Tears were streaming down their faces. When I told the girls I would be spending my Easter holidays at Bootcamp Bollywood they cried with laughter. From my colleagues I got an uncomprehending ‘Why?’ I’ll admit that working out has not been high on my agenda recently. I ride but simply cannot run. Before Bootcamp I had never completed a full press up and had no clue what a burpie was. But I have dived the Great Barrier Reef, hiked the Inca Trail, I’ve even jumped out of a plane in New Zealand – how hard could one weekend at Bootcamp be?

Very.

There were tears, nausea, vomiting, injuries, aches, pains, friendship, inspiration and laughter. In a period of just 3 days. My butt was kicked so hard I thought it had broken. But I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

My bootcamp suitcase – a lot of black lycra

We arrived at Lifestyle 247 early afternoon on Good Friday and were thrown straight in at the deep end. Given just a few moments to drop our things in our room and change into workout gear we were then marched over to the gym. You could hear them before you spotted their khaki trousers and chunky combat boots. Sergeants Dave and Z from the US military were hollering at a predominantly female group who were red faced and sweating on mats in one corner of the gym. I threw myself into lunges, squats and crunches with aplomb. I forgot to stretch. I hadn’t warmed up. I felt something go horribly wrong with my right thigh. The shiny faces on the mats next to me were smiling though, they were encouraging yet sympathetic. The trainers were shouting something about pushing yourself and ‘You can do it’. ‘Yes I can,’ I rallied (in my head).

Then the session was over and I felt good. For about a minute. As next up was our ‘assessment’.  As much a test of stamina and spirit than fitness, this involved being timed as we completed a 2 mile run (8 laps of the track) and counting how many sit ups, burpies and press ups we can do in periods of 2 minutes. It transpires 2 minutes is rather long when burpying. I learnt that a burpie is a jumping jack, down into a press up and up again. I don’t think I even managed 1, not the way Dave was doing them anyway. I did however manage a couple of push ups – for the first time ever. Woop!

The bootcamp diet is free of wheat, lactose, glucose, salt and caffeine – basically all the good things in life. We hardly noticed, however, gratefully eating whatever was put in front of us that evening. The temptation to sneak some cheese from the kitchen was speedily squashed by a threat of burpies by the trainers, and rumours of smuggled chocolate were silenced by the mention of room searches. We ate our vegetables and quinoa and passed out.

5.30am and the suspicious sound of 80’s music can be heard from outside our room. I regain full consciousness and realise that I am not at a party and am disappointedly not in the least bit drunk, instead I am very stiff from yesterdays exercise and am expected to run 5 miles in 20 minutes time. The warm water is kind to my aching leg muscles and I linger under it for longer than I should. By 5.50am the bleary eyed troops are in formation outside the dorm and we set off to run in the foggy Yorkshire dawn until breakfast at 7am. I can’t quite stomach the breakfast of unsweetened porridge and poached eggs and make another vital mistake by not finishing it all. The day then becomes a blur of jumping jacks, sprints, circuits, abs, yoga, running, nausea, dizziness and very sore thighs.

Before lunch we are introduced to our charming Bollywood teacher. Like a breath of karmic fresh air he enters the gym and takes over from the shouts of Dave and Z with his calming Indian lilt. He takes us through stretches for our achy bodies and then begins teaching us a basic Bollywood routine. My hands and hips are performing well but my legs don’t move so fast. A lump of disappointment forms in my throat. This was the section I was most looking forward to and my body is just not up to taking part properly. Someone arrives with our mid morning snack, a handful of seeds, they stick to my teeth and get stuck in my mouth like a ball of dry cement. I make another silly decision and give the rest away.

The afternoon features more ab work, squats, lunges, dizziness (I am told off for not eating my snack) and some swimming. The pool is a welcome soother to my now agonizingly painful legs and this is the one session of the day which doesn’t involve me coming last. The day’s activities are finished up with a session by Dave on playground exercises. He teaches us how a simple bench, swing and wall can all be turned into workout equipment (I do worry the kids in my local park would bully me if I attempted the moves though).

Dave demonstrates the playground workout

A constant source of comedy throughout the day has been supplied by Bev and Peggy.  They are just as cheeky as me when it comes to giving banter to the trainers, we get used to doing push ups in the mud as punishment for our latest quip. At the end of the day Dave hands over the reins to Bev to lead the cool down and fits of giggles ensue. I’ve never had so much fun ‘stretching’ my fingers.

Feeling like a family on a really strange holiday we all settle in for a sober Saturday night with a sumptuous Thai curry and an episode of The Voice.  Dave gives me some advice for stretching out my injured thighs and I practice it in my room, biting the pillow to stifle my groans. (Nowhere near as sexy as it sounds, people!) After a hot shower and a hot water bottle treatment my legs are soothed enough to allow me to sleep.

Approximately 3am. I have woken up. I tried to roll over in my sleep and my legs wouldn’t move.

3.30am my right leg is throbbing. I don’t know what to do with myself.

Around 4 I decide to get up and stretch. I move towards the bathroom like a character from Michael Jackson’s Thriller video. I try to lower my bum towards the toilet but this causes excruciating pain. My legs give out, I fall on the seat, the bowl nearly comes away from the wall.

