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News
Booyah! Fitness `troopers' enlist for morning Boot Camp
December 31, 2005
By Dinah Cardin
With permission of Community Newspaper Company
Occasional grunts come from about 40 bodies filling the basketball court on Salem Common in a fit of tummy crunches. Decked out in fleece from head to toe, those in the morning fitness routine stare down at their toes, their abdominal muscles squeezing and straining.
In hats and gloves, they take a run around a diamond pattern of sidewalk on the Common, only to flop back on the ground and do 20 more crunches. Then it's another run, or a power skip, and back down for 20.
This is 6 a.m. Boot Camp, brought to the residents of Salem four mornings a week from the Park and Recreation Department.
It won't kill you. But it will make you stronger. A 400-pound man lost 70 pounds doing this, which is inspiration for those who would like to take off a mere dozen. A nutritional component is added for those who want it. When drill instructors Steve Dion and Brandi Hodsdon-Dion remind the group to breathe, the crisp fall air fills the lungs, the yellow leaves in the trees glisten overhead like gems, and this group is generally glad they woke up at dawn to be here.
Some have been participating in this 5-year-old program every month through the changing seasons. The majority of exercisers are from Salem, but some who work in Salem are from other North Shore locales, and even from Boston. Here they are able to skip around in the outdoors before being forced indoors to sit at desks. A few participants have been in their 70s and, this month, a 13-year-old has joined the group to begin each school day.
At the beginning of each $100, five-week session - which equals about $5 a workout - cardiovascular and muscular strength is tested. Everyone, with the exception of the fittest athletes, improves by the end of the month. In fitting camouflage fatigues, the Dions bark out orders and words of encouragement.
"Come on, I know when you're tired. This isn't tired," says the blonde and petite Hodsdon, in her official Boot Camp T-shirt that says "Survivor, Go Hard or Go Home."
Of course, these army outfits are merely in jest. This is, after all, Halloween morning. At a time when the whole city seems to be imbibing and participating in unhealthfully late nights, the majority of the faithful group is still here, sweating despite the crisp morning air.
Bright and early Today is especially interesting, because the temperature is climbing to a mild and generous 60 degrees. With the clocks turned back over the weekend, the dark and moonlit mornings they have shared side by side - when the grunts and under-the-breath swearwords were the main indicator of each other's presence - have been replaced by witnessing a pink sunrise and an increasingly brightening sky.
This is encouragement in itself, which this group will need in November and December, when they will still be out here. The next session begins Nov. 14. Participants will have the option, then, of doing the workout on the Common or at Salem State College. In January, February and March, they will have no choice. The group will have to take it inside, until the slushy spring months bring them back to the Common under newly budding trees. This day also begins the last week of this early-fall session. The class culture is established after four weeks and the exercises have become easier for the first-timers. The Monday-through-Thursday classes are now a comfortable routine, with what seems a lingo all their own. When they are told to run, a girl ribs her friend. "Yeah. Sprint, Peter, sprint."
It's easiest to get out of bed in the summer, when classes swell to 70 participants. But fall is the best time to be here, according to the Dions, who met through their passion for fitness and adventure and married a year ago.
They offer similar programs in Beverly, Danvers and Marblehead. Boot Camp started at the Salem YMCA and was taken over by the Park and Recreation Department in the spring of 2004.
Also triathlon coaches, one thing the couple loves about this program is watching elite athletes work out side by side with those who have recently made a commitment to better health. Once they see improved results, participants don't want to lose the ground they've gained. "That's what keeps them coming back," says Dion. That and the peer pressure. They know if they lie in bed a morning, they will be harassed by their workout buddies, he adds. Just like in the real army, bonds are formed here. The group has a big party at the end of each session, sometimes in one of their homes. "People love it," says Hodsdon. "They form relationships and they get their workout in." The hardest part, she says, is often simply getting out of bed. But once the blood starts pumping, the cold is not even a big deal and everyone begins to shed layers of clothing. While some might be afraid of the term "boot camp," Dion makes the distinction that the mornings are boot-camp style, not boot-camp personality.
Coming to attention While some seek out the morning workout program, you could say Boot Camp found Heather Hughes. She saw it from her bedroom window on the Common. She couldn't escape Steve Dion counting off the exercises. "I would hear `three, two, one ...,'" she says, impersonating the Salem State fitness instructor. "When I first saw them out here, I thought it was a cult. Everyone would drop to the ground in unison. I figured this year, if I can't beat them, I'd join them." Since she started in April, the 30-year-old Hughes has lost about 20 pounds. She has watched her body give itself over to doing more pushups, running with more ease and generally morphing into better shape. Hughes was one of about 10 who even showed up to work out during the most recent nor'easter. "While doing sit-ups, I was making a wake with my body," she laughs, describing the water on the court. Some of the full-body workout is silly, with the kind of calisthenics not practiced since middle school gym class.
With purple elastic bands around their ankles, the group shuffles down to a collection of orange cones, only to turn around and shuffle back. It's around this time that early morning train commuters start to walk past, occasionally grumbling as they clutch their stainless steel commuter cups of coffee. Then the group does what some call the "shuttle run" or the "crab," but here the sideways-foot-in-front-and-then-in-back is called the "karaoke." The Dions can prod these adults to do things they would never normally do. How often are people compelled to spontaneously do the "crab walk" or the "bear crawl" on their own, laughs Hodsdon. Still, one exercise seemingly flows right into the other.
Thankfully, at this time of the morning, there isn't much thought required. Just do. The atmosphere is congenial and familiar as the group partners up into twos to help each other stretch. They clasp hands and use the other's weight to "open the door," or pull away from each other to twist the spine and open up the chest. The cool-down is a combination of basic stretching and yoga positions. As she folds down over her front leg, stretching out her hips, a middle-aged woman sighs, "This is the best part."
Peter Hart also lives right on the Common and used to jog singularly past the group before joining the morning workouts two-and-a-half years ago. In his mid-40s, Hart has formed a great friendship out of the class and now the two go out to dinner. But they certainly can't get too carried away with food and drink on weeknights, keeping in mind what's to come bright and early. "You know the next morning you have to get up early. You do have to temper yourself a little bit," he says. But the commitment is worth it, says Hart, because he just feels better. "Every now and then you have to take a couple of days off," he says. "But for the most part, you miss it." At the end of today's workout, everyone is given a paper bag with a Halloween prize. Understandably, not much of it is sweets. One woman announces that hers is advertised on its packaging as "a flashing and noisy ball necklace." "Happy Halloween!" exclaims Hodsdon, before adding one last instruction. "Don't eat too much candy."
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