Last week, Chris and I decided to go to our local park after dark and subject ourselves to an hour of military fitness.
It was wet, cold and muddy, but we were bouncing and ready to go. As we put on our blue bibs (blue for beginner, red for intermediate and green for advcanced), Chris turned to me and said “I reckon we’ll move up to reds pretty quickly.” I wasn’t too sure. We started off with a warm up that included jogging, sprints, jumping about and burpees (among other things), a warm up that left me feeling weak and the little faith I had in my own fitness was destroyed. I wondered whether it was too late to turn around. With my face in the mud, I decided I was probably in too far to go home now.
We endured sprints and high knees, press ups and burpee forfeits, but the worst exercise for me was making my way to the halfway line of the football pitch in a press up position. Press up. Left hand, left leg forward. right hand, right leg forward. Press up. Repeat. BRUTAL. I failed it miserably, but I think everyone struggled with it. I ended up doing press ups from my knees in the end because my legs stopped working.
Despite the mud, sweat and (almost) tears, I loved it. The feeling of accomplishment afterwards was unbeatable, and I knew that there was no way on earth that I would have ever pushed myself so hard if someone hadn’t been yelling orders at me. We decided immediately after the session ended that we’ll definitely be back.