DH and I have recently secured our seats on the crazy train by starting the P90X training program. I know, I know, it’s that incessant infomercial with Tony Horton demanding that you “Bring It!!” in order to get that ridiculously ripped physique you’ve been hiding behind those extra pounds from last years Christmas/Kwanzaa/Hanukkah.
At first I was a huge skeptic. I mean, I got taken by Billy Blanks and Tae Bo. I did The Firm — I mean, an alum from my high school was one of the testimonials! And those things do work. Just not when you’re downing margaritas, grilled ribeye fajitas, and guacamole a couple of times a week — not that I would ever do that (now). My allegiance has been to the double W and the YMCA. However, after all of that, I do find that my clothes continue to shrink from non-use. DH had reached his own max tolerance level and suffice it to say, we’d reached a point where enough was enough.
My brother, in his infinite wisdom, stared doing P90X without reading the materials. He hooked himself up with a guy at his gym who had read all the stuff and somehow they’ve forged an unlikely alliance where they do the routines. Anyway, by the time we decided to get in on the action, my brother was well into his 90 days. He thoroughly enjoyed telling us how relentlessly Tony Horton pushes you to “Bring It”, how your body will sue you for alienation of affection, and how pylometrics is nothing short of walking on broken glass with a hot poker shoved up your kiester.
There’s a guy who does the jump training video, and he has a prosthetic leg A prosthetic leg!
I fully expected to drop dead after the first day.
Thankfully, my body has responded to the hours I’ve logged in at the Y, in particular at Ginny’s step aerobics class. I’m not saying that I didn’t break a sweat during that first go round of Chest and Back, but I seriously considered putting my Y membership and my tennis membership on hold until the 90 days was up. There was no way I could do all that.
DH and I are doing this madness together, which is nice. We boost each other up, we egg each other on. We tease each other when certain noxious gases rip out during squats and sit-ups. I had to stop in the midst of the Ab Ripper X routine because every time DH did a sit up, he let out this groan that sounded like a rusty nail being scraped down the side of an aluminum washboard. My abs were sore from the laughter, not the Mason Twists. And when the decline pushups smacked me around so that I literally landed on my face, my arms quivering (I was fully prepared to spend the rest of my life inhaling carpet fibers in exchange for regaining use of my arms), DH was there to gently assist in lifting and lowering me so I could finish the set. My goal is 5 reps and oh, I loathe each and every friggin’ one.
Anyway, the one downside I’ve found is the time of day we’ve chosen to do this thing. In order for us to do this together, we’ve decided to get up at 4:40am and just hit it. Ugh, it’s ugly. I’m on autopilot at that ungodly hour. Somehow, I manage to get a sports bra on the right way, my feet in my cross-trainers and my body down the stairs in one piece. By the time we’re done, all my pistons are firing, the girls get up and we get our day going.
By 11am, I’m usually ready to hibernate.
The other day, I dropped the girls at school and ran some errands. The sun was shining, the sunroof was open, and I had about 10 minutes of limbo time between the end of one errand and the time I had to scoop up Coever. I was getting kind of sleepy — all that Vitamin D coming through the windows and all. I tipped my head back a bit, and few minutes later, I sneak a peek at my watch. 15 minutes had gone by! I motored in to get Coever, kicking myself for nodding off.
“Hey,” says her teacher, “Did you go tan today?”
“What?”
“Your face! It’s so tanned and flushed. Looks good.”
Uh-oh. Once, we get back to the car, I sneak a peek in the mirror. Not quite raccoon-esque, but falling asleep in the sun for even 15 minutes can do a number on your face.
Note to self: If you’re going to bring it in the morning, make sure you bring the sunscreen for the afternoon car catnap.
