I haven't posted on week 4 - the final week - mostly because by Thursday I was not a happy "camper". Tuesday we did a cone course of footwork and legwork...in the POURING RAIN. It's hard to distinguish sweat from rain, but the burn in the thighs is very real.
Thursday we did another "fun run" to see if we've made any improvements. Turns out, I shaved a minute off my mile, which, quite frankly, is not terribly impressive since most people can walk a mile faster than I can wog it. Unfortunately, you don't walk into a doctor's office or a dressing room with the question of choice: "How fast can you run a mile?" Now, I wasn't expecting in four weeks to undo what has taken years to develop - I was hoping to make enough progress that I could generate enough mental momentum to keep going, you know, the whole internal pep talk "look at the progress in four weeks just by eating better and working out for an hour, blah, blah, blah." In other words, negligible results never crossed my mind. So, when that's what came out - numbers that reflected the difference between a day of bloat versus a day of no bloat - I had not foreseen the mental consequences. "Look at the lack of progress made in four weeks of sacrificing favorite foods and sleep for one hour of crazy plyometrics. So, what difference does it make anyway?" Yeah, that's hard to stop repeating. Working on it.
Friday, yes, I showed up for one more day, turned out to be far more of an adventure than I had anticipated. At the bottom of the hill leading to the park a woman walked out in front of my car. She was dressed in semi-workout clothes so I thought perhaps she was going to direct me to a different location for our last boot camp. Thankfully, my car doors were locked. She wasted no time in moving to the passenger door and attempting to open it. I cracked the window slightly, "Can I help you?" "Where's my biz? He took my truck? He took my purse? How am I supposed to get it back?" After a few more seconds of this I said "I'm sorry, I don't know you, perhaps someone at the park can help." She let me go.
Turns out I was not the only one to have an encounter. Without going into details, she did join our last day of camp by standing on one side of the parking lot asking if we were protesting, specifically, if we were protesting black people. Half of us attempted to keep our cool and ignore her, half of us started laughing at the ridiculous situation. Soon enough a man who had been strolling through the park below the parking lot came up and started chatting with the woman. Our instructor laughingly explained it was "community day". Eventually the new couple wandered in the other direction and we continued our slow torture. By the time we were cooling off everyone had recounted their interaction with the woman and an entertaining story unfolded for a nice ending to the four-week camp.
So, while the experiment was not particularly helpful for me, I survived and at least feel a bit fitter. And, shaved a minute off my mile.