British Military Training

Trepid with uncertainty, I walked into the gym hall where more than 50 people were finishing up the previous aerobic class. Most people were huddled in groups of five chatting away about this or that. I slipped next to an athletic looking boy, who, like me, didn't seem to be here with anyone else. Lucky for me I thought. I'll just stand close enough to him that people will think I'm not alone. Then I'll follow his lead and won't be completely lost. My plan was only flawed in that I had no clue what was happening and he didn't see to want to chat. I resigned myself to being an outcast and stood anonymously, scanning the room for a hint to what to do.

A older gentleman walked the center of the room. Everyone else, at this point, hugged the perimeter of the gym, still lost in conversation. Out of no the man pulled a whistle and gave it two short blasts. Immediately, without batting an eye, everyone in the room commenced moving. Some jumped up and down, the people next to me started doing sit-ups, one group was hurdling benches, and others were doing calf raises. Still dumb founded I stuck to my original plan: do exactly what the kid next to me is doing, which was hard to decipher, so I just start jumping around.

By this point I've figured out this is not the weight resistance circuit training I'd anticipated. The room is full of about 20 stations. Each station is a different aerobic activity: running, jumping rope, and wall squats. At each station are about five people. Anyone doing the math can determine there were about 100 people in that room. 100 hot, sweaty, panting athletes. I got to about the second station before I could barely breath due to a lack of clean air. I bet I smelled pretty bad, but unfortunately for me the worst sweat-transgressor seems to be a hairy bald guy in the group in front of me. Every time he got up from sit-ups he left a fresh layer of moist sweat behind. He was wearing a thin white beater that did little to cover his bear-like back hair. After walking past him once--smelling the most horrendous odor I'd ever wafted--my only objective for the rest of the night was not to be in sniffing range of that man. I made it through the rest of the night fairly unsuccessful: his stink left a trail to each station.

The two circuits we completed ended the same why they began. Everyone just knew when to stop and in unison started to clap. This time I joined in vivaciously. I couldn't wait to be as far away from the smelling man as possible!

However, the workout was not quite over. People started picking up mats, which I thought meant we should all chip in to pick up, so I picked up a paper sign that had one of the station's direction on it and looked around for where it belonged. But people who knew what was happening had taken their mates and were having a seat on the ground. The older man with the whistle said something that was undecipherable, so I stood dumb-faced with my piece of paper in hand. Then the whistle man said something again and everyone ran to take a seat. Apparently we didn't move quick enough for him, so everyone had to do five push-ups. Then he continued to speak some incomprehensible form of British and yelled "Oye." A small group of people yelled back at him. Again, we had to do five push-ups. This time when he yelled "Oye" I made sure to raise my fist and give a hearty "Oye."

The workout continued by him leading us in various strange exercise that were all but impossible. When he finally released us I ran for the door, and left the clean up for someone else to do.

Maybe I'll go back. But only so I can see if the faces of any new comers are as baffled as I was.