Bootcamp: Long Live Hand Callouses!

After yesterday's foray back into the bi-weekly world of the Fitness Test (I did more sit-ups than ever, but my dead-arm hang time dropped 50%-- that's right: 2 seconds), we had a six-man class at the Bootcamp this morning.

Correction: 4-man, 2-woman class.

In their quest to never quit until Friesell and I look like actual men, Alex and Ruben treated this morning as a 6-MAN class. I actually reached a point where I was going to just plain TAKE a water break and see if they dare try to stop me.

Ruben, bless his soul, was on a mission for me to have a great sense of accomplishment. At least, that's the best argument I've come up with. I was having some problems with the monkey bars (maybe because I had just done a billion push-ups and a boatload of running?) and he was determined to see to it that I won that battle. It became tougher and tougher-- he watched as I struggled and fell, did his best to motivate me by threatening me with 10 squat thrusts for every fall (I did 50 then another 20 and, yes, nearly died) and then, I think, took great joy when I finally did it.

When I was leaving, he looked quite proud when he asked me if I wasn't glad I made it all the way across. I said

What you don't understand is that I'm just as happy when I almost make it across!

And thus, one of our fundamental differences. Perhaps Ruben will mold me into a great athlete without my even knowing.

And perhaps I will then be crowned Queen of England.

Bootcamp: Note to Self-- Don't EVER Skip a Week

After our trip to LA, I found waking up at 6:30am more difficult than ever. So much so that on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday this week, I gave into the demons and just went back to bed. To be honest, yesterday I actually got up, showered, got dressed and was out the door, but when I saw that it was gray and rainy through the skylight in the hall, I decided that Tuesday and Wednesday's plan was probably a good fit for Thursday as well.

Which made this morning all the more important and difficult. No matter when I go to bed, I want to throw a grenade at my alarm when it blares at 6:30. But this morning I trudged through, left the house and headed to Bootcamp.

My entrance was met with rounds of menacing faux-cheers from Alex and Ruben, who both questioned my whereabouts for the past few days. Jetlag, sunburn and just plain 'sleeping-in-is-better-than-not-sleeping-in' did not seem to appease them. As I sat and waited for the 6:30 class to finish up, I could feel the fear building up in my belly.

And then it happened. A quick warm-up led to everyone running up the stairs to the eleventh floor. Somehow I managed to keep pace with Long, WFBC's Captain Endurance. When we got back to 3, Ruben set him on a path of bearcrawling, while I was sent back up to the eleventh floor.

That's right. Double Stairs. I guess they missed me.

For the rest of the class, I was partnered with Quinn, who seems to find great joy and a sense of accomplishment in setting records there (I heard he once did the whole obstacle course in like 15 seconds!). Poor Quinn. Stuck with me. Most of our exercises were based on each other-- I would run while he did jumping squats, then he did pull-ups while I did jumping squats, and so on. Let's just say that Quinn got extra time on everything as my shaky legs adjusted to being back.

But, I did not die. And I'm going back tomorrow. Eeesh.

Triangularity

You may remember back at the end of March that I became a member of the Triangle Lover's Club on Sesame Street.

Many of you have asked when it will be on-- did you not trust I was telling the truth, or are you just SO excited to see me immersed in bright primary colors and shapes?

Well either way, wait no longer because the show is about to air! I got this email from my friend Carrie, the casting director:

Airdates!!!!!!!!

Your fabulous Triangular Debut will be Wednesday August 20th. Also September 17th and November 28th. We don't have dates yet for 09.

Just to let you know....some stations air a day off so you might want to watch the day before of and after or just check with your local PBS station for show # 4167.

So figure out what channel that is for you and tune in!

Back East

Will and I returned home from LA on Monday night and it's taken me a couple of days of sleeping in to get back into the swing of things again. Not entirely sure I'm there yet, but working on it.

LA was a ton of fun and included a trip to the Magic Castle where we saw more card tricks than you could shake a wand at. We didn't know until the last minute that we'd need a jacket and tie for Will, hence the mixed bag of an outfit on him in the photo below-- personally, I think he looked FANTASTIC! Who says stripes and paisley flowers aren't a perfect match?!


