What's a Workout Worth?

My colleague Boot Camp Diary is an amazing woman. She has survived a week at a fitness “boot camp.” If my knees weren’t hurting so much, I would bow down before her. For, you see, I am a boot camp dropout, having gone for only one day. Please don’t judge me; I beg of you.

Having benefitted from a gym’s boot camp several years ago, I thought this would be a good way to jump-start my fitness goals for 2010. I've been working out with a personal trainer for months now, but I was intrigued by the idea of something different. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. For one thing, it meets at 5:45 a.m. In the morning. And it has the word “boot” in it. So I was ready for less sleep and more sweat. What I did not anticipate were the tears.

Where Boot Camp Diary took encouragement from the instructor, I heard judgment. Being called out for not being able to complete a certain number of repetitions, for taking too long around the lap, and for tarrying at the water fountain did not strike me as cheerleading.

At 48, I’ve got extra weight on my hips and menopause on my mind. Exercise is just now becoming a part of my everyday life, and it’s an emotional as well as a physical exertion. That may sound pathetic, but it is where I find myself. I left the gym feeling worse about myself than I did when I went in, my physical inadequacies being the least of it. Lovely. Maybe I’m too sensitive, maybe I’m lazy, maybe I'm overreacting. But even if the payoff is a smaller ass and tighter stomach, shedding one tear over a jumping jack is not worth it. And cry I did as I drove home that morning.

The next morning, albeit not at 5:45, I was exercising, and even breaking a sweat and racing my heart. I worked out the other days of the week as well, on my own or with a trainer. I felt better, and I didn't shed a single tear. To be told that any one workout will suit each and every woman, or that your "mental" state is the problem, disrespects the differences in our bodies, our temperaments, and our goals.

In the end, a gal’s gotta decide what’s best for her with regard to career, mate, hair color, or exercise routine. The older I get, the better—and quicker—I get at knowing what works—and what doesn’t—for me.

P.S. I have let the instructor know my feelings.