As I sit here feeling guilty about sucking down a can of old fashioned, Classic, used-to-clean-blood-off-the-highway Coca-Cola on my “off day,” I’m reminded of the black ice that ultimately kick-started this guilt. I’m reminded of finding that black ice with the instep of my right foot while running last winter. Oh, and I still remember the ensuing splits, groin pull, and awkward moment in front of a school crossing guard which resulted from that black ice.
It was a black on white crime.
I hobbled home that day with two things on my mind: 1) black ice is now scarier than Furbies, but not as scary as the Groucho Marx ventriloquist doll my parents inexplicably bought me when I was nine and 2) I’m done running in the cold months.
After ‘The Fall in the Winter,’ I vowed to forever cease running outdoors from December thru February (Black Ice History Month). But since I tend to devour food during the winter months like I’m a character from Over the Hedge, an alternative plan was needed. Mistakenly, I selected a plan called P90X.
If you’ve heard of P90X, your hamstrings are currently tightening. If you haven’t heard of P90X, then know that it’s something you might want to avoid. The odd combination of letters and numbers amounts to a workout program and nutritional guide designed to sculpt your body with little more than a DVD player, a pull-up bar, and a chair. I imagine it’s how the ancient Greeks worked out back when they were making naked statues of people.
Chiseled Discus Thrower, here I come.
Celebrities such as Ashton Kutcher, Taylor Lautner, Usher, Joey Fatone, and Pink have all endorsed P90X. (In related news, my latest issue of Tiger Beat has yet to come in the mail.) Thus, I figured, if P90X is good enough for shirtless scenes in Dude, Where’s My Car? then it’s good enough for me.
I might have figured wrong; the title is a dead giveaway. The “X” stands for “Extreme.” Edgy. The “90” stands for “90 days,” as in this program takes 90 days to complete. If you’re scoring at home that’s a full January, a full non-leap year February, and a full March. I’ve owned vehicles for shorter time periods. I started this thing before Big 12 Conference play begins. It won’t end till Kansas gets upset in the Final Four.
I have no idea what the “P” stands for. Puny, Panicky, Pasty, Pigeon-breasted. Those would all appropriately describe me. But, I’m sure it’s some personal trainer buzzword that inspires people to take on high-intensity workouts. Bottom line is, ever since running a half-marathon in October, I’ve been a CP90X (Couch Potato for 90 days, eXclusively).
A committed P90Xer will spend an hour of his/her (in this household, it’s both) day jumping or kicking or pushing or pulling or stretching or squatting (partner-less Kama Sutra) or all of the above. For three months. It’s Tae Bo for the steroid generation. Naively, I was expecting some “get ripped quick scheme.” Heck, just by stumbling across the infomercial on TV—while searching for reruns of Small Wonder—I swore I could already feel my abdominals pushing through the layer of QuikTrip lunch residue that had built up over the black ice months.
It turns out, though, P90X preaches the simple truth. It’s like those money management seminars that ultimately boil down to something you don’t want to hear: “Psst! Don’t buy shit you can’t afford.” In this case, it would be, “Psst! Eat healthy and do strenuous movements for an extended period of time.”
But, Jesus Christ, it hurts.
There’s no pill. There’s no North Carolina mom who lost 45 lbs. over a weekend following one little rule. No, P90X is host Tony Horton—who’s a little too chipper and a little too chirpy—and his band of workout maniacs turning nauseating phrases like “Feel the burn,” “Bring it,” and “Do your best and forget the rest,” while denying you water breaks and making you feel bad for even thinking about hitting the Pause button.
Apparently, they’re just concerned with results and not the pain involved in achieving them.
Shockingly, P90X has taught me that there is more to life than your glamour muscles. In fact, in between any biceps or pectoral workout, you might be doing Plyometrics, Core Synergistics, and/or Kenpo. By the way, that’s meathead code for jumping, full body, and/or boxing. You’re not exactly “maxing out” on bench press every day. They keep you guessing.
Tony Horton calls it “muscle confusion.” I call it “muscle discovery.”
