar, it really takes all of me not to put my foot out and trip her up!

After one more demeaning class I spoke to the instructor and indicated that my inability to run was really the sole reason for all the problems in my life.  She listened attentively, and made all the right sounds and suggested I join Walk/Run for Life.

My instructor is great.  But she is such a bubbly happy people person, that she does not quite recognize others who do not have good people skills.  The fact that she had paired us off in groups earlier in the class and I had screamed at my “partner” and used some unsavoury tones when referring to her brain capacity to count correctly might have been the first clue that I should work alone and maybe introducing me to another group might not be the thing.

I tried to remind her of this fact without bursting her bubble of happiness and peace to all. Irini gave it some thought and put me in touch with a coach/trainer.

So me and my new BFF got together two weeks ago for a little run.  We walked for quite a long time and then ran for three minutes.  Without using the cliché of  “I thought I was going to die…” which is so often over-used, but not in this case.  I really thought I was going to die.  I could barely breath and it was just awful.

At that point I thought well that proves that maybe I should take up ping-pong or another endevour but this running thing is clearly not for me.

My runner guys said something very profound: “I have met many people who thought they could not run, but I have never met someone who can’t run!”

My tah-dah moment right there.

My upbeat coach/trainer guy showed me a few easy steps and suddenly I could breath while running – hell I even held a conversation – I generally uttered short sentences with few syllables, but it was more than I had ever achieved before.

Last night we ran 3 sets of 5 minutes each. I was fine, I could breath. I even looked up and around while doing it – I have never done that before.  My calves felt like they were seizing and I was going to fall to the pavement flaying, but other than that it was really good – even when he said,”okay stop” I thought wow, I feel better than I thought.

I feel such a sense of achievement … I wanted to scream … I am running , I am running!!

But then I realized that no one really cared, and no one else was going to be impressed that I had just for 5 minutes (times three sessions) without passing out.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so chuffed with myself.  This is huge for me.  When I close my eyes and go to sleep at night I see myself running … how bizarre is that.

More bizarrely I bought a Runner’s World Magazine this morning – it is right under the large Bar One I bought as a reward for running.  I will read it as soon as I finish my chocolate.

Of motivation and mantras….

I really do not enjoy going to Adventure Boot Camp.  I really can’t even fake interest – Kennith can vouch for that.

But I drag myself literally kicking and whining to boot camp at least three times a week. Okay, sometimes only twice.

I was busy driving there last night and wondered to myself how I could explain to anyone how I – the most unmotivated person with regards to exercise – stays motivated enough to go to ABC, when I really do not enjoy it.  Then it came to me – like a little high pitched voice out of the darkness.


It happened like this.

I am lying semi-asleep on my left side, with the duvet sort of pulled haphazardly over my body.  I have a nightshirt on that has ridden up a bit – as does tend to happen as one sleeps.  I am not trying to start a cheap sex blog here, I am merely trying to assist you to picture the scene from the safety of your home.

So there I am lying, hoping for a few more minutes of sleep.  I know the kids are moving around the house.  I really do not know why people think there is a pitter-patter of little feet in a house with kids, it is a more like the sound of a stampede 0f wildebeest.  Any-the-how, I digress.

So there I lie, with just the right amount of saliva dribbling out of the corner of my mouth.  <Too much and it wets the pillow and wakes you up, just enough moistens your lips so they do not go all dry and crispy when you first yawn.>

I hear the distinct whisper of Georgia standing behind me.

Georgia: “Hello mommy” <I can hear her smiling – she is such a happy little thing.>

Me – substituting until real mommy arrives: “Hello my love ….”

Georgia: “Are you sleeping mommy?”

Me: “Not so much sweetie…”

Georgia: “Mommy when I am big, will I be as big as you?”

Me: “errr, I think so sweetie, you are already such a big girl …… please go and watch tv with your brother like a big girl.”

Georgia: ” Mommy…”

Me: “Yes Georgia bear….”

Georgia: “When I am big, will I have a big bum like you?”

And  now I have a mantra forAdventure Boot Camp …

Of Hikes and Tears ….

I apologise for no new posts in the last week.

I dragged myself kicking and screaming on a 5 day hike – the result of drinking and decision-making covered earlier.

The hike offered wonderful views, aching legs, more sweat than I knew my pores could excrete, and many moments where I wanted to lie on the ground and sob like a baby.

Just got home, trying to get my arse into gear, and will blog in the next few days.

Tonight we have a dozen people coming over for dinner – tomorrow I am alone with kids and scared shitless.  Sunday Kennith is off to do the Argus – I would be happier if he just read the Argus.  I’m thinking that I am going to be wishing for the peace of the hike quite soon.

Drinking and Decision Making ……

We have friends who like to hike and attempt to be/get fit.

Usually these plans are concocted at about 11pm after copious amounts of wine. Suddenly everyone has a plan of how we are going to get fit and what adventure we are going to attempt next, and starts brain storming wild ideas that involve lycra and sweat.

Good sense (and experience in these matters) tell me that when I wake up the next morning, we really did not mean what we said the night before. We are quite happy to spend our days lying around and mimicing a sloth.

Recently while tucking into a particular delicious bottle of Haute Cabriére Chardonnay Pinot Noir, Joyce says: “We really need to get fit this year….”

To the chorus of “Yes, yes, yes, we must…” slurp of wine, spill a little on the table, throw some Caribbean Onion & Balsamic Vinegar Lay chips into your mouth.

“Yes, yes, we must, we must.” Lots of head nodding – even some wild gesturing was added.

Joyce says: “I have an idea – let’s do a hike.”

“Yes, yes, we must, it will be so cool..” more wine slurping, a little less spillage, a few Chuckles in mouth – some get in the mouth, some miss and roll across the table.

“Yes, we must do something about this getting fit thing.” Cheering all around.

Joyce says: “I think we should do the Whale Trail!”

“The Whale Trail – what a fabulous idea – I hear it is really pretty.” A little more wine, chips are finished, trying to dig the last Chuckles out of the red bag.

Joyce says: “We can even slack pack!”

“Slack pack!! That is my way of hiking, excellent I will have someone to carry my wine, that sounds fabulous.” Chuckles are finished.  Trying to suss out how much wine I can get out of the bottle before I need to impose on my host to offer me another bottle of this nectar of the gods.

Joyce says – a little too enthusiastically:  “ I am going to find out – who is in if we can go – come on who is in?”

Everyone is excited, and saying yes – people are putting their hands up and congratulating each other for being so keen.  There is more pouring of wine, another bottle is brought and it is all happy fellows.

Next morning we receive an email from Joyce. She has actually found out about the Whale Trail and now appears to be on a first name basis with Luleka from the Cape Nature Office.

Joyce then proceeds to book, and heckles us – mercilessly – to pay and then it just starts to get all surreal.

I put it out of my mind – a bit like the Soccer World Cup, you know it is happening, but really it is so far away that you don’t really take stock of it.

Last time (circumstances were similar) they organized the-hike-of-death affectionately called the Otter Trail. I managed to fall pregnant on the eve of departure.  I am sure it was my body’s natural defense mechanism to get out of poo’ing in a long drop. So I managed to get out of that one, and pleaded pregnancy. Listen there are few times one can play that card, and I felt that this was the time.

Unfortunately this time, I am all out of ideas – I even took a pregnancy test last Sunday, just in case – hike starts Saturday!!