Bootcamp kicked my ass. Literally. I have a broken toe. One foot is covered in the type of blisters that only a med student could love. My arms (and legs and butt) still hurt three days later. It wasn't "fun"; someone told me I was mean; and I have no idea how to fit what I learned into my real life. A life that doesn't include five hours of workouts a day, a personal trainer, or a personal chef.
Instead my life is filled with coffees, lunches and dinners as I try to figure out what I'm going to do next to pay the rent. My life is filled with people (whom I love) that would rather dissect the election results in Massachusetts or plan fundraisers for Haiti. (Again, I love these people but they aren't exactly work out junkies.)
Plus, I'm kinda' lazy. I love the early morning West Wing marathon more than walking in the rain. No job means spending a few grand on a fancy gym isn't in my best fiscal interests. So this is going to be harder than I thought.
So far, I would give myself a solid C (not a B-plus) in keeping it going. Hot Yoga on Monday, no Diet Cokes (since the two at the airport), no potato chips, french fries or movie popcorn. Also, in keeping with my no shopping pledge, I haven't substituted shoes for food.
Yet.
