A Time for Hope (Lexi, #3)(65)
D grunted, possibly unconvinced as he moved in the direction of the crowd.
We quickly threw our belongings into lockers, though I was fairly convinced the last thing we would be at risk of in a place like this would be theft. Without speaking (it was no mean feat stunning the three of us into silence!) we walked out to where everyone else had assembled. DarNell took a seat on one of the wooden benches that lined the wall. He rested his curled-up fists on his knees, as his eyes kept moving, keeping watch.
The area where we were gathered (which I assumed was the “main” gym) had a large concrete floor that had been covered in thick matting. There were about 20 of us altogether, men and women of a varying degree of ages and backgrounds. There seemed to be no common denominator, no thread that explained why we were all gathered together in workout wear in a converted warehouse in Queens. Instinctively we shuffled into two roughly formed lines. Taylah, Sydney and I wisely chose to join the back group of misfits.
The man who had greeted us (if you could call that a greeting) was about six foot five with tanned skin and was probably around fifty years old, though he had a body that would put most twenty year olds to shame. In fact the only reason I would have guessed he was on the other half of a century was from the deep set lines that weathered his face and the closely cropped greyed hair that covered his head. He was dressed in well-worn camouflage pants and a tight black t-shirt.
“Ladies, Gentlemen. I am Gunnery Sergeant Manny Ortiz, but you will address me as Gunny or Sir.” He commenced walking the length of the first line. “I was in the US Marine Corps for twenty-five years and I have seen things that a man has no business seeing. I am proud to have served and I will give my last dying breath for my country and the corps.”
No one dared to say a word he walked around and surveyed the “recruits” in front of him.
“This is not a fat camp nor is this fitness régime, and if you are here to lose weight or get fit, I suggest you move your lycra-covered ass out of my warehouse.” He turned and moved to the back line where he recommenced his pacing. “Go find some kickboxing studio in the city where you can stare at yourself in the mirror and pretend like you actually like the taste of wheatgrass. This is place is not for you. That is not to say that you will not lose weight or get fit here, ‘cause you will, but more importantly what you will gain is inner strength and a mental fortitude that will sustain you under even the toughest conditions.”
Gunnery Sergeant Ortiz marched back to the front of the group where he clasped his hands behind his back.
“I will not tolerate insubordination and anyone who decides that this is not for them can grab their shit and walk out the door. Do not apologize or make excuses ‘cause I don’t want to hear them,” Gunny Ortiz warned. I think it would be a fair assumption that once you walked out the door you would not be welcomed back. This didn’t seem like your typical drop in/drop out kind of gym.
“Now, why don’t we start with a few laps around the gym and follow it up with some calisthenics so we can all get to know each other a little bit better.”
The group stood silent, unsure whether this was a rhetorical question or whether we had a choice.
“That means NOW!” Gunny bellowed as he pointed the perimeter of the gym.
The group set off, jogging around the inner edge of warehouse walls. Taylah and Sydney ran beside me.
“I can’t believe we have to run!” Taylah complained, “You think the least he could have done was offer us a fruit smoothie. That would have been a better way to get to know us.”
“I did tell you this was some kind of boot camp Tay,” I huffed as we rounded the first corner. “I don’t think fruit smoothies are in this guy’s repertoire.”
“If he expects us crawl through mud he can sod off.” Sydney panted beside me, “I haven’t run in ages, I’m already getting a stich.”
“Just keep going and run it out.” I encouraged Syd as we entered our second lap of the gym. We had started running as a tightly formed pack, but the more distance we covered, the more the group separated into clusters of runners huffing and puffing their way through at their own pace.
“One more lap!” Gunny Ortiz announced as we circled past him.
“I’m going to pass out!” Sydney groaned clutching her side.
“It’s not far now, we’re almost done.” I sprinted as we rounded the final bend. I was starting to get the feeling that finishing the run was not going to earn us a break. I didn’t have the heart to tell the girls that though, sometimes ignorance is bliss, at least in the short term.
“Ok!” Gunny boomed as jogged back to where we’d first assembled. “Sit ups! Everyone drop and give me 25!”
Predictable. While this may not be a fat camp, I was sure that after a few weeks of this my ass would definitely be smaller. I sunk to my knees before rolling over onto my back.
“Fuuuuuuck.” Taylah shivered as she joined Sydney and I on the floor.
“Count them out!” Gunny insisted as he clapped his hands loudly. “ONE”
There were random groans from the group as we counted each sit-up out loud. My abs tightened with each contraction. It felt good, the physical exercise made me feel vibrant.
“Twenty five,” Gunny announced as we completed our last one, our bodies collapsing heavily onto the mat.