When it comes to maintaining a regular workout regiment, boredom is the greatest opponent of all. For most of us, it's easy to get in an exercise rut: Abs, Cardio, Yoga (Bikram, for the uber-trendy), repeat. And like too much shampoo, that process leaves us cracked, dried out...and dull.

When exercise becomes a monotonous bore, we're bound to give up early. So the best way to ensure you lose those loves handles (or beef up, or hone your Downward Dog ...whatever your intent) is to keep your workout spiced like a Cajun hotcake.

Ultimate Bootcamp is a surefire way to keep cardio boredom at bay. The program, a collective of local fitness instructors, runs participants ragged through a series of activities designed to tone and rip your body in to a sleek machine. The result? A body that would make Adonis (or at least, Richard Simmons) green with envy.

The Bootcamp typically meets one hour per day, four days a week (Mon-Thurs) for four weeks. That's a sweet and sweaty sixteen classes that are built into your daily schedule - thereby minimizing the typical "oh, I just couldn't work it in today!" excuse of the professional slackaholic. Plus, the varied activities and insistent but encouraging instructors keep the program interesting.

Of course, in exercise as in all things, actions speak louder than words. So for those skeptics, I present the following BOOTCAMP BLOG, a firsthand account of four Ultimate weeks.

WEEK ONE:
I am tired. I am broken. My legs hurt. My arms hurt. Some other muscle hurts, one that I was not aware existed until it began to emanate its throbbing, insistent pain. I sleep like I'm in a coma, and when my alarm goes off each day at 6 a.m., I regret to find that no one has pulled my proverbial plug. Once I wake, I immediately debate going back to bed...but my cat's guilt-inducing glare, the memory of my pre-paid enrollment fee, and a cup of black coffee all conspire to get me to Bootcamp on time, each morning, carrying only a smile and some weird sense of duty. When did I get so self-disciplined?

I resent my instructors. They are full of pluck and energy. They encourage me to attain my best while I look longingly to the Starbucks across the street. "One more!" they shout, egging me on to do one more push-up, ab crunch, or squat (I really hate the squats), or some strange cardiovascular activity that may or may not have been devised for the sole purpose of making flail hither and thither like a fool. But "one more!" is a lie. A massive lie. "One more!" becomes "Five more!" They think they're slick, the way they work it in like that. But I will have my revenge. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow...but soon, and with lots of saturated fat.

WEEK TWO:
I guess it's true that the first week is the worst. Now that I'm in the swing of things, I can understand how people would enjoy this so much. The day feels so much more productive when I'm out of bed early, working out in the Boston Common, with morning dew on the grass and beautiful sunshine overhead. God. Listen to me. If I were riding a horse over a mountain with a butterfly perched upon my nose, I'd sound like a commercial for herpes medication.

I even got a tan today. Never get one of those in the gym. Usually I just get an eyeful of people in spandex; people should never be in spandex. That's kind of like looking at the sun, in that they both burn my retina and leave me disoriented. But personally, I'll take the tan.

The morning job we use to kick things off is growing easier to complete. I'm working in more reps to my toning exercises. I'm feeling fit. I have strange, recurring desire to listen to Olivia Newton John's "Let's Get Physical!" Things are strange.

WEEK THREE:
It's official: I'm enjoying Ultimate Bootcamp like I never thought I would. I wear my complimentary t-shirt with pride...but never to work out in. That's like going to a concert and wearing the band's t-shirt; it's just wrong.

I see results. My waist is narrower, my muscles bigger. When I walk, I am accompanied by a glowing spotlight and a Bee Gees song. People stop and stare. Probably cause of that spotlight I'm holding, and that guy from the Bee Gees walking behind me. But regardless, I'm lookin' good.

WEEK FOUR:
I don't want this to end! I no longer resent my instructors; in fact, I appreciate that they've whipped me into the best shape of my life. I will miss my fellow exercise buddies. I now have to return to the gym...but with a new body and a attitude to match.

And maybe now I'll start wearing my t-shirt.

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