Boot Camp Ballyhoo

I am not a jock.

Never have been.

Played two years of volleyball in high school then quit as soon as I got into show choir (think Glee but in the 80s... ha!) my junior year.

I only run if I am being chased and let's be honest, how often does that happen?

Ironically enough, I married a jock. He happens to be a SMART jock, but a jock nonetheless. Pretty sure he was a three-sport athlete in high school. He played football at Wash U. Now he is a division I volleyball coach.

Needless to say, I hope Eli got Josh's athletic genes and not mine.

Which brings me to point #2... I am no spring chicken.

I am turning 37 in three short months. And I am beginning to feel like it, especially after having Eli in December. My body doesn't look or feel like it used to... jock or not.

Which brings me to... Boot Camp.

Four weeks. Monday thru Friday. 5:30 - 6:30 am. (Yep, you read that right!)

I know.

But, you see, I have an adorable 5 month old. Who I want to see grow up. And graduate from college. And get married. And so on.

At the heart of it, this is not about the flab that I absolutely despise on my belly (although I DO hope that some of it decides to vamoose). It is really about wanting to be healthy.

And for someone who only runs when chased... I had to find someone to chase me.

4 days down, 16 to go.

And every muscle in my body hates me.

But I come home to this face and I remember why I am doing this...