Brie Goes to Boot Camp
Of all things, I’ve decided to participate in a boot camp at my parents’ gym. From 7 to 8 am MWF for the next five weeks, I will subject myself to not only physical exercise on a consistent and frequent basis, but probably some nature of verbal abuse.
Two years ago, I took a three-day van trip to return to Melbourne from Sydney. I bonded instantly with a fey Englishman named Wayne over our rabid hatred of Australian flies. [A brief note: Aussie flies are insane. Normal flies will generally fuck off if you brush them away enough times. Aussie flies not only don’t fuck off, but return time and time again to the EXACT same place on your skin. They actively seek to get inside your mouth. They are absolutely foul.] Later, we strengthened our burgeoning friendship over a box of wine called First Choice, Rich Red, a four-dollar purchase we split. The box of wine was re-christened Last Choice, Backpackers’ Red, emblazoned with my name, though curiously not Wayne’s, and quickly became a staple of the bus journey.
Wayne and I truly became blood brothers (blood siblings?) on our forced march up Mount Kosciusko (Mt. Kozzie in Australian). Despite the fact that it’s not very high (only 7,000 feet) and you get to ride a gondola up at least half that distance, Wayne and I whinged along every step of the well-maintained, steel-girded trail up the mountain. I was actually the slightly better behaved of the pair – Wayne threw bits of muffin from our gondola at ambitious runners jogging up the steeper parts. I only took part in the shouted mocking.
Through the perpetual and vaguely frustrated encouragement of Bernie, a dead ringer for Jerry Garcia and the trip leader, and after at least a dozen hours we finally reached the top. It was beautiful. In the group photo I have, you can see how happy I am to be at the top, not from exhaustion, but from the sense of accomplishment. Cheesy as that sounds, it’s true.
Though they will be lacking Last Choice, Backpackers’ Red, the coming weeks will surely contain a similar amount of complaining. I only hope they will provide a comparable sense of accomplishment, as well. And more toned abs.
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