Who woke up at 2 a.m. to check on his beef jerky? (And by "beef jerky," I mean beef jerky. Really. It's not a euphemism for anything.)
Me!
Who couldn't go back to sleep?
Me!
Who's now up and heading out for some bleary-eyed 5 a.m. deadlifts at the CrossFit box?
Me!
Who's totally going to conk out as soon as my morning flight takes off for New York?
Me!
Showing posts with label Me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Me. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Why Not Do Another Round of P90X Classic?
"Are you ever going to do P90X all the way through again?" M asked me after finishing tonight's workout. At long last, after doing months of ChaLEAN Extreme (and sprinkling in a mix of Insanity, P90X, P90X+, and Jillian Michaels DVD routines), M's thinking about starting her first 90-day round of P90X Classic. I guess she wanted to see if I might want to join her.
"I don't think so," I replied.
But her question got me thinking. Why not do another round? Plenty of P90X grads have repeated the program several times and continue to see improvements in their overall fitness. And God knows I haven't yet mastered all the moves introduced by Tony Horton -- especially the twistiest ones in Yoga X. So why didn't I repeat P90X immediately after finishing Round 1? And why don't I have plans to do another 90 consecutive days of P90X?
I can think of five reasons.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Wait - Why I Am Doing This Again?
My brother-in-law surveyed our home gym last night and listened as I described my P90X fitness plan. He then inquired: "What's the point? What are you looking to get out of this?"
It was a good, fair question. I mentally scanned through the list of possible responses before shrugging and saying, "I like being fit and healthy -- it makes me feel good."
I'm not sure he was convinced. And admittedly, my response was less than complete; it didn't explain why I couldn't do something less complicated and time-consuming to get healthy or feel good.
To be honest, and in retrospect, I should have provided the full answer: I want to look good. I want to feel good. I want to be healthy and fit. I want to test myself and see what my body can do. I want to do something "EXTREME" because the rest of my daily routine is anything BUT.
Also? I want to get the most out of my $150.
It was a good, fair question. I mentally scanned through the list of possible responses before shrugging and saying, "I like being fit and healthy -- it makes me feel good."
I'm not sure he was convinced. And admittedly, my response was less than complete; it didn't explain why I couldn't do something less complicated and time-consuming to get healthy or feel good.
To be honest, and in retrospect, I should have provided the full answer: I want to look good. I want to feel good. I want to be healthy and fit. I want to test myself and see what my body can do. I want to do something "EXTREME" because the rest of my daily routine is anything BUT.
Also? I want to get the most out of my $150.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
A History of Flab
While I await the arrival of my P90X package, I thought I'd take the time to outline my personal history with fitness. From a relative standpoint, it's actually pretty short, since until a few years ago, the only running I did was to hide from my P.E. teachers.
I was not, by any stretch of the imagination, an athletic child. My parents didn't push sports. My dad, in particular, preferred that I engage in sedentary pursuits, like reading, drawing and sitting as motionless as possible. And while my grandmother looked after us kids during the day, she did it from an armchair in front of the Lawrence Welk show, so we were pretty much house-bound. In elementary school, I'm fairly certain I failed the President's Physical Fitness Test because I couldn't perform a single chin up. To borrow a line from Howard Stern, I was raised like a veal.
Thankfully, I never had a sweet tooth, and my diet was okay, so I never got chubby. Still, I was a flabby, unathletic kid, with no strength, endurance, physical coordination, flexibility or balance. In eighth grade P.E., our class had to run laps around the school for a half hour. A friend and I ran until we were just out of sight of our gym teacher, and then hid in the bushes until class ended.
In high school, to avoid P.E., my best friend and I joined a gym. (At our school, we could get ourselves excused from P.E. if we engaged in some sort of extracurricular sport or exercise program, and my buddy's dad got us a cheap membership at his gym.) My friend and I went regularly -- twice a week! -- and over the course of a year or so, I ended up adding some muscle to my frame. But although I learned a lot about how to perform basic resistance exercises (bench presses, lat pull-downs, leg presses, etc.) and got acquainted with concepts like muscle hypertrophy and pyramiding sets, I never took the weight training very seriously. It didn't help that our assigned personal trainer spent most of his time staring at his own abs in the mirror and ignoring us, but we didn't exactly help ourselves, either: After every workout, we'd reward ourselves with a big-ass, sugary ICEE and a cheesesteak with fries.
But it was in college that I really let myself go.
I was the poster child for the "Freshman 15." I subsisted entirely on fatty, carb-loaded foods served buffet-style in my dorm cafeteria: fries, ice cream, spaghetti, fried chicken, pizza. Meanwhile, I exercised as little as humanly possible. A good friend of mine would drag me to the gym with her every morning before class, but while she worked out like a maniac, I slept on a bench in the hallway. Not surprisingly, I got tubby.
In my final semester of college, after my girlfriend moved back home, I took it up a notch and ate with abandon. Breakfast consisted of a chocolate almond croissant. Lunch meant grabbing a Chinese takeout box of golf ball-sized fried, batter-coated chicken chunks with sweet and sour sauce and white rice (and a single piece of broccoli -- my one concession to the vegetable food group). My afternoon snack was a giant slice of pepperoni pizza, and dinner was a heavy-duty fast food meal from Foster's Freeze: a greasy fried chicken sandwich, a heaping order of fries and an enormous strawberry milkshake.
It wasn't until I moved across the country to attend law school that I started shrinking back to a more normal size.
Of course, I didn't lose weight in a healthy way or for healthy reasons. I shed pounds because I was depressed -- I hated my school, I hated the city in which I lived, and I missed my girlfriend, who still lived on the opposite coast. And without a car, I didn't have easy access to fast food chains and pizza joints. This doesn't mean I started watching my nutrition: When I wasn't catching rides to local restaurants with friends, I ate nothing but frozen dinners and Triscuits. (Having only two items on my grocery list made shopping a breeze, and I was too depressed to care about nutrition or variety.) My apartment building had a fitness center in the basement, and since I had trouble sleeping, I spent my evenings running raggedly on the treadmill, glassy eyes glued to whatever was on TV. (It was usually Montel Williams or Jerry Springer. Classy!) I got skinny-fat; I lost weight but built no muscle. Still, I was slowly lurching my way out of the flabby hell I'd entered during college.
After law school, when I returned home to begin my career as a wage slave at a law firm, I put back on some pounds, which wasn't hard to do given the long hours chained to my desk and the restaurant meals charged to the firm. I had a membership to a fitness center (and actually represented a chain of gyms), but rarely stopped in to work out, despite the close proximity of the gym to my office. I didn't get as big and sloppy as I was in college, but after a few years of padding my midsection with lard, I felt sluggish, slow and gross.
To address this, I took up running. Every day, I ran 4 to 6 miles around a lake near my house or in the park. I ran up and down hills, on wooded trails and up steep inclines. I ate better. It was fucking hard, but I felt great. The pounds melted off. My legs were strong. I was averaging 25-30 miles a week, gaining endurance and speed, and soon began interval training.
Things were changing on the home and career fronts, too. After years of the law firm grind, I managed to land a new, less stressful and more balanced job. And M and I moved out of the city and fled to the 'burbs, where runners ruled the road, and where a gym was conveniently located less than half a mile from our house. So I decided to start weight training, too. I began working out religiously. With the help of a trainer, I developed a full body workout routine. I signed up for the FitLinxx exercise tracking system at the gym, and started competing against myself and other gym rats for the most weight lifted, the most gym visits, the most reps. This was the perfect motivation tool -- I wanted FitLinxx's validation that I was lifting more than anyone else at the gym. It was structured and data-driven; I could see the results when the Fitlinxx results were posted on the wall every month. I loved it. I hit the gym twice a day, for a morning workout and an evening workout. I made sure I devoted at least an hour a day on weight training, and a half hour a day on cardio. I kept running. And over the holidays, M and I spent a few days (and a lot of cash) at Canyon Ranch in Tucson, where I learned even more about fitness and nutrition and incorporated my newfound knowledge into my workouts.
But as with most things, I eventully got bored with the repetitive nature of my weights-and-cardio routine. After our second kid was born and I got busier at work, I cut back on my workouts, and for the past year and half, I've been visiting the gym twice a week (at most) rather than twice a day. At night, after the kids are in bed, I make feeble attempts to work out in our home gym, but even when I manage to escape the gravitational pull of the couch and television remote, I end up exercising on cruise control, barely breaking a sweat on the elliptical machine or calling it a day after just a few sets of half-assed bench presses and back rows. I've been backsliding.
I need the motivation to push through this period of laziness and stagnation, and get fit. Hopefully, with P90X, I'll find the structure and motivation I need.
I'm going to use this blog to keep myself accountable to the program. And I'm going to do my damndest to post every single day. I've seen other P90X blogs that trail off after a while; they're like ghost ships sailing around the Internet, waiting for their captains to reappear. I'm determined not to abandon ship. I doubt anyone will ever read this, but I know I'll be more likely to keep P90Xing if the alternative is potential public humiliation.
Besides, it's only 90 days, right?
I was not, by any stretch of the imagination, an athletic child. My parents didn't push sports. My dad, in particular, preferred that I engage in sedentary pursuits, like reading, drawing and sitting as motionless as possible. And while my grandmother looked after us kids during the day, she did it from an armchair in front of the Lawrence Welk show, so we were pretty much house-bound. In elementary school, I'm fairly certain I failed the President's Physical Fitness Test because I couldn't perform a single chin up. To borrow a line from Howard Stern, I was raised like a veal.
Thankfully, I never had a sweet tooth, and my diet was okay, so I never got chubby. Still, I was a flabby, unathletic kid, with no strength, endurance, physical coordination, flexibility or balance. In eighth grade P.E., our class had to run laps around the school for a half hour. A friend and I ran until we were just out of sight of our gym teacher, and then hid in the bushes until class ended.
In high school, to avoid P.E., my best friend and I joined a gym. (At our school, we could get ourselves excused from P.E. if we engaged in some sort of extracurricular sport or exercise program, and my buddy's dad got us a cheap membership at his gym.) My friend and I went regularly -- twice a week! -- and over the course of a year or so, I ended up adding some muscle to my frame. But although I learned a lot about how to perform basic resistance exercises (bench presses, lat pull-downs, leg presses, etc.) and got acquainted with concepts like muscle hypertrophy and pyramiding sets, I never took the weight training very seriously. It didn't help that our assigned personal trainer spent most of his time staring at his own abs in the mirror and ignoring us, but we didn't exactly help ourselves, either: After every workout, we'd reward ourselves with a big-ass, sugary ICEE and a cheesesteak with fries.
But it was in college that I really let myself go.
I was the poster child for the "Freshman 15." I subsisted entirely on fatty, carb-loaded foods served buffet-style in my dorm cafeteria: fries, ice cream, spaghetti, fried chicken, pizza. Meanwhile, I exercised as little as humanly possible. A good friend of mine would drag me to the gym with her every morning before class, but while she worked out like a maniac, I slept on a bench in the hallway. Not surprisingly, I got tubby.
In my final semester of college, after my girlfriend moved back home, I took it up a notch and ate with abandon. Breakfast consisted of a chocolate almond croissant. Lunch meant grabbing a Chinese takeout box of golf ball-sized fried, batter-coated chicken chunks with sweet and sour sauce and white rice (and a single piece of broccoli -- my one concession to the vegetable food group). My afternoon snack was a giant slice of pepperoni pizza, and dinner was a heavy-duty fast food meal from Foster's Freeze: a greasy fried chicken sandwich, a heaping order of fries and an enormous strawberry milkshake.
It wasn't until I moved across the country to attend law school that I started shrinking back to a more normal size.
Of course, I didn't lose weight in a healthy way or for healthy reasons. I shed pounds because I was depressed -- I hated my school, I hated the city in which I lived, and I missed my girlfriend, who still lived on the opposite coast. And without a car, I didn't have easy access to fast food chains and pizza joints. This doesn't mean I started watching my nutrition: When I wasn't catching rides to local restaurants with friends, I ate nothing but frozen dinners and Triscuits. (Having only two items on my grocery list made shopping a breeze, and I was too depressed to care about nutrition or variety.) My apartment building had a fitness center in the basement, and since I had trouble sleeping, I spent my evenings running raggedly on the treadmill, glassy eyes glued to whatever was on TV. (It was usually Montel Williams or Jerry Springer. Classy!) I got skinny-fat; I lost weight but built no muscle. Still, I was slowly lurching my way out of the flabby hell I'd entered during college.
After law school, when I returned home to begin my career as a wage slave at a law firm, I put back on some pounds, which wasn't hard to do given the long hours chained to my desk and the restaurant meals charged to the firm. I had a membership to a fitness center (and actually represented a chain of gyms), but rarely stopped in to work out, despite the close proximity of the gym to my office. I didn't get as big and sloppy as I was in college, but after a few years of padding my midsection with lard, I felt sluggish, slow and gross.
To address this, I took up running. Every day, I ran 4 to 6 miles around a lake near my house or in the park. I ran up and down hills, on wooded trails and up steep inclines. I ate better. It was fucking hard, but I felt great. The pounds melted off. My legs were strong. I was averaging 25-30 miles a week, gaining endurance and speed, and soon began interval training.
Things were changing on the home and career fronts, too. After years of the law firm grind, I managed to land a new, less stressful and more balanced job. And M and I moved out of the city and fled to the 'burbs, where runners ruled the road, and where a gym was conveniently located less than half a mile from our house. So I decided to start weight training, too. I began working out religiously. With the help of a trainer, I developed a full body workout routine. I signed up for the FitLinxx exercise tracking system at the gym, and started competing against myself and other gym rats for the most weight lifted, the most gym visits, the most reps. This was the perfect motivation tool -- I wanted FitLinxx's validation that I was lifting more than anyone else at the gym. It was structured and data-driven; I could see the results when the Fitlinxx results were posted on the wall every month. I loved it. I hit the gym twice a day, for a morning workout and an evening workout. I made sure I devoted at least an hour a day on weight training, and a half hour a day on cardio. I kept running. And over the holidays, M and I spent a few days (and a lot of cash) at Canyon Ranch in Tucson, where I learned even more about fitness and nutrition and incorporated my newfound knowledge into my workouts.
But as with most things, I eventully got bored with the repetitive nature of my weights-and-cardio routine. After our second kid was born and I got busier at work, I cut back on my workouts, and for the past year and half, I've been visiting the gym twice a week (at most) rather than twice a day. At night, after the kids are in bed, I make feeble attempts to work out in our home gym, but even when I manage to escape the gravitational pull of the couch and television remote, I end up exercising on cruise control, barely breaking a sweat on the elliptical machine or calling it a day after just a few sets of half-assed bench presses and back rows. I've been backsliding.
I need the motivation to push through this period of laziness and stagnation, and get fit. Hopefully, with P90X, I'll find the structure and motivation I need.
I'm going to use this blog to keep myself accountable to the program. And I'm going to do my damndest to post every single day. I've seen other P90X blogs that trail off after a while; they're like ghost ships sailing around the Internet, waiting for their captains to reappear. I'm determined not to abandon ship. I doubt anyone will ever read this, but I know I'll be more likely to keep P90Xing if the alternative is potential public humiliation.
Besides, it's only 90 days, right?
Monday, August 3, 2009
Why Am I Doing This?
After plunking down a chunk of change on P90X, I'm wondering why I'm bothering with this. Is the hassle worth it?
I mean, I'm not in terrific shape, but I'm not in terrible shape, either. I stopped running a couple of years ago (I overpronate, which led to knee and ankle issues), and I'm no longer an obsessive-compulsive gym rat. Still, I make sure to set aside about a half hour per day for exercise, and it's rare that I let two consecutive days go by without lifting some weights or hopping on the elliptical. I don't need to shed a ton of weight. I'm reasonably healthy.
And while I pig out at restaurants more often than I should, I'm generally pretty good about watching what I put in my mouth. I avoid fast food "restaurants" (with a rare exception made for In-N-Out and Taco Bell). I chug diet soda -- something I used to think tasted like faintly-sweetened spit -- rather than the real thing (though I know even diet soda's not exactly healthy). At work, I'm a sedentary office drone, but at lunch, I skip the more fatty/salty/sweet offerings at my company cafe; my typical lunch is a Cobb salad (minus the bacon) with dressing on the side. Our household is all about organic food -- we're members of a C.S.A., and get vegetables delivered to us weekly from small, local farms -- and my wife (who has a degree in nutrition science) polices our kitchen for rogue trans fats and HFCS. I try to limit my carb intake, and simple carbs especially.
For my height (or, at 5 feet 7 inches, lack of height), my weight is a respectable 145 pounds, though once in a while -- especially after a week of restaurant meals -- I'll manage to tip the scales at 150. I have a perfectly normal BMI of 22.7. A few years ago (when I was working out twice a day like a maniac), my body fat percentage was down to 7 percent, but I've now worked my way back up to 11 percent.
All in all, I'm healthy and fairly fit. I can do a bunch of pullups and chinups and pushups and all the other stuff at which I failed miserably in elementary school P.E. My blood pressure is fine, and my good cholesterol is totally kicking my bad cholesterol's ass.
So why put myself through the hassle and cost of completing P90X?
I think it all boils down to me wanting to shake up my exercise routine, and to satisfy my curiosity about how far I can push myself. I recognize that I'm not in the best shape of my life right now. I could stand to tighten up, and I know I'm losing strength and muscle tone while I vegetate on the couch, munching on chips. These days, I tire easily, and not just because I have two small children. I snack mindlessly, and at all hours. I'm losing the motivation to exercise. I don't get enough sleep. I grind my teeth. And I just feel like I'm in a perpetual state of torpor.
So I'm going to give P90X a try. According to the handbook accompanying the DVDs, "P90X is an extreme fitness program designed for individuals in top physical condition and health and, therefore, should NOT be attempted by someone who does not meet the minimum fitness requirements outlined in this guidebook." I'm going to take the fitness test in the next day or two and see how I do.
I mean, I'm not in terrific shape, but I'm not in terrible shape, either. I stopped running a couple of years ago (I overpronate, which led to knee and ankle issues), and I'm no longer an obsessive-compulsive gym rat. Still, I make sure to set aside about a half hour per day for exercise, and it's rare that I let two consecutive days go by without lifting some weights or hopping on the elliptical. I don't need to shed a ton of weight. I'm reasonably healthy.
And while I pig out at restaurants more often than I should, I'm generally pretty good about watching what I put in my mouth. I avoid fast food "restaurants" (with a rare exception made for In-N-Out and Taco Bell). I chug diet soda -- something I used to think tasted like faintly-sweetened spit -- rather than the real thing (though I know even diet soda's not exactly healthy). At work, I'm a sedentary office drone, but at lunch, I skip the more fatty/salty/sweet offerings at my company cafe; my typical lunch is a Cobb salad (minus the bacon) with dressing on the side. Our household is all about organic food -- we're members of a C.S.A., and get vegetables delivered to us weekly from small, local farms -- and my wife (who has a degree in nutrition science) polices our kitchen for rogue trans fats and HFCS. I try to limit my carb intake, and simple carbs especially.
For my height (or, at 5 feet 7 inches, lack of height), my weight is a respectable 145 pounds, though once in a while -- especially after a week of restaurant meals -- I'll manage to tip the scales at 150. I have a perfectly normal BMI of 22.7. A few years ago (when I was working out twice a day like a maniac), my body fat percentage was down to 7 percent, but I've now worked my way back up to 11 percent.
All in all, I'm healthy and fairly fit. I can do a bunch of pullups and chinups and pushups and all the other stuff at which I failed miserably in elementary school P.E. My blood pressure is fine, and my good cholesterol is totally kicking my bad cholesterol's ass.
So why put myself through the hassle and cost of completing P90X?
I think it all boils down to me wanting to shake up my exercise routine, and to satisfy my curiosity about how far I can push myself. I recognize that I'm not in the best shape of my life right now. I could stand to tighten up, and I know I'm losing strength and muscle tone while I vegetate on the couch, munching on chips. These days, I tire easily, and not just because I have two small children. I snack mindlessly, and at all hours. I'm losing the motivation to exercise. I don't get enough sleep. I grind my teeth. And I just feel like I'm in a perpetual state of torpor.
So I'm going to give P90X a try. According to the handbook accompanying the DVDs, "P90X is an extreme fitness program designed for individuals in top physical condition and health and, therefore, should NOT be attempted by someone who does not meet the minimum fitness requirements outlined in this guidebook." I'm going to take the fitness test in the next day or two and see how I do.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
In The Beginning
Surfing on Amazon.com last night, I was on a mission to buy a set of workout DVDs. After religiously hitting the gym for a few years, my regular workout regimen has gotten tedious and stale of late, and I'm well aware that my commitment (and activity) level is way down. My gym bag is starting to gather dust by my front door. I'd like to think that I'm still committed to exercising, but need to inject some variety into my workouts. It'd also be helpful to find a program that keeps me on a fairly rigid schedule. For me, too much flexibility is a bad thing.
My wife, M, was in an exercise rut for a while, too, but recently got kickstarted by a bunch of Jillian Michaels DVDs that she bought online. We'd already converted most of our garage space into a simple home gym a few years back (with an elliptical trainer, a rowing machine, a set of adjustable dumbbells, a weight bench, a TRX Suspension Trainer, etc.), and for the past month or so, she's been exercising almost daily, either before the kids get up in the morning or after they go down at night. M's commitment is paying off: She's gaining muscle and definition, and she's (deservingly) proud of her progress.
What the hell, I thought. I'm not getting my ass to the gym as frequently anymore, so I might as well give home workout DVDs a try, too.
So without much thought or research (other than scanning through the almost uniformly glowing reviews on Amazon.com), I ordered the P90X Extreme Home Fitness system, which was created by a company called BeachBody.
But after checking out some more online reviews, my gut tells me this is worth trying. After 90 days on P90X, it seems that some (though not all) users actually do "get ripped," while few feel ripped off. Despite the potentially hyperbolic testimonials and my overall suspicion of anything that is sold via television, I figured the most I'd lose is $150 or so. Besides, P90X evidently has a cult following -- people are drinking the Kool-Aid, and many are writing about their experiences and results on blogs like this one. They can't all be wrong.
I've not tasted the Kool-Aid yet, but thought I'd start this journal to: (1) independently review the program for others who may be shopping around, (2) record my own fitness journey as I try to get in better shape, and (3) keep myself motivated to finish all 90 days of the program. Plus, if I come across anything in the world of P90X, fitness and/or nutrition that strikes me as blogworthy, I'll post about it just to keep myself amused.
My wife, M, was in an exercise rut for a while, too, but recently got kickstarted by a bunch of Jillian Michaels DVDs that she bought online. We'd already converted most of our garage space into a simple home gym a few years back (with an elliptical trainer, a rowing machine, a set of adjustable dumbbells, a weight bench, a TRX Suspension Trainer, etc.), and for the past month or so, she's been exercising almost daily, either before the kids get up in the morning or after they go down at night. M's commitment is paying off: She's gaining muscle and definition, and she's (deservingly) proud of her progress.
What the hell, I thought. I'm not getting my ass to the gym as frequently anymore, so I might as well give home workout DVDs a try, too.
So without much thought or research (other than scanning through the almost uniformly glowing reviews on Amazon.com), I ordered the P90X Extreme Home Fitness system, which was created by a company called BeachBody.
According to the BeachBody website:
P90X is a revolutionary system of 12 sweat-inducing, muscle-pumping workouts, designed to transform your body from regular to ripped in just 90 days. You'll also receive a comprehensive 3-phase nutrition plan, specially designed supplement options, a detailed fitness guide, a calendar to track your progress, online peer support, and much more.
Your personal trainer, Tony Horton, will keep you engaged every step of the way, and you won't believe your results! A $600.00 value* for only 3 monthly payments of $39.95 (+$19.95 s&h)! Why is P90X so effective? The secret behind the P90X system is an advanced training technique called "Muscle Confusion," which accelerates the results process by constantly introducing new moves and routines so your body never plateaus, and you never get bored! Whether you want to get lean, bulk up, or just plain get ripped, there's an endless variety of ways to mix and match the routines to keep you motivated the full 90 days and beyond!
It was only after ordering P90X that I realized that I'd seen it hawked on late night infomercials before, and my immediate reaction was: Shit -- I just got scammed. The infomercial is just way too slick to be believed, and the before-and-after photos of people who tried P90X are so extreme that they must have been doctored. Plus, as a general matter, I'm skeptical of direct marketing ploys. Products with labels saying "AS SEEN ON TV" aren't my cup of tea.
But after checking out some more online reviews, my gut tells me this is worth trying. After 90 days on P90X, it seems that some (though not all) users actually do "get ripped," while few feel ripped off. Despite the potentially hyperbolic testimonials and my overall suspicion of anything that is sold via television, I figured the most I'd lose is $150 or so. Besides, P90X evidently has a cult following -- people are drinking the Kool-Aid, and many are writing about their experiences and results on blogs like this one. They can't all be wrong.
I've not tasted the Kool-Aid yet, but thought I'd start this journal to: (1) independently review the program for others who may be shopping around, (2) record my own fitness journey as I try to get in better shape, and (3) keep myself motivated to finish all 90 days of the program. Plus, if I come across anything in the world of P90X, fitness and/or nutrition that strikes me as blogworthy, I'll post about it just to keep myself amused.
Lastly, if you're wondering if I'm a paid shill, flack or plant, I'm not. I'm also not a "BeachBody Coach" (i.e., an independent contractor who pays BeachBody for the right to sell its products and to get a cut of the sale) or BeachBody employee. I have no affiliation with the company, and I'm not out to sell anything to anyone, so if P90X turns out to be a total piece of crap, rest assured that I'll say so.
*By the way, this "$600 value" business is bullshit. No one in their right mind is buying 13 home video workout DVDs for $600.
*By the way, this "$600 value" business is bullshit. No one in their right mind is buying 13 home video workout DVDs for $600.
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