We also got to spend some time with my good friend Kate (in photo, the person who isn't me or Will) and got a tour of Nickelodeon and a BBQ and sweet sweet pool time with my friend Ed Valentine who is out there as part of the writing fellowship at Nick.

Other than that, it was much needed relaxation and time at the beach and in our rent-a-convertible.

Oh, and we flew Virgin America, the world's coolest airline. I can't recommend it highly enough. I learned to play video Mahjong on the plane. Need I say more?

Bootcamp: That GIANT Tire is NOT Decorative

Those tires at the Bootcamp haunt my dreams. I've pressed them up and down, held them over my head for exorbitant amounts of time and taken them for a jaunt up and down 8 flights of stairs.

But I never could have seen today coming.

Today Ruben concocted the most horrific piece of circuit training to come along since the advent of circuit training.

Four of us. Four stations:

• Squats (squatting down so your butt touches a single tire on the ground-- that's about 8" for those of you who don't frequent bootcamps, salvage yards or auto body shops)
• Push-ups (or an excruciatingly long handstand, in my case) with your feet up on a vertically standing tire
• Step-ups onto a maybe 2' box with a set of 15lb dumbbells

and the WHAT-THE-F-AM-I-DOING-THIS-FOR leg:

• suicide sprints (2 sets), followed FLIPPING THE GIANT TIRE THE LENGTH OF THE ROOM, followed by a run up to the 8th floor, while all the while Ruben yelling (cheerleading?) for it to be done faster (naturally)
  

I don't know what I was doing in this group. I suspect since Nickelburg doesn't "do" Wednesdays, they crammed me in there in her place. I managed to get through it, though I think I extended everyone's time on their station with my lack of TIRE FLIPPING skills.

Let me explain: this tire weighs no less than 700lbs. Enough said.

My arms and legs went far past the point of shaking from exhaustion after today. They had scurried over to the land of numb, from which they may never return. I don't know how on earth I'm even awake or alive right now*.

Luckily, I'm out of town for the next few days and won't return there until Tuesday. At which point someone might be kind enough to put the final nail in my coffin and float me gently out into the Hudson.

*Nickelburg did make a good point in absentia today, though: should I survive all of this, I'll probably be down to my starting weight by the end of it. Like, my birth weight. 8 or so pounds. 5'6", 8lbs 3oz. Bikini Season, here I come!

Bootcamp: Progress!

I had a late start this morning (read: ignored the alarm at 6:30a) and decided to go to the class at noon. I completely forgot it was Fitness Test Monday!

When I saw Alex walking around with his clipboard, a pit of dread gurgled in my belly. But today, I proved that gurgle pit wrong!

You may remember on the day of the last fitness test, I only managed to "hang" for 1 second. (can you even really call that "a hang"?)

Today? I'm up to 4 seconds! That's right, friends. 300% progress!

And even though there were only two of us in the noon class, it didn't seem to kill me as much as usual. Don't get me wrong, I could barely breathe and/or walk when we were done, but much less so than usual.

Maybe I really am making progress...

At one point, Alex jokingly asked me when I was headed over to the Marine Recruitment Office. I breathlessly muttered something to the effect of "I don't believe in war" and kept on with my squat thrusts. But it made me laugh, as it reminded me of the time Will and Sang and I were in a debate over strip clubs and why I should or should not go to one. My argument was if they wanted to go, why couldn't I come along*?

Sang's reply:

"Because you'd be asking them if they had health insurance and whether or not they were in a union."

That Sang. What a jokester!

*Besides the fact that I wouldn't be caught dead in a strip club unless it was to make sure the strippers had health insurance and union protection.

Monday. Another Monday.

Slow start this morning. Will and I had a good laugh at this over breakfast.

From xkcd.

How come nobody told me Bozo died?

Was the 4th of July such a big day for me that I missed this news item from July 3?