There is no mistaking the dorm for a party when the 5.30am alarm goes off on Easter Sunday. I’ve been awake for ages – in pain and not sure what to do about it. I get in the shower and linger there for longer then I should. I am last to emerge from the dorm. I don’t know how or why I got up but I figure that is the point of bootcamp and I must at least try. My interpretation of trying is different to the trainers though. Whilst I attempt to walk, each movement of my legs causing a vomit inducing stab of pain, I am encouraged, urged, then ordered to run. I cannot bend my legs. They will not be running.

Dave isn’t happy. I eventually catch up with the group at the track feeling like a pensioner who has lost their walking frame. “Get down and give me 20 push ups” he barks. I begin to lower myself, one leg at a time. “Not you” he says, “them.” “You can watch”. So my friends, my tired, achy friends who are also suffering from muscle stiffness get down in the mud to do push ups.  And I watch.

“I would rather do push ups,” I begin to protest. It’s just my legs that don’t work. But now also my eyes too, as from pain, exhaustion, embarrassment, humiliation and everything else combined, they are welling up with tears.  I was really hoping to avoid tears. Everyone is sent to do 2 laps to warm up. I am told to wait behind. I walk in circles, urging my legs to end their rigor mortis and those darned tears to go back in their ducts. I offer to walk behind the others. I want to try but walking is all I can offer. I am told to jog half a lap, so I stumble and wince through the pain and think this cannot be what I came for. Can it?

I join the rest of the group who are stretching whilst Dave explains why you cannot stretch cold muscles. I appreciate this. My muscles don’t feel cold though, my right leg feels pretty much dead. Dave leads the group off for a run around the fields and I am left to lap the track. I attempt to power walk but my right leg keeps giving way from underneath me and my knee is taking the flak for it. I give in to the tears. They come in choking sobs. I am a heaving, stumbling, sobbing mess and I can’t stop. Happy Easter Jayney.

Bev jogs over to join me. She brings a knee support bandage and banter. I think I might kiss her. We sit down on the track and she helps me strap up my knee. I remove my trainers and realise my feet are still bleeding. My toes have bled since we arrived but there has been no time to plaster them properly or even change my soiled socks. We are shouted at to get up in the next 2 seconds or there will be trouble. I shoot the trainers a killer look and Bev hauls me up.

The campers continue to pull each other up throughout the rest of the day. We get stuck on mats, struggle with stairs, are the worst Bollywood dancers you have ever seen but somehow everyone keeps going. The more mobile of the group help the others get through the day, mentally and physically. The Bollywood teacher adjusts his lesson plan; we are taught a routine that involves sitting down as moving our bottom halves becomes no longer an option.

I make it through to lunch and judge that the worst is finally over. The low point that morning has not been forgotten but it has at least passed. I am surprisingly free of cravings, not even for chocolate, which I know everyone at home will be consuming right now. Our diet is protein heavy, something which Dave is an advocate of and living proof of its benefits.

Bootcamp kit including weighted vests to be worn on hikes

The afternoon’s activity is an 8 mile hike, something which would usually be judged a chore but in this case is an absolute treat. Dave gives me some advice for dealing with my legs and checks to see if I am up to it. “I want to,” I say. Once my muscles are warm, moving is a lot less painful than not, however, my leg left is over compensating for the dodgy right one so I often veer to the right and threaten to knock others into ditches. Uphill is a struggle but downhill is hideously painful. But we keep going. The group walks for 4.5 hours and discover each other’s reasons for being here – a wedding, a competition winner, a great offer, a kick in the butt.

Late that night I take a train back to London, earlier than planned. I am a wreck. My arms and abs ache but in a good, ‘I’ve worked out really hard’ way. My legs are another story. They veer from seizing up to searing pain. I travel home that Sunday night as I am not sure I will be able to complete the journey on Monday, not without a wheelchair anyway. I hobble home and, it transpires, for 4 days afterwards. Bank Holiday Monday is spent moving slowly, wincing in pain, my stomach heaving with every step. It takes twice as long to reach the end of the road. I stopped at a bus stop half way to rest. My mum thinks I have been run over. My brother carries my luggage for the first time ever.

Four days later I am moving at a normal speed. I sign up to the gym and vow to vastly improve my fitness. Bootcamp had pushed me to my physical limits; some of which I was surprised to surpass, others I was bitterly disappointed to be beaten by. I feel let down by my body and lack of fitness.

The tagline for Lifestyle 247 is ‘for the very brave’. (The very is underlined!) I was brave enough to attend but not brave enough to survive – this time. That won’t happen again.

Are you brave enough for Bootcamp?

A five day package for Bootcamp Bollywood costs £700 per person and the next dates are as follows:

3-8 August; 15-20 December; 22-27 December

Those looking for a long weekend can also do a three night trip for £450 per person. Next dates are:

3-6 August or 15-18 December

For more information visit the Lifestyle 247 website.

Special thanks to Lifestyle 247 and their talented trainers for kicking my lardy butt!