On
any given Sunday, there are flocks of runners circling Jamaica
Pond, near where I live, looking all chipper and invigorated.
I’m not one of them. I played sports in high school, but
I’ll be honest: I was the weak link. Freshman year, I
joined the track team, an experiment that ended the day my friend
Julie and I veered off-course to Papa Gino’s for pizza
and Cokes.
I wouldn’t say I’m lazy. I do yoga. I’d
walk my dog if I had one. During the eight years I lived in
New York City, I got my cardio by running around town to events,
running to catch cabs, running just to keep up with everyone
else. Here in the “Walking City,” though, everyday
life isn’t much of a workout—which may explain
why so many Bostonians are insatiable gym rats: Membership
at the swank Sports Club/LA is said to be near capacity, the
women-only Healthworks downtown is undergoing a $4 million
renovation, and this month New York–bred Equinox opens
in the Back Bay. (The last will house more than 100 cardio
machines and an outdoor obstacle course that, no kidding,
recalls ’90s reality-TV phenomenon American Gladiators.)
As for me, eventually I was shamed into joining a gym, too,
and now pay $150 to steam three times a month.
But that’s not going to help when
it comes to prancing around on the beach this summer. Which
brings me to my most grueling assignment to date: finding
a fail-safe fitness program for the motivationally impaired.
Over the course of a year, I cross-trained with top local
athletes, endured an interesting array of morning-after aches
and pains, and finally judged each regimen on whether it was
compelling enough to stick with—and not just when swimsuit
season looms. These seven made the cut:
1. Suffering as a Group at Ultimate
Bootcamp
I’m sure there are worse situations
a girl standing on a city street corner at 5:45 a.m. could
find herself in, but as I shiver at the cold, rain-soaked
intersection of Beacon and Charles, decked out in $80 running
pants and brand-new sneakers, I’ll be damned. I’ve
always hated this time of day—that horrible predawn
stretch during which only bad things happen, like violent
crimes, “one last drink,” or running around the
Common with a bunch of strangers.
It’s day one of Ultimate Bootcamp,
a four-week outdoor fitness program typically offered weekday
mornings from April through December in four locations around
Boston. Created by personal trainers Peter Lavelle and Jill
Tomich, the hourlong group-based format will be familiar to
anyone who’s ever played organized sports: lots of running,
made “fun” with team activities like relays, suicide
sprints, and, one day, a sadistic version of freeze tag in
which the victim must submit interminably to plank position
(something like a half pushup, for the luckily uninitiated).
The class, say Lavelle and Tomich, is designed
to provide a jump-start for those who haven’t worked
out in a while. Today Lavelle leads us on an uphill jog along
the perimeter of the Common; legs burning, I envy the early-rising
idlers who sit smugly on their benches as I wheeze by. My
coworker Sascha, bless her, has agreed to come with me, and
fares slightly better. The atmosphere is actually much more
amiable than the name “bootcamp” suggests, though
as we puff and curse our way through mountain climbers and
high kicks up the steps of the Soldiers and Sailors Monument,
Sascha and I decide the Irish-born Lavelle had been trained
by the IRA. Later we learn he’s a reformed party boy
who hosts infamous Thanksgiving Day bongo jam sessions. Tomich
is an architect by day.
At the end of an hour, I’m ready
for class to be over. But I’m surprised to realize that,
as the weeks progress, I go to sleep looking forward to the
next morning’s installment. Both Sascha and I make it
through the full session, more or less, and by the last day
I find I’m able to run up the hill (and then some) without
breaking a sweat.
The sell: This group-based
combination of calisthenics, plyometrics, resistance training,
relay races, and partner drills keeps things interesting—and
keeps you coming back. Expect to shed excess weight as you
add cardiovascular and muscular strength: “All muscle
groups are worked in the program,” says Lavelle. “Even
some you didn’t know you had!”
The experience: My jeans aren’t looser,
but they look better. I’ve lost 2 pounds and gained
Superwoman amounts of energy. Best of all: I can run for 10
minutes and not be left clutching my side.
Calories burned: 700–800 per hour.
Class details: $269 per session; less for
returning campers. Weekend and single-day classes also available.
Locations in Boston, Charlestown, Quincy, and Watertown; 617-787-1224,
ultimatebootcamp.com.
... |