LOS ANGELES, California (AP) -- Larry Harmon, who turned the character Bozo the Clown into a show business staple that delighted children for more than a half-century, died Thursday of congestive heart failure. He was 83.



I don't watch a lot of TV now, but when I was a kid I devoured the stuff. Clowns scared the crap out of me back then, but that treasure chest of toys? That's the stuff dreams were made of.

Not to say that those sad, scary painted faces still don't induce a case of the willies at times, but awwww...

Bozo's dead?

Sad.

Bootcamp: Best Day Ever

I have little to no recollection of today's workout, except for the fact that it ended with my bootcamp buddy Long kneeling on my back and stretching the crap out of me.

Best. Spa. Ever.*

Seriously. If Ruben and Alex wanted to make a gajillion dollars**, they would team up with Long and offer a Bootcamp Spa Package. For the ways he got my back to crack and my legs to stretch, that winning combo could easily be priced at $400,000/month.

Easy.

It's Manhattan, people!

* Take that, Will Schenk!
** A real number. A LOT of money.

Kung Foolery

Contrary to what it might seem like, there is more to my life than my workout regime. Take, for example, this little play I directed (and had a small part in) last night.

It was part of a festival of One-Acts put on by the Algonquin Theater. I believe we were one of five shows last night, and at the end of each night, one play is selected for publication and will be performed again on Sunday.

When I got home, I was delighted to find an email titled "Tuesday Night Selection", which read:

Tonight the judge's selection was "Kung Foolery" by Brett Hursey, directed by Robin Reed.

It feels good to have been chosen, and it will be fun to do this little play again. The story is simple and funny: a man, Barry (played by the hilarious Matt Hanley) is married to a woman, Karly (the incredibly talented Libby Winters), and when Karly's Mom Lois (me, in a wig that makes me look frighteningly like my own mother, highlights and all!) comes to visit, hilarity ensues.

If you want to check it out, we'll perform again this Sunday, July 13th at 1pm. The Algonquin is located at 123 East 24th St between Park Ave South and Lexington. For ticket info, call (212) 730-4664.

Bootcamp: The Noon Class is NOT 30 Minutes Long!

I REPEAT: it's a full hour, kids. No fun when you think you're gonna have it easy and the hell time doubles! There's no such thing as an easy day in the Boot Camp, no matter how many times Ruben says "Easy Day!" at the end of class.

Today could very well have been the hardest day ever and it's my own damned fault. Misconceptions lead to a very difficult workout. Here are just a few of the minor tragedies that led to my noontime malaise:

• 30 minutes? 1 hour? Who knows. I've heard tell of this quickie class, but it was nowhere to be found today. No sir. Sixty hot, sweaty minutes.
  
• 3 person class. Added personal attention. I have mentioned before that I feel no need to stand out in the Bootcamp. I would much rather hide behind columns and inside giant tires. But it was 2 of them against 3 of us-- we were being hawkeyed. There was no way out.
  
• Hot as hell. Everyone recalls Alex saying on live television that "It's nice & cool in our joint... we have A/C!", but none of us have yet to experience it.* I think they turn it on once we've all safely left the building.

Yep, I got some personal attention today. It seemed to be Ruben's mission to get me to jump over the hurdles rather than climb them as I usually do. This left a couple of fresh bruises on my legs, but I managed to pull it off a couple of times. And not to be left out, Alex made it his mission to see me cross the entire set of monkey bars**, which left me with the most hideous dime-sized blisters on top of the callous farm on my fingers. Good thing my hand-modeling career is no longer my prime focus.

And really, who needs two milestone achievements in one day? I'm no glory hog. I'm still amazed I show up each day!

I also learned a very valuable lesson today: Gatorade during the workout is just not for me. When it was time for my nano-second water break, I slugged a slug of orange Gatorade and it was like having a gigantic candy apple shoved down my throat.

Water Break: n. time in a workout used for catching up on breathing. And sometimes for sipping clear, cool H2O.

