And Yoga X day is mine.
I can’t believe I did an a.m. yoga session yesterday before consulting the P90X schedule. I might have noticed that the daily workout was, oh, 90 minutes of Yoga X. Not just “yoga,” but “Yoga X.” Since when do push-ups release your chi?
Though I should say the stretching was really a bonus. I think I’m walking a little less pathetically today, although it’s early yet, and I haven’t faced my co-workers who may have more to say on the matter.
I’m already getting curious about my weight, wondering if it’s changed at all. I’m aware the mere consideration of this possibility is asinine, not just because this is only Day 5, but also because dinner last night consisted of ten wings and 42oz of Bud Lite.
Thankfully, I decided early on that I would only get down to “Brass Tacks” on the milestone days: 1, 30, 60, and 90. So I’ve got a way to go before I need to check those stats. I’m trying to curb the possibility of become obsessive about it. I’ve been through the cycle of checking the scale every 15 minutes, becoming so elated at scale-reflected but visibly imperceptible loss that I “celebrate” with a fatty snack, checking the scale again, and becoming so depressed at the scale-reflected but visibly imperceptible gain that I “cheer up” with another fatty snack. It’s sick.
Full disclosure: I’m not committed to the P90X diet. In fact, I’m not committed to any diet. I’m over diets right now.
Fuller disclosure: I realize you all are not stupid, and I didn’t need to fully disclose about the diet.
I’m hoping that controlling what I eat most of the time and splurging occasionally (last night) is a lifestyle that will be supported by the increased workouts. I’m not a scientist, or an athlete, or a fitness guru, and I’m sure there are thousands of articles indicating that there is no hope for Michelle-Obama-Arms with P90X and a Moderate-to-moderately-bad diet. But for now, on Day 5, I’m willing to keep a candle burning for the idea that looking good need not happen a the cost of all things delicious (wings), and, let’s face it, necessary (beer).
Hope springs eternal.