I hurt in places I didn’t know existed. For instance, I have a coccyx. So do you. Childbirth, falling backwards off a ladder, and Core Synergistics are about the only things that can make your coccyx hurt. My coccyx hurts. So do my fingers and toes. I knew about them; I just didn’t know they contained muscles.
I walk like I’ve just finished riding Barbaro. I’m sore in places soap doesn’t reach. Menial tasks like reaching the upper cabinets to retrieve Cinnamon Toast Crunch (Hmm. For the sake of Tony, let’s make that Special K.) become a lesson in pain.
Climbing stairs now feels like I’m scaling the south face of K2. Sleep even hurts. And those are just the aftershocks.
Of course, the workouts themselves bring about the worst pain. Every possible exercise you remember hating from gym class or high school basketball practice – wall squats, jumping rope, lunges – is implemented into P90X. It’s not so much the type of movement that causes the pain. After all, jumping rope is no big deal; it’s even kind of fun. It’s performing that movement over and over again that makes shit start to burn.
You begin to wonder if it matters at all what you’re doing, as long as there’s repetition involved. For instance, everyday activities like getting in and out of my car would probably aggravate some non-glamour muscles if I repeated it for 45 minutes.
“Come on, Mick! Load that laundry! Load it, load it, load it! Now to the dryer…”
The thought of only basic exercises and props producing the worst kind of pain and (hopefully) the best kind of results, is actually quite depressing considering the mortgage payment spent on the weight machine that currently sits in my basement. It’ll make for a nice coat rack during the black ice months.
Even glamour muscle workouts are overly simplistic. Push-ups and pull-ups. Who knew that just shoving and yanking on immovable objects could chisel your upper body into a Glenn Danzig replica? Well, who knew besides the Greeks? No need for bench presses or rowing machines. Yeah, turns out we have enough weight to transfer from our own fat asses to do the job just fine.
All this varies somewhat from my normal/preferred sculpting regimen, which follows:
:00-:10 minutes – Seated Press
:10-:20 – Sportscenter
:20-:25 – Curls
:25-:35 – Daydream about breaking 80 on the golf course
:35-:37 – Convince myself my leg hurts so as not to do a lower body workout
:37-:37:30 – Sit-up(s)
:38-:40 – Remember I’m late for something
:40-1:00 – Hurriedly shower, get dressed, and leave…ya know, Cardio
The only similarity with P90X is the length of time. Well, that and I am able to put Sportscenter in Picture-in-Picture. “Breaks” supply you with only enough time to move your chair, hear a witty motivational quip from Tony, and ask yourself, “Why, God, why couldn’t my mini mid-life crisis involve a sports car like everybody else and…”
“Break’s over. Bring it!”
There is one workout where the tough guy, fitness trainer inspirational talk does not belong. Which is ironic considering it’s the toughest workout of all.
Yoga.
Yoga blows, men. I know, we’ve made fun of Yoga for years. The emphasis on breathing. The cult-like chanting. The fact that it’s a backdrop for two female best friends engaging in a paranoid conversation about guys in every romantic comedy we’ve ever been forced to see. We think Yoga is for girls. We think Yoga is for psychotic girls looking to squash their impulse to Internet stalk you.
Plus, Yoga sounds like Yoda. And Yoda is silly…just silly.
Anyway, tough for anyone Yoga is. The P90X Yoga workout is an hour-and-a-half of bending, twisting, reaching, hating, sweating, aching, falling, loathing, etc. You lower your right hand to grab the outside of your left ankle, only you can’t find your left ankle because it’s behind your right ear. Yoga is Twister for adults. Thanks to Yoga, I won’t need black ice to do the splits.
It has its own language. “Ok, let’s go Cobra Pose into Downward Dog. Slowly raise that right foot and into Runner’s Pose. Up to Warrior 1. Warrior 2. And down into the Crane.” I haven’t seen it yet, but this has to be dialogue from Avatar.
Watching the NFL Playoffs Sunday, I even caught myself thinking, Peyton Manning just went back to Plank after that sack.
