Day 33 & 35: Shoulders and Arms and Extreme Olympic Celebration

I woke up marooned on an island known as my bed this morning, pleading to the gods to send pizza and juice. Although, I was hungover, my body felt alert and weirdly responsive like I had just run a marathon. This is probably because I ran a marathon through the streets of Toronto last night while clutching a Canadian Flag in one hand and a 2-litre bottle of toxic-rum-pollutant in the other. When I arrived at the finish (Yonge and Dundas) I did not collapse like some pussy-ass Kenyan with a make-a-wish kid body; I proceeded to double my lifetime high-five count and bear-hug thousands of large drunk men. This is intense cardio, plyometrics, and weight-training all rolled into one exercise.

Shoulders and Arms is in the top-five of difficult P90X workouts, but Extreme Olympic Celebration heads up that list. Why? Adrenaline and Alcohol-fueled madness allows you to work well past your usual breaking point. You become a fire-breathing loon filled with love, the need to show it, and an endless amount of maniacal energy. Lifting 200-250 pound sacks of beer, meat, and bones for 3 hours straight after sprinting well over 5 km is definitely not something someone can do without a symphony of Crosby lit neuro-fireworks exploding in their head. There should have been a camera in my cranium for the closing ceremonies, it would have blown people's minds (it did mine). Most intense workout of my entire life - if the leafs ever win the cup, I will probably die of a hybrid brain-aneurysm, dopamine-induced seizure and general exhaustion.

Highlights: I'm bent over exhausted, exhaling chunks of rum-covered phlegm when Kabir steps out onto the street yelling "let's get fuckin' drunk" as a speeding SUV approaches 5 metres away. I gather up all the strength I have and lunge and jerk back this 200 pound flag-draped alcohol-fueled retard, saving his life and the future lives of his children and grandchildren (who could very well discover cold fusion, thereby, eliminating the majority of the pollution that threatens to kill off the human species). For this act, I receive a mumbled, "thanks dude".

After our marathon sprint through the streets of Toronto, 3 hours of extreme high-fiving and large drunk men bear-hugging, Millard and I gathered up the strength and resolve to get unnecessarily angry and proceed to throw Apollo Creed-killing hay-makers at each other in front of a group of 40 cops.

Hey, you two!, cease and desist. It's ok offizzzerrers, he's my friend. I don't care, that doesn't mean you can assault him.

State of Mind: Elated, frenzied, mind-gasming Crosby-lust.

Rating: P87XXX