Early: Wake with extraordinarily sore tail bone. Appears I jinxed myself by saying it can't get worse. It can and it did. In defence, sore tail bone not my fault. Blame wet wooden decking and shoes with no grip. One foot slid, the other followed. Ended up on aforementioned wet wooden decking after a rather hard fall, which nailed tail bone. Have had a gutsful.
Friend wants to eat bad-for-her food. Had to drive her to bad-for-her food shop. Friend terribly bad influence on me. Could not resist friend's persuasion. Tried very hard.
Ordered bad food. Within 15 seconds, cellphone starts ringing. Cannot answer while driving. Miss two calls. Answer third. Braden Lee. Asks me if I'm going to put that in my food diary. Are you KIDDING me?!
10pm: In Invercargill at cousin's 40th birthday party. Am in stupid amount of pain. Braden Lee would be proud. Managed to avoid a single piece of the 30 pizzas sitting there tempting me. Also did not touch a drop of alcohol. Would be proud of myself if I wasn't so sore.
Sunday, March 8
7.30pm: Eating dinner. Comment my stomach has shrunk. Not actually shrunk (although, anytime that it's ready to do so I would be exceptionally happy), but no longer require large serving to feel full. Eat from 2-year-old flatmate-sized bowl and am satisfied after one serving. Quite pleased.
Monday, March 8
6am: Back to boot camp. Decided (after sore tail bone incident) best just to rest, not attempt Tobins Track or Memorial Hill and HOPEFULLY have a better week. This morning wasn't terribly sucky. Except I did tell Julia Challenor to shush her mouth . . . not quite that politely. Julia Challenor deserved it.
She made us "sit" on non-existent chairs with our backs against a shed for an excruciating lengthy period of time. While we were in various forms of pain with legs beginning to shake uncontrollably, she started cooing about how nice the river sounded. Hence, I told her to shush her mouth.
Hobbled my way through the running part of the morning . . . dream of a day when it doesn't actually hurt to shuffle. Suspect fellow boot camper Sheena Haywood had worse morning than me. Moth was aiming for her headlamp. Instead, entered her mouth. Reminder: Always run with mouth closed, particularly when wearing head lamp.
1.30pm: Have come across interesting information - 'twas not Braden Lee who saw me at the bad-for-me food shop; 'twas Julia Challenor. Julia Challenor called Braden Lee and dobbed me in. Wonder if Julia Challenor intentionally hides out at bad-for-us food shops waiting to catch out a boot camper.
Interestingly, don't feel even a little bit guilty about eating a tiny bit of bad-for-me food. Figure I have had over three weeks of eating rabbit cuisine, one naughty treat is not really so bad.
Tuesday, March 10
12.07pm: Right now, am putting things into perspective and realise sore knees and painful ankles are just an inconvenience. Should stop complaining. It's one of the only things I'm really good at, so this won't be easy. Promise to try.
3.45pm: Am proud of myself. At Gibbston Valley Cheesery. Am offered cheese. Politely say no. Would LOVE cheese right now but fear if I have even the tiniest bit I will grab the entire block of their award-winning blue and shove it in my mouth. This would be impolite. And rather unattractive.
3.57pm: Email from Mark Wilson. Tells me he hopes I'm still "pumping". To be fair, don't know that I've ever "pumped". Bombards me with "advice on gammy knee . . . hip . . . ankle etc". Drink lots of water, he says. Eat lots of protein. Am in danger of turning into a fish or chicken I've had that much. But I shall heed the advice.
Keep moving, he says. Have not actually stopped moving since 6am yesterday, but OK. Anti-inflammatories. Have not tried those but will get some on the way to my bed, which is where I'm heading straight after work. Stretching. Need to do more.
Colleagues will probably think I'm losing the plot, so best I do that in a darkened corner of the office. Running analysis will happen this week to do a "fix-the-Troxy's-gammy-run programme" to "turn your run from a shuffle to a glide".
Mark Wilson says after running guru Sam Thompson is finished with me "it will look like you're running with the wind behind you, not fighting into a stiff Southland southerly" - or breaking wind into thunder as someone said (not quite so politely) the other day.
Mark Wilson suggests yoga on Saturday. Does Mark Wilson not know there is a New Zealand Open on this weekend? Reporters have no time for yoga when there's golf on. While Mark Wilson also says he thought by now I would have cracked boot camp, he says something else which lifts my spirits.
"If there is something that rivalled how unfit you were at the start of boot camp, it's how stubborn you are to finish it." I think this is a compliment. Will take it as a compliment.
Finally, Mark Wilson tells me Julia Challenor will be holding an extra session a week for "maintenance" after the boot camp finishes. Tells me I will be "extra excited" about that. Yes. "Extra excited" are exactly the words running through my head.
