Why? Maybe, expectations falling short. When I started I was not in good shape. And, in a short period of time, with resolve and spirited conviction, I started getting bigger and stronger. Expecations were soaring on the heals of numerous decisive and pronounced victories. Now, I expect more when I workout, but I am not achieving it and my heart is clearly not in it. P90X is putting up too much resistance and I feel like I am getting worse, it is taking back some of my earlier gains. I went from a confident, well-oiled war-machine to an insecure, frustrated, white-flag-waving wreck. I feel like Hitler in the Spring of 1945. It all started out so well. Initially, I was in a state of disrepair and alienation where I just didn't have the follow-through or organization to make things better. Something had to give. I had to put aside my inefficient and lazy ways; I had to storm the Reichstag of my mind and take over the controls instilling discipline and organization. A new era of 'Bomber' had dawned and within the first week I had seized the Sudetenland. A minor victory for some, but a symbolic one for me - I was moving in the right direction, I was pursuing my genetic destiny (I always knew if I worked out, I could see some serious results).
Over the next 30 some-odd days, I grew and grew - my confidence and size was at an all-time high. I am half-french and half-italian - so on one side, I like to smoke, laze around, and drink all day and on the other, I like to eat delectable, cheesy foods, high in carbohydrates all day while being racist and beating my wife. These are some serious obstacles - I immediately rolled over the French side. I allied with the Italian initially: carbohydrates are a necessary part of a succesful workout regime and wife-beatings are like bonus reps. But, alas, I realized the constant cheese-eating and need to eat at all hours of the day, even after large meals, was not an ally of mine at all. The Italian-side eventually turned on me, but, for the better, I did not need it. It would only make me stronger - indeed, this was my real genetic destiny: total body-rippitude.
I had victory after victory. I owned the home-workout theatre. My friends - we'll call them the allies - had seen enough. Their own identities could not take me - lil ol' decrepid Bomber - getting this big. In the end, the weight of my own expecations and hubris, caused me to buckle today. I just expected too much and stretched myself out too thin. I simply cannot do a set of slo-mo push-ups on one front and then expect to be able to do one-arm pushups on the other. A two-front P90X assault is not something I can handle.
Today was a devastating day - D-Day for short - where I realized I need to tone down my delirious expecations and allow my confidence to build from realizable goals.
Nevertheless, I trucked through Shoulders and Arms and immediately did Ab Ripper X - that is commendable and something I should take pride in. Granted, maybe I am not getting all the reps in and wussing out on a few here and there, but, at least, I'm still on my cold, fake-hard-wood floor grinding it out.
Highlights: Jumping to Ab-Ripper X, after getting completely assaulted by Shoulders and Arms (Soviets in Arms?). Thus proving, for once and for all, I am better than Hitler - a two-front war is sustainable.
State of Mind: Covered above. I just need to get to a more relaxed, less frustrated state. Maybe, I'll take my frustrations out on a weak, defenseless home workout routine. Hey, it worked for Chris Brown...he's doing great now.
Rating: (S & A) P70X + (ABRprX) P85X = P77.5X
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