Bootcamp, Part I: The Awakening

“So, it’s midnight, and I’m driving through Santa Rosa, hauling a trailer of mannequins, when my truck starts to smoke.”

It wasn’t a joke. It was my brother Frank, calling early yesterday morning to ask if I could pick up a new fuel line to replace the one that had blown the night before and drive it out to mile marker 291, where he had spent the night in the cab of his broken down truck. After a few phone calls and a shower, I was on my way with the part. He fixed the truck. We waited for a co-worker to pick up the mannequins and continue their journey to Arkansas, ate some tacos at Joseph’s Bar and Grill in town, and then headed back to our respective homes.

Hence, no Tuesday blog post. Here’s what you would have read yesterday:

At least once a year, for a seven to ten day period, my body and mind express a ridiculous desire to awaken before dawn and to stay awake for several hours until exhaustion overtakes me and I slip into one last REM cycle just as the sun is about to rise. My dreams during these periods are bizarre.

  • I am in my college dorm, only it’s all women and we have a common bathroom, and Steven Tyler is standing at the door, whistling and catcalling as we walk past him.
  • It’s my first day of high school, and this time, everything is going to be perfect; I’ll take copious notes and read the right books and show up early to every class and get a tutor for calculus. Only I can’t find my first period class. The buildings are where I remember them, but the numbers on the classroom doors don’t correspond with my map, and I spend the entire day wandering the halls, looking for the right place, so I am behind before I even begin.

Henry was out of town last Monday night. I loved living alone, and even now, I enjoy those rare occasions when I have the house completely to myself and can leave the bathroom door open or drink orange juice straight from the carton. But last Monday, The Awakening, as I’ve come to call this period, began. My eyes opened at 2:30, then at 3:30, then 4:32. I couldn’t sleep between glances at the clock. The best my body could do was lie quietly and hope that sleep would come before 7:00, when I had to get up and get ready for Week Two, Day Two of Wellness Bootcamp at Grassroots Yoga. It didn’t.

I signed up for Wellness Bootcamp because Henry and I get married in less than two months, and I’m wearing a fitted, strapless dress that looks great on me and will look even better if my arms are buff. I signed up because this bootcamp wasn’t just about strength training or weight loss, but mindfulness, something I’ve been lacking this summer as I try to balance writing with community work with family with wedding planning. I don’t know what the Steven Tyler dream means, but the high school dream always surfaces during stressful periods and it seems to ask the question, shouldn’t you be doing something else?

Next Week: Bootcamp, Part II: Something Else

Published in: on August 10, 2011 at 11:39 am  Comments (2)  

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2 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. I hate the high school dream. More than anything, it irks me. Because I want my subconscious to just be upfront with me. What! What am I forgetting?

    Good luck to you, my friend. And here’s hoping that rest is in your future.

  2. I have the high school dream but worse, I have the MIDDLE SCHOOL dream. Ugh. Can’t wait for part II…

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