Get me out of my rut, and I don't know what to do; I'm helpless. Well, a trip to Iowa did it, and I am milking it for all it's worth.
I fell off of the exercise wagon. No, that's not right: I swan-dived, I belly-flopped, while in full possession of my rational faculties [actually, I have never been in full possession of those], I leapt off of the exercise wagon [joyfully]. Probably the most rational act I have committed this summer.
Now, if anyone out there has been following the saga of our dalliance with the P90X nut-case exercise routine, please do not be too disappointed. I have been warned by the boss that the clock starts again, exercise, diet, discipline, the whole nine-yards, on MONDAY. Tony, the Chief Inquisitor, walks behind the proverbial wagon, hog-tying escapees and bodily chucking them back onto it, and he is coming for me. So--Monday is the day.
But this is Saturday, so I am taking full advantage: Snickers, Pepsi, apple pie, ice-cream, and other health foods are on my menu--until Monday. Then it's back to tree bark and water.
Showing posts with label Crazy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Crazy. Show all posts
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Two-a-days
Still here, still alive, still doing the P90X. Today for the first time, we did the "bonus round". There was a lot we didn't do; I won't get in to that (there would be alot of that to get in to).
Don't be impressed. If you had bugged our basement, you'd probably think we were dying every morning. And, you wouldn't be alone. We think we are dying every morning.
But that's what you ought to be impressed by: we are still available via an earthly area code; we're not dead yet. Very impressive.
In fact, I am so impressed, I've been thinking about starting a club, called WEGASP. Means, We're Geezers And we're Surviving P90X. Perhaps not one of my better ideas; my own wife insists she's not a member, even though she's down there dying with me every morning.
Anyway, today we started serious two-a-days. The P90X morning death wish in the basement with that madman Tony guy, and then a 5K Boot Camp in the evening. This happens every Tuesday and Thursday.
By the way - just to get this on the record - 'we' means WE, not 'me'. Doris is doing this whole thing, too. Very motivational, though it pains me to admit it. It's hard to wimp out of an exercise routine when your wife is enthusiastically doing all the moves. I, obviously, have too much sense to continue this lunacy if it was left to me. But it wasn't.
Don't be impressed. If you had bugged our basement, you'd probably think we were dying every morning. And, you wouldn't be alone. We think we are dying every morning.
But that's what you ought to be impressed by: we are still available via an earthly area code; we're not dead yet. Very impressive.
In fact, I am so impressed, I've been thinking about starting a club, called WEGASP. Means, We're Geezers And we're Surviving P90X. Perhaps not one of my better ideas; my own wife insists she's not a member, even though she's down there dying with me every morning.
Anyway, today we started serious two-a-days. The P90X morning death wish in the basement with that madman Tony guy, and then a 5K Boot Camp in the evening. This happens every Tuesday and Thursday.
By the way - just to get this on the record - 'we' means WE, not 'me'. Doris is doing this whole thing, too. Very motivational, though it pains me to admit it. It's hard to wimp out of an exercise routine when your wife is enthusiastically doing all the moves. I, obviously, have too much sense to continue this lunacy if it was left to me. But it wasn't.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
I just know I'm going to regret this. . .
By popular demand [on this blog, that means three family members],
I present. . .
The Dr.Seuss workout shorts
Quick P90X Update
Still with the program. That in itself is a major victory. Yesterday was core synergistics, today was cardio. Avoided blowing out my leg today; was able to reproduce the forms and moves much better and perform the workout more continuously. Can already see some improvements. Very encouraged.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Whine, whine, grumble. . .
I have discovered what C.H.C. stands for: Clutz Hasno Coordination.
Today was day 2 of an enhanced interrogation routine known as P90X. This torture session lasts 90 days. [Please, please, I'll tell you anything you want to know, just stop! What? You want me to say, "Bring it"? Okay, I can do that: bring it. No, No, I did what you wanted, stop, please, stop!]
We did the Cardio X workout today. It was not as bad (from a cardio standpoint) as I thought it would be. And that's because most of the day I was standing slack-jawed, watching it rather than doing it, trying to figure out and then mimic the chief torturer's moves. This is when it was brought home to me that I Hasno Coordination. [Okay, that was jab, cross, hook, uppercut? Which foot is in front? Wait, wait, stop! What do I do with my hips? Which hand am I jabbing with? No, no, slow down! Which foot is in front? My left? Which one is my left? Oh brother. Cross, hook, jab? No, that's not right. . . What? We're done? But I haven't started yet!]
