"Drop and give me 50!"
It's 8 a.m. Monday; red lights are blaring, and R&B is booming. I'm sweating on the treadmill in a small studio in West Hollywood, along with 24 other people who are hoping Barry Jay will whip them into shape at Barry's Bootcamp -- the hippest, hardest fitness class I've ever encountered.
I've been going to Jewish camps since 1985 and can lay bare my heart with the best of them. But I've never attended a camp as intense as BCI, and my expectations for an epiphany are high, perhaps ridiculously so.