It’s 10.30pm, pitch black and I’m lying face down in a murky swamp.
I can only faintly make out the silhouette of a man in army camo, while he yells expletives at me, during a brutal circuit comprising hundreds of push-ups, burpees and sit ups.
The water is so thick and dank, I can’t even see my hands. I try to forget my feeble muscles burning, the bitter cold and the bugs, instead, all I’m focusing on is – why did I volunteer to be here?
When I signed up for Xtreme Boot Camps – dubbed ‘Europe’s toughest military style bootcamp’ – I arrogantly assumed I’d be able to take the workouts in my stride.
Being an avid gym bunny, a cross-fitter and considering I’ve completed four other military style camps with relative ease, I reasoned, how hard could this one be?
“I’ve done boot camps before, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I said cockily to two surly instructors during our induction, who looked back at me, distinctly unimpressed.
Instead the ex-military trainers, James and Tom, made it seriously clear this was not like any other camp I’d visited before.
This was not an expensive boutique weight loss camp for softies and favoured by celebs, instead their extreme programme is inspired by the most arduous regime in the world – Royal Marine commando training.
This is a place where mental resilience would be tested and you would be pushed so excessively, you would be forced to reach breaking point.
Even the strongest of athletes would dread it.
On day one, our group, made up of six men and four women – many of who had flown from all over Europe specifically to be there – were given a fitness assessment.
A bleep test, sit ups, press ups and made to hold a plank. It turned out there was a mix of all ranges and abilities, with myself coming somewhere near the top of the pack.
Yet instead of being weighed and measured like many camps insist, we were to be given a ‘mental test’ – a series of painful challenges designed to make us suffer.
The aim? To see who was mentally tough enough to resist the urge to give up in the face of failure.
It began with Tom – the harshest instructor I’ve ever encountered and who had all the empathy of the Prison guard from The Shawshank Redemption – pouring icy water over us until we were soaked from head to toe.
Once suitably, cold, wet and miserable, we were made to hold a static press up position for 20 minutes. Yes, you read that right – 20 MINUTES.
Of course, being average’s Joes and not GI Joes, no one could hold the position for that kind of eternity, and we were treated to full, force-ten swearing meted out by the instructor’s every time we exhaustedly fell to our knees.
Endlessly harassed to “keep the f*** up” or suffer the pain of even more punishment, every time someone messed up, the entire group was reprimanded with sprints, commando crawls and 300m walking lunges. While the 20 minute timer for the impossible press up hell heart-breakingly, began again.
It was at that point I realised this brutal boot camp was going to be utter hell, designed to strip you of your ego, pride and individuality. I was almost on the brink of collapse and it was only the first afternoon.
When we were finally allowed back to the house – a prestigious and beautiful boarding school in Malvern, Worcestershire – a female team member decided to quit there and then, citing “I didn’t sign up to be told I’m useless and lazy.”
Despite my best personal efforts to make her stay which included a pep talk on ‘reverse psychology’ she left camp in tears, after only three hours. It was clear, to me anyway, I should never have a career as a counsellor and she just didn’t possess the mental grit to see it through.
I set my alarm for an ungodly 4.30am and day two brought with it similar mental and physical challenges; a gruelling quadruple-length Tabbata style of intervals at 5am, three-hour long military style circuits in the morning and afternoon, and a ‘bug out’ punishment during the night.
The ‘bug out’ which on civvie street means ‘to leave quickly’, involved being woken up mid slumber, only to be marched down to the stinking swamp for a bodyweight circuit in the water.
The crime? A Swedish lady dared to come to a session without a full water bottle.
My own personal breaking point came on day three, during a ‘team building’ challenge which almost saw me leave the camp completely and believe me when I say, I’m no quitter.
The task: Flip three tractor tyres 100m in a set amount of time. It sounds easy in theory, but a tractor tyre is MUCH heavier than you can imagine.
However, what finally pushed me over the edge, was continually having to pick up the slack for the ‘lazier’ members of the group and then being punished for it.
Punishments were varied. 263 press ups each because someone was 263 seconds late. Endless 400m sprints to ‘the tree’ and back. Countless hill sprints. Hundreds of burpees. Pushing a van for a mile round a field…I could go on and on…
Exhausted, demoralised and lying on my back in a field, actual tears began to roll down my face as I realised we were nowhere near close to completing the tyre task.
One guy was vomiting, another was in agony through injury and I was sobbing my eyes out because I was so physically depleted from doing more than triple of my share, I couldn’t continue.
What followed was an entire day of in-fighting, bitching and frustration within the group which led to a divide between the ones who were putting in 110% effort and the ones who shirked from the hard graft.
Much like in the military, both trainers tried to instill the ethos of team work, determination and camaraderie to get you to gel as a single unit.
“We are not just looking for physical ability or mental resilience, it’s about the team cohesion within the group. You must work together,” said James, although at the time, his words had zero effect.
To their credit, both James and even tyrant Tom, did a fine job of encouraging me to stick with the programme and convinced me not to quit the camp, explaining that their harsh tactics and punishments were part of the plan.
They deliberately created adversity for mental discipline and to push us together. In short, we would come out the other side, better people.
Day four, by some miracle, we finally began performing like a troop. Punishments were become less frequent and morale was at an all-time high.
Even when they made us suffer a second ‘bug out’ at 2am which consisted of a staggering 10,000 rep challenge split between nine people. The agonising memories of that night still leave me waking up in a cold sweat.
Of course, it wasn’t all shouting and being beasted. We had plenty of laughs especially when the trainers shed the camouflage and we sat around swapping hilarious life stories.
Our ‘yomp’ up to the top of the Great Malvern was a fantastic day, where we all bonded so much you would have thought we were on the set of Band of Brothers .
The food, made daily by a top class chef, was exceptional. Unlike other camps which starve you on 800-1200 calories a day, we were actively encouraged to eat as much as we liked. We needed the fuel to boost our new found developing fitness levels.
While a detailed lecture on nutrition and working out were greatly informative, leaving me feeling like I’d really learnt something.
I also liked that Xtreme don’t value their camp by how many celebrities have attended. In fact, quite the opposite, unless a ‘celeb’ was willing to leave their ego at the door, share a dorm with strangers and graft their ass off, they won’t take them.
There is no special treatment there. No matter if you’re a TV star or a couch potato.
Plus they don’t long for your repeat business. Instead James says ‘In the nicest possible way, I hope I never see you again. I should have given you the tools and mentality so you can now go away and do it yourself.’
When I left the camp on day seven, I was truly exhausted, battered and bruised. But I was also much much fitter, (proven by my second fittest assessment), mentally stronger and full of great sense of achievement.
Yes, it was tough. Yes, it brought out the best and worst in me. But you know what? Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, challenge and difficulty.
If you’re a bride trying to squeeze into a wedding dress, a TOWIE star looking for a weight loss deal or you think by going to Body Pump four times week, you’ll be able to handle it – this is not the camp for you.
But if you genuinely want a challenge, are willing to put in maximum effort, be pushed to your limit and can put up with the instructor’s hair trigger tempers, then I wouldn’t hesitate give Xtreme Boot Camps a go.
I guarantee it’s worth every painstaking minute.
• Xtreme Boot Camps (www.xtremebootcamps.com) runs several camps. Elissa was lucky enough to get a discounted rate, but a seven-day residential camp in Malvern costs £649. All food and lodgings provided.