It wasn't bad, it was just sad. Really put me in my place. I will never show my face in an exercise place again, except perhaps as the fat guy restocking the Twinky machine.
And I also damaged something [something besides my self-esteem, that is]. Some thang in my right hip thang. You got to watch those kicks. You know how they teach you not to bounce when you are doing toe touches [actually for me, they're knee touches] because the momentum might cause you to strain a ligament? Well, let me tell you: once you get that leg moving in a snappy kick, the momentum might carry it beyond where it is capable of going. Uh-huh. Heard, felt, something pop followed by a lot of pain. Missed most of that exercise, too, walking out the pain.
The good news, sort of, is that while I was desparately trying to figure out the moves in another routine about ten minutes later, which also involved kicks, I did it AGAIN.
Now, why, you ask, is that good news?
Oh, that's simple. Because, whatever I destroyed in the first kick, I evidently have more of to destroy. Think of it this way: maybe your leg is connected to your body with, like, four rubber band thangs. I only blew out two of them -- still able to walk, hurray! Got two more to blow out before I'll be looking for the wheelchair version of P90X.
Today was day 2 of an enhanced interrogation routine known as P90X. This torture session lasts 90 days. [Please, please, I'll tell you anything you want to know, just stop! What? You want me to say, "Bring it"? Okay, I can do that: bring it. No, No, I did what you wanted, stop, please, stop!]
We did the Cardio X workout today. It was not as bad (from a cardio standpoint) as I thought it would be. And that's because most of the day I was standing slack-jawed, watching it rather than doing it, trying to figure out and then mimic the chief torturer's moves. This is when it was brought home to me that I Hasno Coordination. [Okay, that was jab, cross, hook, uppercut? Which foot is in front? Wait, wait, stop! What do I do with my hips? Which hand am I jabbing with? No, no, slow down! Which foot is in front? My left? Which one is my left? Oh brother. Cross, hook, jab? No, that's not right. . . What? We're done? But I haven't started yet!]
It wasn't bad, it was just sad. Really put me in my place. I will never show my face in an exercise place again, except perhaps as the fat guy restocking the Twinky machine.
And I also damaged something [something besides my self-esteem, that is]. Some thang in my right hip thang. You got to watch those kicks. You know how they teach you not to bounce when you are doing toe touches [actually for me, they're knee touches] because the momentum might cause you to strain a ligament? Well, let me tell you: once you get that leg moving in a snappy kick, the momentum might carry it beyond where it is capable of going. Uh-huh. Heard, felt, something pop followed by a lot of pain. Missed most of that exercise, too, walking out the pain.
The good news, sort of, is that while I was desparately trying to figure out the moves in another routine about ten minutes later, which also involved kicks, I did it AGAIN.
Now, why, you ask, is that good news?
Oh, that's simple. Because, whatever I destroyed in the first kick, I evidently have more of to destroy. Think of it this way: maybe your leg is connected to your body with, like, four rubber band thangs. I only blew out two of them -- still able to walk, hurray! Got two more to blow out before I'll be looking for the wheelchair version of P90X.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Woah! . . . (Woe??)
Have been preparing for a week to start the P90X (Cardio) workout. So for the last week, Doris has moved us onto the menu, and we are eating all kinds of things I can't pronounce. But it has been delicious! I have been eating like a horse!
The box this silly thing comes in says, "Beachbody" on it. Yeah, right, I thought. I'll gain a beach body, alright -- shaped like a beachball, with all this wonderful eating I am doing. This P90 something-'er-other is not so bad!
Of course, we had not started the workouts, just the menus.
Until today.
Woe is me! I am dead, dead, dead! What have I got myself into? Ain't gonna be no beachball after all. This is TOUGH!
Doris and I are just going to go ahead and rent a room at Wayne Hospital. Gonna need it for sure. . . .
The box this silly thing comes in says, "Beachbody" on it. Yeah, right, I thought. I'll gain a beach body, alright -- shaped like a beachball, with all this wonderful eating I am doing. This P90 something-'er-other is not so bad!
Of course, we had not started the workouts, just the menus.
Until today.
Woe is me! I am dead, dead, dead! What have I got myself into? Ain't gonna be no beachball after all. This is TOUGH!
Doris and I are just going to go ahead and rent a room at Wayne Hospital. Gonna need it for sure. . . .
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