My husband Nick finally broke down and joined the gym that our good friends go to. It is a CrossFit gym, and for those of you who may be unfamiliar with that particular line of gyms you will generally get two responses from people who go or know someone that goes. 1. "Oh my gosh, it is so awesome. Just incredible, you wanna go?" or 2. "Oh my gosh, that shit is crazy." And on occasion you find someone who will combine both of those responses into one like, "It is totally awesome. I almost die every week."
The gyms, from what I gather, are designed around minimal equipment, a good deal of personal training and developing a social culture and a healthy competition between the people that work out there. Which is awesome, totally up Nick's alley. The second workout he attended caused him stumble out of the car once he parked outside our place and promptly vomit. I called him from work later that afternoon and he was an odd blend of super pumped (that he worked so hard) but also really embarrassed (that he puked in our parking lot in broad daylight).
So now that he has joined I have had to dodge another round of "So when you joining the gym?" Which I just can't make myself do. I could barely get up the guts to use the YMCA membership we had a few years ago and work out in front of the overworked moms and senior citizens. Can you imagine me trying to saunter in and count out loud the number of squats, push ups, dead lifts, or whatever I manager to do in the allotted amount of time? Hardly. I once looked Nick dead in the eye and said, "Nick if I ever went I would stop half way through and run out crying." He laughed, cause he knew I was right.
But that is really only half of it. As I have gotten older I have realized that I kind of have an issue with authority. Not across the board, just in particular circumstances. For example, if you are paying my salary, hand me an assignment and say have this done by next week and then leave me the hell alone, we are fine. In fact you might become my favorite boss ever. However, if you in any way shape or form make things personal, as in you presume to know and understand exactly what I am capable or incapable of doing, I don't handle that well. It doesn't even matter if you are yelling at me or cheering me on, the second I hear "You can...." and the sentence doesn't end with permission to get a piece of cake, then I start putting forth less effort on purpose. It is like my basic mode of operation is, "Oh you think know I can do what? I'll show you what I can do, I can stop" and then, in the most passive way possible, regain control and authority over any situation.
Moral of the story. Any sort of boot camp would be the end of me. I would get pissed and just to be spiteful go home, eat everything in my freezer, and not leave my couch for 3 weeks. Basically, I would turn into a Cathy cartoon and no one wants that.