Failure. Demise. Shortfall. Shortcoming. Erosion. Weakness.
What’s become of E90X? What happened to the verve and commitment to fitness so ripe and ready back in the Planticipation Phase? It’s gone, isn’t it? With Phase 2 dragging on interminably for weeks and weeks and weeks, my interest has utterly waned in this whole process. I’ve been too ashamed to blog about all the working out I’ve not been doing until now when I realized, “Wait, this whole project was shameless to begin with – get back on the Blog!”
I thought I was maintaining some sort of intensity. For the past four weeks, by the time Thursday rolls around, I’m tired of rushing home from an 8-9-10-hour day at work to squeeze in a workout just in time to get to bed too late. Tired as in “zzzzzzzzzz,” but also as in “what kind of life is this?” With even the slightest hint of complicity from Sideshow Blob, I’ve willingly cast last-half-week workout plans aside for the life I used to live, the life I used to love, the life that made me a blob.
But, like I said, I’ve been earnestly TRYING to maintain some sort of intensity. We committed to each other, that for each week left incomplete, said week would be repeated IN ITS ENTIRETY. Precisely the reason that Phase 2 has officially stretched over N! weeks with no end in sight. (Guys, that’s my second “factorial joke” this week – don’t worry, I promise to seek help). The boredom, which has set in and rotted me and Sideshow Blob both with gangrenous resilience, is only but one small factor in what seems to have amounted to more than a mere setback but an out-and-out failure.
In addition to the boredom, there is the sweet seduction of our lives of yore. Impromptu happy hours with friends, co-workers, each other, and alone (Hey – don’t judge!) were truly the Elmer’s of our happy, well-balanced relationship. Who wants to watch the ballgame at 10:00 PM on TiVo with no beer, even if doing so brings you one nanometer closer to a relatively-taught bikini bod? And of course that says nothing of the snacks, both savory and sweet, upon the reward of which hinges any productivity I could ever claim. I need my treats, dammit. I mean, EVEN AS I TYPE THIS:
Another factor which has contributed to the erosion of my commitment to the P90X program, however slightly by comparison, is my desire to get back to running. Sideshow Blob pointed out that last summer when I was running every day, I was the thinnest he’d ever seen me. Now, what he may not fully appreciate is that said thinness was a product of the running, yes, but also of a regimen that combined no-time-to-eat with gut-wrenching-bar-exam-stress. Needless to say, these results are likely not reproduced THIS summer. But it is true, as I’ve mentioned here before, that running provides a challenge, a freedom, a balance, and a centeredness that P90X never will.
With National Running Day this week, and with the advent of a new 1/2 Marathon-in-Training Blog to read, I’m finding that I’ve been missing my running more and more. I’ve also been finding just how incompatible even the most moderate running schedule is with the P90X plan. Not just physically – because I can already hear eyes rolling over the fact that a tiny 30-minute run in addition to P90X each day would not a body kill. But what about the time to actually do these things? To add running means working out morning and night, waking early and staying-up late, showering twice a day, and signing away any micro-moment of spare time to a pursuit that, as yet, has yielded precious little in return.
As Jill Zarin says in the promo for Real Housewives of New York finale once every 7.5 minutes during my Bravo commercial breaks this week, “The question is: Where do we go from here?” Without saying the words, I think Sideshow Blob and I have reached an understanding that P90X for 90 minutes, every night, six nights a week, is not working. He suggested proceeding with just the weights-days, and taking off the P90X Cardio days in exchange for some longer runs. I think that’s reasonable, and I’ll say that this is what I’m planning on doing from now until the unveiling.
Though I really want to just say “screw it” on the whole darn thing, that’s not really “us” either. Not to mention, I caught a few photographs of myself on vacation recently and I swear to you – Michelle Obamas! That alone is enough to keep one baby toe in the P90X pool.
So here’s to it, people. Here’s to evolution: making it work, making it fun, and making it YOURS.