Yes, P90X has me thinking a lot of things these days. Like, quit. Like, honeybuns. Like, steroids would be quicker. And, sadly, I’m less than two weeks in to the 13-week program. Yeah, I’ve done all this bitching after eight workouts. My muscle confusion is merely in the “What did you say?” stage.
Of course, this is where most people jump ship. If you are going to quit P90X, now is the time to do it. To ensure that doesn’t happen, Tony and the gang urge you to track your results and take weekly pictures of your unclothed upper body.
I will not be taking pictures of myself. And even though I eat fairly well, I also won’t be cracking open the 1700-calorie/day nutrition guide. Tony probably frowns on an “off day” pop or two. And he probably calls the pop “soda.” Which is also frustrating.
No, I doubt I’ll give up. Because I tend to be a little stubborn. But more than anything, I like to complain about stuff. And P90X certainly leaves you a little pissy.
Hey, maybe that’s what the “P” stands for.
Mick, this certainly strikes a chord. Great post.
Nobody else may know what the hell you’re talking about here Mick, but as a p90X devotee it certainly resonated with me. In my opinion, the beauty of the program is that it is just built on solid exercise fundamentals that you can keep using long after the 90 days are through. Plus, it teaches you how to get a great workout using very minimal equipment (which can be a huge bonus when you’re on the road or in an environment where the gyms all suck). And last but not least, it shows you how hard you can push yourself which becomes addictive after a while, and slightly annoying if for no other reason than now you really know when you’re dogging it (which is pretty much any time Tony isn’t yelling at me).
P.S. Do your best, and forget the rest
P.S.S. Now I’m going to go get some recovery drink.
Down South everything is ‘coke’. Pop and soda are for the Yanks.
It’s amazing what a 1,700 calorie per day diet and an hour on the elliptical every afternoon will do. I’d probably also be willing to kill everyone in Haiti for one of those huge wheels of English cheese right now too. Keep it up, Mick!
It’s amazing what a 1,700 calorie per day diet and an hour on the elliptical every afternoon will do. I’d probably also be willing to kill everyone in Haiti for one of those huge wheels of English cheese right now too. Keep it up, Mick!
And ‘pop’ makes my ears cringe. It’s coke or soft drink.
Annick, I expect fully updated blogs about your weekly progress now that you’ve been inspired by my inspirational inspirations.
Reed, it’s good to hear from an alum who made it out alive. Curiously, what kind of soup are you stirring?
Taylor, it’s the classic conversation, “I’ll have a Coke.” “What kind?” “Dr. Pepper.”
Eric, finding a common thread in those three stories is quite an accomplishment. Well done.
Fuck you Mick you rotten shithead! I hope you burn in hell!
Oops wrong thread. Well done and a nice break from all the seriousness and negativity I’ve been reading the last few days.
Oh and I think the readers would be very interested in upper body pictures documenting your progress. Or maybe just a dickpic or two.
Matt, my favorites are the ones that start, “Paul, how can you have no compassion?” and end “I hope your hometown gets blown away by a tornado.” Makes total sense. And, yes, I should go all Greg Oden with the P90X pics.
I’m thinking that the ‘P’ stands for ‘Prison’, as in all of the moves can be accomplished in a prison cell. Are we sure that Tony didn’t serve some time at some point? Maybe for Kenpo assault?
P stands for program.
And yes Mick, I’ll be sure to post some weekly pictures of my progress. here’s an outline;
wk 1: me failing to walk up stars
wk 2: me being helped by a stranger in picking up a a penny on the floor, wincing.
wk 3: me doing the downward dog in the living room while my roomates eat some pringles,
wk 4: me showing off my abs to a couple walking through the park
wk 5: me beating up a homeless guy for no good reason
wk 6: me with taking self pics with a fan blowing my hair, because i look so good
wk 7: me losing a friend after saying ‘just do your best and forget the rest’ when she admits suffering from early onset alzheimer’s
wk 8: me losing all of my other friends because of my persistent irksome enthusiasm
wk 9: me sitting on a milk crate in front of the supermarket’s dairy section, eating cheese, downing tubs of ice cream and stuffing my face with chocolate pudding while screaming “I can’t take it anymore”
wk 10: me next to a chin up bar, crying
wk 11: guys next to me and the chin up bar, crying too, because I can do one handed chin ups.
wk 12: me CP90x-ing the crap out of the living room.
