Day 51: 5k Run and Shoulders and Arms.

This week is a recovery week - as such, P90X wanted us to do yoga. Fuck that. You can't yell and scream and tear the shit out of muscle fibre and send rushing waves of dopamine, endorphins, and testosterone crashing into your consciousness with Yoga. It's 80 minutes and all it produces is gas and constant giggling at how gay it is that we're actually doing Yoga. So, we subbed in shoulders and arms and I decided to add a 5k run earlier in the day considering how badly I am going to treat my body tomorrow on St. Patty's Day. But, really, a 5k run to compensate for 14 hours of drinking is like adding a diet coke to your Blue Cheese Baconator combo. Let's see..can I get 3lbs. of grade d meat, embalmed cheese, and sodium-riddled bacon sandwiched in between two flimsy buns and a side of greasy fries and, ahh, you know what, I better watch my weight, can I get a diet coke with that? (They don't even try to trick your brain into thinking you might be eating one thing that's not god awful for you like lettuce or tomato. It's just meat, cheese, bun.)  

I geared up for my run - jumping up and down, bobbing my head, letting Florence and the Machine light up my ear cavity; I was like all of Team Canada in the dressing room before overtime. I was ready; a sprinkling of nerves amidst a general calm feeling that comes from knowing exactly what you have to do. I ran a time of 23:57 before -- so, I had to beat that. I took the first step onto the blacktop and it felt good, confident and powerful. I made it to the halfway point - the LCBO - in 11 1/2 minutes. If I kept up the pace, I could beat my time, but the way back is a much more difficult beast to tame. Fatigue, normally the most obvious and biggest obstacle, took a backseat to dumb people that do not know how to walk on a sidewalk. "I saw you see me, I'm the maniac panting and spitting and constantly murmuring, 'fuckin' doo it', yet you stay in the middle of the sidewalk with your shopping bags bowed out. Fine, I'll go around you...what are you doing?! You saw me coming from 50 metres away and you wait until 2 metres to make your move to the side. Ahhh, ok I'm going the other way then, don't go-damnit I told you not to go...BAM! Yeah, I just body-checked you...P90X bitch!"

Body-checking people while you run 5k significantly slows you down. That being said, I kept chugging, my heart and my will growing with every breath, chug!, chug!, 'c'mon', 'dooo it', 'don't give in', 'you are the best', 'fuck yeahhh', 'bring the pain', 'hardcore from the brain', 'lets go inside like astral plane'. 

Bam, Method Man and I crossed the finish line at...

23:06.

Fuck yeah. "I be hectic, and comin for the head piece, protect it."

I chilled for an hour and then Millard and I ripped shoulders and arms. When we first did this exercise, we hit failure at the half-way point and struggled through a lot of the exercises. I laugh, point at, and pity my old self - we hit every exercise for every rep and even started lifting 30's instead of 20's. Bam! 'I'm sick, insane, crazy, drivin' Miss Daisy'.

Highlights: The last kilometre of my run highlights the depth and power of the human will.

State of Mind: Seriously realizing I ain't nothin' to fuck wit. 

Rating: P90X