9.15pm: So much for going straight to bed. Have just finished making lasagne. Took pity on Dunedin boys here to write about golf. There are only so many roast meals they can eat in a week and golf is very busy, hence, no time to cook.
So, made them lasagne. Immediately delivered it. Made me a fat-free chicken and mushroom filo pie number. Wanted the lasagne. Just as well it was no longer in my house because that lasagne would have been in BIG trouble.
Wednesday, March 11
7.08am: It's official. I've turned the corner. This morning I felt like the kind of energetic person who loves doing fit stuff and instills a sense of sickness in other, less energised, people.
I conquered the majority of the session except for the running, which is still no good, the "cheer leader" jumps, which didn't do me any favours, balancing on a bench and dropping one leg down and bending my other knee (had no balance skills and have a fear of falling . . . not heights) and jumping on and off a bench - hurt my tail bone good and proper.
The list of things I had trouble with may be long, but the list of things I managed to do is longer.
And did I mention the four other hardy Arrowtown boot campers who turned up this morning and did it in wind and rain and snow? This morning, one of the boot campers, who shall remain nameless, told Julia Challenor to please leave . . . not quite that politely. I marvelled at how it's taken the best part of four weeks for someone to ask Julia Challenor to please leave.
Also marvelled at how four weeks ago on Wednesday I was experiencing new levels of agony from my throbbing limbs, muscles and internal organs. Today is Wednesday and, apart from having shaky arms from doing about 700 tricep dips and push-ups, I feel fine. Yay for me!
Thursday, March 12
10.30am: Visit in office from friend. Friend marvels at my golfing skills (detect sarcasm) before pointing out he thinks boot camp is working. Take this to mean he thinks I've lost a millimetre or two. Not sure how he can tell as I'm wearing 17 layers of clothing, but this is still nice to hear.
12.39pm: Am tired. Energy from this morning has worn off. Tomorrow is the "longer hill loop". Am feeling sense of trepidation. While strength this morning was good, running was not. Tomorrow mainly running.
Am doubtful if enthusiasm about this boot camp lark will be present within 24 hours. However, determination to succeed has not yet worn off, so will spend the remaining time trying to psych myself up.
12.50pm: Am really very tired. Psyching up requires more energy than I have. Want an energy drink. Realise have not had a single energy drink since at least February 9. This is a major accomplishment.
1.23pm: Have resorted to vitamins. Vitamin B and spirulina. Dry retched on the first, the smell of the second resulted in a repeat performance. Apparently, they're good for me. They don't taste or smell good for me. Realise my handbag resembles a pharmacy. Packed full of vitamins, spirulina and pain pills.
Friday, March 13
6am: Hills. We tried to do Memorial Hill. Turns out we weren't using the actual track but an improvised one. While some managed to dart up the improvised track like mountain goats, yours truly spent much of it fretting while slowly trying to pick my way up on my hands and feet.
So, Julia Challenor decided to improvise and we spent much of an hour running up and down a street in Arrowtown which I normally try to avoid even walking up. However, made it through the session in one piece, even if the downhill part of the running saw me moving much like an 89-year-old minus the zimmer frame.
5.45pm: Have just left The Hills. One suspects it's not called The Hills just because it's named after Mr Hill. If you haven't been there, you may not be surprised to know there are a lot of hills.
While the good organiser people made sure there were vans running constantly between parking areas and Mainstreet, one decided one should really walk and make boot camp people happy. Boot camp people should be ecstatic. Have not stopped moving for the entire day. Feet THROBBING. And am starving.
Kindly sports editor Hayden Meikle managed to find me a healthy sandwich with cucumber and tomato. He ate a pie. It smelled really very good. Had to leave media tent while he ate his pie. And his muffin.
Did not anticipate being at The Hills all day. Because of this missed running analysis completely. Only just realised I missed running analysis.
This time next week and it will be all but over. Email from Mark Wilson reminds us we are nearing final weigh-in, measuring and the fitness testing. Am suddenly very scared. Have terrible, stomach-turning feeling the numbers will not be on my side. Suspect they will not have become bigger, terrified they will not have become smaller.
Can make appointments any time next week - think I will make my appointment for as late as possible to ensure I have as much time as possible to bring numbers down. Hard to believe it's almost over already . . . incomprehensible to me is I don't really want it to be over.
Very much like my Arrowtown boot camp buddies and shall miss seeing their bobbing head lamps in freezing temperatures every week. Although, did see one Arrowtown boot camper at The Hills - did not recognise Kate Newman in daylight. Kate Newman realised I am actually quite chatty. Am not chatty at 6am.
So, four weeks down, one to go . . . cross your fingers for me this week as I go up against my mortal enemy . . . The Scales.
• For more information, visit www.bootcamps.co.nz
