Dear Tina,

"That which does not kill me, will make me stronger..."

In my first camp, I thought this was a "quick fix" -- a way to drop pounds and lose inches. You spoke about loss of fat versus loss of lean muscle mass; I heard "blah, blah, blah, blah, blah". You spoke about counting protein, carbohydrates and fats; I heard, "yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda." But, little did I realize, it stayed in the back of my mind. There was some little voice in me that thanked you from the bottom of my heart for allowing me into the world of nutritional education.

As I continued my first camp, realization set in. I was learning! I was eating more healthy! I was becoming a leaner, stronger me! It wasn't because I needed to -- as an adult, I had, I thought, grown quite happy with, what I had deemed, my 'voluptuous' appearance. It was because, without conscious awareness, I wanted to grow comfortable with it. But then, with each day at Boot Camp, I began to know more and more about my appearance, more about why and what I ate and most importantly, more about me. Some days I laughed; some days I cried (as you, Joanne, Christina, Ron, Colleen and a few other campers know); and some days I just wanted to give up -- particularly when I became injured and couldn't run. But when I couldn't run, you, Tina, taught me that it's not necessarily the fact of doing the deed, it's the fact of active participation.

One particular day is prominent in my mind as a remembrance of my first Boot Camp. I was not able to run and was doing weights with you, Joanne, Christina and Ron. We were instructed to tell a story about ourselves and how we "beat the odds". After relaying my story to all of you, I realized how much I had overcome to get to this place, at this time, called "me". It was not because I had done so much; it was because I had, all of a sudden, considered this Boot Camp a part of my normal day -- and this was an accomplishment, in and of itself, because I had found a place where layers were slowly being peeled away -- and my fears were replaced with a new-founded self-confidence.
As a result, I elected to do the next Boot Camp -- and thought in the first week that you and Joanne had lost your minds! Not that this is a bad thing...

I thought to myself that you both were thinking, "New group, new approach" -- but I don't know if I'd make it. Scott, another camper, got injured and wanted to give up. Without realizing it, I found myself encouraging that person to continue -- not because he had paid his money, not because I wanted him to -- but because I knew if he did, he'd realize what I did -- active participation, on any level, makes you want to continue. And it did.

This second Boot Camp was different, yet the same as the first one. Different people, same goals. Different reasons for the goal, same dream. I looked into the faces of everyone I have encountered in both camps and realized one thing...everyone thought they could not complete the tasks given but were willing to try. Some elected to stop trying, but those that made it, did it through sheer determination. We made it because with each passing day, we saw improvement. We made it because Master Chief Tina Castaldi allowed us to strive for the goal and realize that it was believable and attainable.

We each come into this world with a pre-destined plan by the Powers That Be. It's nothing we can do about it and no matter what we do to defer the end result, it still happens.
I have watched you allow your "Boot Campers" to find their true selves via exercise, understanding and knowledge of self.

In my last week of the last Boot Camp for 1998, you asked us to run six miles. Six miles! I told you I knew I could run four. You told me, "I'll run with you." Four words I was not expecting to hear. At mile five, it was 6:25am. I drank water and looked for you. You were standing there, quietly waiting...not judging, not demanding...simply waiting for me to make the decision to run the last mile -- or not. I walked towards you and you smiled, knowing I had made the decision to run. I had already run four miles, walked one and here I was, running one more mile. Mile six. You kept saying, "Okay, when you reach the sign, you can walk. Come on, Yolanda, lift your feet, just keep putting one foot in front of the other." And then you sang some ridiculous song as you taught me about breathing. And you know what? It worked! I didn't walk one step of that last mile! I finished! You didn't care that it was past 6:30am; you didn't care that we were the only two left running. What mattered to you was that I had finished. I was proud because I had finished too, but, more importantly, I had pulled from deep within to finish. I felt as light as a gazelle; although I was sweating like a moose who had trudged its body across the plains for a favorite morsel of food.

On a recent trip to New York, I decided, purposely, to utilize the word "exercise" in my own way, which meant arm crunches of bringing food to mouth. I returned from New York knowing I had to get back to my regimen. And so it began.

On New Year's Day, I woke up and decided to run. I don't know why I chose running; my body simply wanted to do it. Off I went to Lake Hollywood. I hadn't run in two weeks; I had no clue what to expect; only that I wanted to run. I started. My heart was pumped, my arms moved, my legs set an automatic pace. I ran along the road. I passed the lake. I was still running. I continued. Suddenly, I realized I was breathing as you had taught me, I was running at a steady pace and wasn't stopping. Part of Lake Hollywood was closed, which meant that I had to make a choice -- turn around and return to my car or run up hills into the neighborhood. Although part of me said "no", I chose the latter and continued to run. I ran. I ran up the hills without stopping. And when I wanted to stop, when I wanted to walk, a little voice whispered to me (which sounded vaguely like yours, Tina), "Okay, when you reach the sign, you can walk. Come on, Yolanda, lift your feet, just keep putting one foot in front of the other."

Even the slight pain beginning in my leg did not deter me. I continued to run up the hill to the top. I then ran all the way back down, past Lake Hollywood and to my car. Upon reaching my car, I realized something and became teary-eyed (and thankfully, people passing me thought I was simply sweating profusely). I realized I had just run almost three miles -- and, I never, ever walked one step.
I will do another "Boot Camp"...when I don't have to wear six or seven layers to keep warm. But if I had one wish for everyone who takes your Boot Camp, it would be to let the experience happen. It's inevitable; it's unstoppable; and the more you fight it, the more prominent it becomes until you can't ignore it. You learn about positivity. You learn about nutrition. You learn about elephant jumping jacks. You learn about reaching from within. You learn that using profanity gets you ten push-ups. But most importantly, you learn about self. Boot Camp is not an exercise program. It's a way of life. It's a fountain of knowledge. It's a plethora of camaraderie, pain, determination, fear, dreams, laughter and goals.

Thank you, Master Chief Tina Castaldi, for allowing me to participate in the
experience. "That which does not kill me, will make me stronger..."

Sincerely,
Yolanda D. Powell