Bella Wants

My dirty little secret is that I do boot camp. I am a boot-camper. I always sneered at the whole boot camp concept: so macho, so paramilitary so holier-than-thou; "My workout is way harder than yours," so hard, they had to give it a special name so no one would mistake it with just going to the gym. But the truth is, my particular group (I do four mornings a week at 9:30 after I drop my son off at preschool) turned out to be mostly comprised of other women just like me (old and fat), and is one of the best things I've ever done in my life.

The time, 9:30AM, weeds out all the Über-macho guys who do the 6:00 AM session because they need to get to work. Actually, the time weeds out most people with nine-to-five jobs, which leaves the stay at home moms and the counter culture guys -- DJs, graphic artists and hair stylists -- for my group. Our 9:30 crew is supportive, competitive and hard. So hard. This is do primarily to the long-timers who ramp up the speed and intensity. My first three sessions (each is 6 weeks) were unrelentingly hard. In my youth I rock climbed, kick-boxed and even did a few triathlons (the sport distance). Granted, this time around I was totally out of shape and pushing 50, but boot camp is the hardest thing I've ever done, and now four months into it, it's still spanks me on a regular basis.

Now, here's the rub -- my old group is going through some changes, and I don't do change. I don't like this new group of boot campers. They bug me. Worse, the new annoying additions are not being off-set by the old guard. Holly got pregnant, Renatta is training for a marathon and only comes twice a week and Wendy switched to the 8:30. Now I am out numbered by the newbies. They have their own little cliques, and worse two are a married couple. Where do I fit in? Who can I gossip with on the run? Who is there to root me on? WHO? No one. I am lonely. I don't like making new friends. I miss my old boot camp crew. This is crummy. I want my gal pals back.