Boot camp athletics. Have you not heard of this? Oh, your innocence. Tens of thousands of people are doing it: paying a sculpted, gorgeous superhuman to push us around using an agenda based on a kind of excessive knowledge of fancy stuff like kinesthetics, neuromuscular programming, and why god-awful oatmeal and bananas are the real breakfast of champions, not Wheaties after all. The goal can be simply to get in shape, or it can be training toward a set event--like the 2008 Santa Barbara Long Course Triathlon, for example.
What better way for me to conduct research for this article, inquires my workout support network (WSN, also incidentally the same characters who make up my doughnut-eating association, the DEA), than for me to participate in one? Okay then.
Enter personal trainer Rachel (kind of scary in a good way) Rodriguez. For two months (starting oh so soon), I will bow to Rachel's directives, climbing on a bicycle, diving into frigid waters, dropping for push-ups, reaching for pull-ups, essentially behaving like an obedient extra on the Ben Hur set. I'm totally psyched. Let's do this.
Watch for news of training. The triathlon is August 23rd. My father will be visiting and so he will have the misfortune of missing a morning of jazz performances to sit on the sidelines in utter bewilderment as the daughter he thought he raised to be sensible runs around, inexplicably cycling, swimming, and running as if my life depended on it. Note: Doughnuts and coffee to follow.
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Behold Rachel, USAT Level II coach and my superhuman of choice:
