Mondays are usually my day off from my BKM bootcamp. I stood there deep in thought with my hands in soapy water, contemplating whether to stay or go. I lifted weights just 6 hours earlier but I wanted a little more. I put away the last dish and flipped over my cell phone. It was already 6:58pm. I would be late for Zumba but it was better than nothing. I just wanted a light cardio, nothing all out serious. I slipped on my shoes.
Jack Frost was doing more than nipping, he was biting. I hunched my shoulders, ducked as the cold air slapped the back of my head. This is not the season for a short afro. I ran to the car for relief. I was twenty minutes late. Zumba was in full swing. I looked up toward the glass in time to see Briant standing outside the gym motioning for me to come out. He had that look I didn’t like. Hat on backwards, orange polo, lips pursed in a tight straight line, “Welcome to PT”, he said as he directed me to “my” spot. Wide eyes and raised eyebrows, slowly, “what’s PT?” I asked no one in particular but was open to an answer from anyone willing. He shoved a ten pound kettleball at me. I looked around at the other eight victims. They were not new people but bootcamp veterans. They were all panting and sweaty. They were all at or above my fitness level. Anxiety settled in across my shoulders and made it’s home there, like a yoke. The woman next to me finally answered, “This is personal training and it gets real personal.” We did dead lifts, mountain climbers, jumping jacks with weights, sprints down Torture Hall with weights in ten seconds or under. Then we would repeat over and over again.
He called my name a thousand times. “Montrice, this isn’t running, we are sprinting. All out! All out! Faster! Faster! Effort! You’ve got 6 seconds to get back here.” I wanted to interject. I wanted to tell him I had already worked out. I wanted to remind him that this was my day off. I wanted more but not nearly this much. Someone in the group began complaining about the workout. This caused us to run Torture Hall again.
I had no idea I could run that fast. I didn’t want to be the cause of another sprint and I didn’t want to be run over by the women behind me. The hall is too narrow to run around and pass anyone. I would never push myself so hard. A faceless soldier to my rear kept shouting, “We can do this!”My heart was pounding like crazy but I noticed my recovery time was shorter. I was only two weeks into weight training but the kettle balls were not as heavy as I remembered. I was getting stronger. Between the exhaustion and heavy breathing I was excited by my progression. Briant stopped in front of me, checking my form, demanding more, “this is gonna help you with your fitness challenge”.
Eight days ago I started a local 90 day fitness challenge. Whoever loses the most percentage of body weight wins. Briant had already made his expectations very clear. More pressure, the good kind though. “Your are competitive enough to do it, you are capable of winning I expect no less.” I knew him well enough to know I would hear those words again and again.
Until next time…
Don’t lower your expectations to meet your performance. Raise your level of performance to meet your expectations. Expect the best of yourself, and then do what is necessary to make it a reality. – Ralph Marston