Listen up, Tri-Maggots!

My tri-team had a special workout at "Barry's Boot Camp". I admit I
was a little nervous about signing up; for starters, if you look at
the website you'll see it has nothing but Pretty People. I am not a
Pretty Person, although my cup certainly doth overfloweth with inner
beauty. The second problem is that the trainers have name like Zeus.
Storm. Harley. I'm training for Ironman, not American Gladiators.

Fortunately, our "host" was named Martin. We were split into two
groups; my group was starting out on treadmills, and the other group
was on the floor next to us doing strength training. There was music
playing and Martin ran around giving orders on a wireless mic.

Basically we were given a speed and incline for our treadmills and
would run for 2-3 minutes while Martin instructed the strength group.
Then he would give us new settings. It was pretty good for the first
15 minutes or so as we built up our speed. But then I think Martin
lost it. It was like he was yelling out random numbers; they certainly
didn't make any sense to me. "Speed 8! Incline 6!" (You sank by
battleship!) We were running on settings which I was certain would
violate the manufacturer's warranty.

The other problem was that Martin is a Big Fat Liar. He would say
things like "OK treadmill... I want you to sprint as fast as you can
for 90 seconds then you're done." Fine. But then after 80 seconds he'd
say "OK, now increase your speed by .5 and give me 60 seconds. Martin
seemed to have a very different definition of "done" than I did.

I am pleased to say that I pretty much managed to keep up with
everything he threw at us. After just 35 minutes, I felt like I had a
really good workout and was glad I came.

Oh wait, we weren't done.

My group switched to strength. We each had a small bench/step and had
to get two sets of dumbbells, light and heavy. I don't remember the
exact numbers, but the suggested weights were something like 5-8 lbs
light for women, 10-12-15 heavy. Men could use 12-15 light, 20-25
heavy. I of course was all "hit me with the lights!" and went 12-20.

Well after about 4 minutes I was aching and had to trade in my gurly-man weights for even lighter kiddie weights. We would have to do things like lie on the bench with one foot behind our ear while balancing a dumbbell on our nose. At least that's how it felt. But this was the worst part: after doing an exercise for a while, Martin would count down the final reps. But he would never say "OK, give me 3 more... 2 more.. 1 more..." Instead he'd start out saying, and I swear to you I'm not exaggerating, "OK 16 more... 15... 14..." After 20 minutes I wasn't even weightlifting; I was weightholding. I was laying on the bench without moving, with a pair of kid's dumbbells sitting on my chest. When it was all over we did some stretching. I struggled to lift my arms overhead even without the weights.

Now here's the insane clincher. We were all aching and sore and dripping with sweat, and I had trouble leaving because the exit was blocked by the throngs of people signing up for more classes! We barely escaped alive, yet they wanted to come back for more? What’s wrong with these people?!

I know myself, and I know I won’t drive to Sherman Oaks on a regular basis for a workout. But if you want an intense 60 minutes of training, give them a try.

Barry's Boot Camp