I am not your Mommy

As Sparta patrolled the gym floor, calling out slackers, pushing others to move faster, to no one in particular, “Where is the runner”?
“Switch”.
On to the next station, the pace is intense, the activities arrayed in just the right order to totally destroy any illusion of “easy”.
This is Boot Camp but I just had to say as she walked past, “Wow everybody seems to be struggling”.
I don’t know what I expected but got, “So what”?
She patrolled on, exhorting someone else down the line to move faster, jump higher, more push-ups, pound the heavy bag or ramp up some other activity that was going too slow.
She didn’t quite say it but I certainly heard it, “I am not your Mommy, if you can’t keep the pace, you know where the door resides.”
This is Boot Camp, just like training in the army or some pro sport; no one really cares if you are struggling.
You are either going to make it or move to a different activity like eating or television watching.
It is interesting to note that the women in Boot Camp don’t complain as much as the men.
I guess that is the fault of our real mommies who tried to protect their little boys at every turn.
I guess most of us are still looking for Mommy.
But here is a little secret.
It ain’t the lady patrolling the gym in Boot Camp.