Even though today maimed and nearly killed me, it was all worth it when I discovered that the doorman of the building keeps a little hobby going at his post. As I walked past him, I noticed something all colorful and shiny. This little old Irish man makes beaded necklaces! It was perhaps the sweetest thing I've ever seen.***

*I live for the giant fan near the window. It feels sometimes like my only friend.
**When I've said in the past that I did them, I actually meant I did half-- there are about 8-10 ascending to the center, then another 8-10 going the other way. Sue me, it felt like an accomplishment.
*** There is no way on earth that this man reads this blog, but just in case, let me make it clear that it was "sweet" in the MOST MASCULINE way imaginable.

Bootcamp: Slept in, Going at Noon

I always go to Bootcamp at 730am. I've grown accustomed to and really enjoy the sweaty company of the people in my class, I like being done early and ... well... it seems an appropriate amount of self-torture when the alarm goes off at 6:25am.

But today, I slept 'til 10 (*gasp!*, 9:50 to be exact) and am going to the noon class.

I've heard tell of this noon-time class. It's only 30 minutes long. 30 minutes. What bad could possibly happen in 30 minutes?

I guess I'm about to find out.

After four days off, yesterday really packed a wallop. A hot, sweaty, that-girl-looks-like-she-might-barf-on-the-stairs* wallop. So today should be... interesting.

* To my knowledge, nobody barfed yesterday.

Bootcamp: I used to have knees...

I never got around to posting yesterday because the Every Other Monday Fitness Test left me for dead.

Although I've increased my number of sit-ups in 2 minutes and got up and down the 8 flights of stairs faster than last time, my pull-up-esque arm hang still leaves something to be desired. I believe Alex marked my entire group down for a very generous 1 second time.

This test is much like the President's Fitness Test I remember from elementary school: timed running, the dead arm hang, push-ups, sit-ups. One key component WFBC is missing is that box they used to measure how far you could stretch. If this element became part of our bi-weekly testing, I'd certainly be farther ahead on my total score. But for now, I remain further than I was last week and at least a good 14 seconds away from having what it takes to be a lady in the Marines.

Today, we who tested yesterday were broken off into our own realm of hell while half the class did their Fitness Tests. Last time this happened, it was only Sari and I who had already been tested, and this was the intro to the whole Tire Up the Stairs Nightmare. Today, just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, Ruben put on his creative cap and nearly destroyed every joint in my body.

We hit the stairs. Up to eleven. Fine. I did this yesterday in just over 2 minutes, so I figure that that's about how long it will be until it's over. Upon returning to 3, he tells us

keep going down to the first floor and back up.

I asked if we should take the elevator back up from there. Not funny. At all. We get back to three and he says

Ok, now up to 12.

Um... Twelve? Did you not just see me go up 8, down 8, down 2 more and back up those last 2? Tack on up and down to 12 from 3 is 9 up and 9 down which by my masterful calculations means we climbed up and down no less than four billion flights of stairs today.

Before 8am.

Then it was on to fun with weight bars. Presses, curls, my very favorite "skull crushers" (lying on your back with your hands in the air at 90˚, you bring the bar down to your forehead (or, if you're into medical terms, your "skull") and back up. I enjoy these because when you're tired, you can actually rest the bar on your head and the pain that creates nearly makes you forget how much your arms hurt.

There was one moment for which I must credit the brilliant Will Schenk. In the middle of this whole arm routine, we girls got a little chatty. This was apparently not Ruben's goal, as he told us, in not so many words, to shut up and do the exercises. I really took my life (and the lives of both my arms) into my own hands when I whipped back with

You are the WORST. SPA LEADER. EVER.

Did I mention Will never lets me forget that I pay these people to make me do these things?

We also did a round of 100 partner sit-ups throwing a medicine ball back and forth. This one always adds an element of fear to the day since I'm never exactly certain I'm not going to lob an 8lb ball into my partner's nose, á lá Marcia Brady.

And we rounded the morning out with about six hours in plank position, just to make sure we got a sufficient arm workout. Because, you know, if I can still feel my limbs when I walk out, I worry I'm not getting my money's worth.