This is super exciting. Mick, thanks for changing my life.
Well, obviously, i posted as “why don’t you all” on Paul’s other article. Forgot to change my name back. I dare you to actually find that comment.
(Yes, this is Annick)
lets play End Annick’s Sentence. Me first.
Why don’t you all…fist yourselves. No that sounds like something I would say.
Why don’t you all…go suck an egg. Hmm, that’s too Dick Tracy.
Why don’t you all…take a minute and look at yourselves before you judge other people. Nope that’s too gay.
I’m stumped.
P90X scares me.
So do all these comments Paul’s been getting on his posts.
why don’t you all… tell Matt Shirley how incredibly smart, insightful, and funny he is?
Brian, I think I could press legitimate charges of assault on Tony for what he’s done to my body. Gosh, that didn’t sound good. And I’ve learned the P stands for Power.
Mysterious “why don’t you all” poster, I want to be there for Weeks 5, 7 and 9. And if you can really walk up “stars” in Week 1, then I want to see it.
Wk 13: P90X cluttering up your parents house even more.
Matt, why don’t you all walk in Paul’s size 19 shoes before you judge him.
Native, I bet Tony Horton’s even read Paul’s article.
So this is what you said in reaction to people being critical of the incomparable Paul Shirley’s article, Annick Labadie?
“1. Paul is a cunt/jackass/douchebag/[insert insult here]. Real constructive.
2. Paul is in search of attention. Ok, we get it.
3. This rant makes sense (for A through Z reasons).
4. This rant doesn’t make sense for A through Z reasons.
Why don’t you stick to 3 and 4. 1 and 2 don’t fuel constructive discussion. Why don’t you try and listen to what Paul is writing, process it rationally instead of blindly deconstructing individual sentences and impressing yourselves with witticisms followed by witty insults. Try and see the point: which is to make sure that mistakes are not repeated before blindly donating. Then, if upon inspection you think this question is besides the point, or think that donating is worth it, then just say why.
Simple.”
So you agree with Paul Shirley’s article? Please, tell us some more about the pitfalls we should be wary about before donating.
Because, god forbid, a nine year old in Haiti whose entire family was just buried alive in an earthquake might actually get clean drinking water tonight if you donate money, right? Or a now-homeless woman with two children to look after might actually get antibiotics to fight the massive infection which will surely kill her (originating from the gaping wound in her leg she sustained when her house collapsed around her)?
Yeah, those are terrible outcomes. We should be extremely careful and deliberative about making sure “mistakes” like that aren’t repeated before we donate money. And, also, amidst the small sea of blood, death, and apocalyptic resonance of sorrow and grief in Haiti, we should be very, very careful about saying anything that might hurt poor little Paul Shirley’s feelings.
Does that sum it up? Do you ever look in a mirror and wonder – am I rotting from the inside?
Fazerski – I’ve actually been working on it. Give it time. I don’t agree with the way Paul presented the case, nor do I agree with his timing. But in due time, with the climate change, increasing income gaps, population growth and depletion of resources, there are some larger questions we’ll have to address at one point or another. And yes, Paul could have done a better job at prompting those questions, could have done a better job at separating the issue of relief aid and long term rebuilding aid, and I’m sure he realizes this now.
Little Paul can handle the hard feelings, i just don’t think name calling is productive at all in addressing those issues. That’s all for now.
Did Fazerski actually go back and sift through 1700 comments to find that Annick’s? Only to re-post and reply it onto stories about P90X and Cheese, so as to stand out amongst the other 1700 comments? Crafty. Exhausting and a little scary, but crafty.
I don’t think anyone read the title of Paul’s article. Kind of sums up the point that everyone’s missing.