My cabin-mates are chattering away. "Ugh. Go to sleep!" I mumble. Why couldn't I go to sleep early before lights out?
Thankfully, Mrs. Jones rescued me. She came in the cabin. I heard her ordering everyone to go to sleep. She came in our room. She didn't need to. Me and Carys were as silent as babies.
All I was thinking about was going to sleep. Sleeping... Sleeping...
I was drifting off to sleep...
I woke up. Late. My cabin-mates were up and dressed. Except me and Carys that is.
"I'm sleeping in" I mumble.
"Oh no your not!" laughed my cabin-mates. I rolled over and put my head under my sleeping bag, but they dragged me out of bed.
I trudged over to my dog-eared pile of cloths. I pulled on my track-pants that my Nana had made me, my green T-shirt with the bicycle on it, my gloves that didn't keep me warm, and my nice wooly hat. I heard someone mumble the word 'fitness'. My heart sank to my socks.
"What fitness?" I ask.
"Fitness this morn!" answer my mates.
"Oh, darn it." I moan, "I'm doomed."
I trudge outside, and suck in a deep breath. Then I immediately choke on the cold, frosty air. Everyone is racing along to the forest. I jog, lightly on behind. Oh well, at least it's in the forest, not a bad start. But when then had to run until our legs were like jelly, it was as if this morning was torture. And when we then ran up an almost vertical hill and down again, I felt like the morning was going to last forever.
I slowly scramble up the hill on my tummy, clinging onto roots and trees. I get to the top of the hill. I gulp. MR. LUKES EXPECTS ME TO GO DOWN THERE??? Oh, well, the others did it. I slip and slide down and land on my feet. Hard. Oh, my poor legs. I give them a quick massage and run along behind the others. We run along to a grassy patch.
We are doing bridge! Yay! At least there is some yoga in this fitness. But it is not yoga. It is a different version. Much more painful than yoga, too. It is like holding a push-up position for as long as we can. And when Mr. Lukes makes us do actual push-ups, I think to myself, in the nicest possible way, of course, "This camp is utterly ridiculous."