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.
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