Day 57: Chest and Back

Woke up this morning with what felt like a prickly, melted ball of cheddar cheese in my throat and a fever that would have put me in the 'brown-acid' tent at Woodstock. Fuck...I never get sick. I have an impenetrable immune system - my doctor told me I probably don't need to wear condoms it's so good. Deep in my genetic make-up there is probably the cure for Aids and poverty. What happened? Why the depressed immuno-response? It couldn't have been the fact I slept a grand total of 8 seconds this weekend, which happened to be on the 403 on my way to Niagara Falls. Or the fact, the only thing I ate since saturday was beef. Amazing, braized, gravy-saturated beef my Uncle made for my Grandpa's 85th (which is why I was driving to N.F.). If human flesh happened to taste like this I would support the death penalty and the proper utilization of this meat (with all the proceeds from it's sale, naturally, going to the victim's of these twisted, awful people. I should consider a job in politics with trail-blazing, visionary ideas like this). He sent me home with at least 2 lbs. of the stuff and I love him dearly for it. It made no sense to eat anything else but beef. I am no Doctor, but only having beef-based nutrients in my system for 3 days, seems fine to me. 

Either way, I felt like I either wanted to jump in front of a bus or had been hit by a truck. I gathered my strength, ambled to the fridge, and made myself a beef sandwich. It was delicious, but it did not make me feel any better. I slept for three hours, woke up, dragged my feet to the fridge, and was saddened to realize I was running out of beef. I made my last beef sandwich and laid back down. I fell asleep - at 5:01 I was dreaming I was under a gravy waterfall as lil' tasty beef children ran around. At 5:02, Millard shook me awake and told me "it was time". I was groggy, out of it, sick, and just wanted to sleep. I received these words like a suicide bomber prepping for his big date with 72 virgins. "It was time"...I had to man up and do my duty.

This week begins a new muscle growth week where we are starting with 'Chest and Back' - an exercise we did the first three weeks of the program. Actually, it is the first P90X experience we ever had. Here's what I wrote 56 days ago,

"The rest of the work-out felt like various enhanced interrogation techniques. P90X does not fuck around. If someone is ever forced to do P90X, I don't care what sort of complex legal justifications you want to make, it is fuckin' torture. It throws all sorts of different push-ups at you: diamond, wide-set, standard, decline, dive-bomber, gut-wrencher, soul-crusher, colon-cleanser etc. It did not go well; I am just proud that neither of us black-outed for that long. We probably did a good solid P32X. The rest of the 58 generally consisted of us rolling on the ground yelling "extreme". "

Today's workout was a slight improvement. And, by 'slight improvement', I mean a difference from what Patrick Swayze looks like right now (RIP) to what he looked like inRoadhouse; from Eddie Murphy in the 80's to Eddie Murphy in Norbert; from going down a skirt to find a weiner in your hand to going back in time to when you spotted that hot girl across the bar giving you eyes - point is, the difference is huge. We did every single exercise for every single rep. And our arch nemesis the diamond push-up that easily beat our asses 56 days ago, was left lying on the ground in a bloody, pulpy mess. Even though I felt like I was in the early stages of ebola-aids, it was an amazing experience to see the improvement that can occur in 56 days.

Highlights: It was all a long highlight reel of extreme push-up fortitude. But, about 3/4s into the routine, the diamond-push up reared its ugly head. We were hesitant and nervous, having no idea what we could do. I settled into the position, moving downwards until I reached the bottom, the moment of truth: could I push back up? Here's the dialogue that ensued right after this moment, "OH my god, I'm doing it Millard, bam, bam, bam, bam", "Dude, I know, yeah, extreme!!", "Extreme!!! dude", "We did it man", "I fuckin' love you dude", "sniffle sniffle", "Millard are you crying? Don't be a pussy", "I can't help it man, I have seen the top of the mountain and it is glorious", "I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about - we are in my basement".

State of Mind: I have 3 lbs. of phlegm in my face and 3-4 lbs. of beef in my bowels, but I feel great and satisfied after today's workout.

Rating: P90X.