Bring the Pain

I’ve been working out for 2 weeks and all I’ve got to show for it is an incendiary, soul crushing pain throughout my entire body. It’s soreness on a level I have never comprehended. Wow. My wife rolls her eyes when I moan and groan about it, but she also went through all natural childbirth.  This makes her the equivalent of the kid that always messes up the grading curve in college.  It also might mean, SHE IS NOT HUMAN!

If you read this foolishness last week, you’d know that we were anxiously awaiting the pull up bar and resistance bands. They arrived last Friday. Fuck Them.

First of all, the pull up bar requires you to assemble it. AWESOME. This means that the fact I am the least handy person on the planet will finally bite me on my jiggly ass as the infernal contraption disintegrates midway through a shitty pull-up and I plummet to a ghastly demise.  Surprisingly, this has not happened…but it will! 

The bands are exactly what I thought they would be: stretch bands of varying thickness forged from the fibers of Judas Chair tethers. This means two things: they are EVIL and make you want to hang yourself, and they make you feel like a pussy because everyone on the DVD is using weights, BIG HEAVY MAN WEIGHTS! Oh, there’s a guy who uses the bands, but they make him workout in the back corner where you can barely see him. 

“You can use the bands, if you’re a cake eating pickle kisser.  However, I’m going to lift two Mini Coopers for this exercise.  As for you band-boy, INTO THE CARE BEAR CORNER FOR YOU!!!”     

As the new instruments of malice are now here, it means we have started on the full workout regimen as laid out by Cornhole Jenkins (aka Tony Horton) and his minions.  Actually, this is much better then aimlessly choosing the workout that looks like it sucks the least.  It means that there is a predetermined order of things.  Regimented suffering is far better than directionless suffering.  At least you feel like you are accomplishing something.  In addition, it makes you sound manly when talking to people.

“Yeah, I worked the arms and back today, (strategically leaving out that Yoga is on Thursday) I’ll be hammering the legs and back on Friday…”

The diet continues on as well. Like I said last week, we’ve pretty much developed an effective diet that works for us. Sort of a Weight Watcher, South Beach hybrid.  As expected, the side effects of this high fiber, high protein diet have hit the house like the Jericho Missile from Iron Man.  I will periodically walk into a room in the house, and my wife will declare AFTER I’VE ENTERED that the area is unfit to support human life.  No time to alter my route, no time to mentally prepare, not even enough time for the useless “T-Shirt-Over-Mouth-&-Nose” maneuver…before I know it - it’s in my mouth.

Being a portly 12 year old stuck in a portly 28 year-old body, I retaliate accordingly.

“Hey – is someone making popcorn?”

-Wife Takes Deep Whiff – “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?”

But I digress…sort of.  Recall from the beginning of today’s blog that at this time my body is retaliating against my ill-advised determination with soreness, and occasional failure to follow through on my commands. 

            “You know? I don’t think I will let you grab the milk from the bottom shelf of the fridge right now.  Do another lunge, assface…”

My body’s hatred for me manifests itself in all facets of life, but none more drastically than in the loo….  

Never before have I been more acutely aware of the placement of a toilet paper roller in relation to the orientation of the commode.  Ours is WAY to far back.  It requires me turn more than the seventy-five degrees that I am currently capable from a sitting position.  Furthermore, the holder is too small for a full roll of T.P. and it does not dispense freely.  A simple tug only yields HALF OF A FUCKING SQUARE. 

This means that not only do I have to turn much too far in my current state. I also have to hold that position while I manipulate the roll into yielding enough paper to avoid making a mess.  My core screams, my shoulders cry, my arms literally shake, and my legs are asleep, it is pure agony.

-Ok, Ok. My legs being asleep has nothing to do with the workout – more so the fact that I have been sitting there Fecebooking (the act of Facebooking while dropping a deuce) for 40 minutes.  Don’t judge me.

5 THINGS I LEARNED THIS WEEK:

1)      My ego has barely had time to cope with the fact I cannot do a single good pushup, and now it has become obvious that a good pull-up or chin-up is completely out of the question.  They show you how to use a chair or stool as a spotter, but that only ends up putting my leg(s) through a workout they didn’t ask for.  I tried to hang there for a second and I am sure the house shifted under the weight.  I cannot yet confirm but I swear I saw some picture frames go crooked and heard the house groan. I stood across the street and tried to determine if the house was leaning, but I couldn’t tell. Even with the chair, I am petrified that my hands are going to rip clear of my arms at the wrist at any moment. 

2)      Thinking further about #1 – I would not be able to survive with 2 stumps at the end of my arms.  I tried for 10 minutes today to see what it would be like by pulling my hands into my sweatshirt sleeves.  It was not pretty.  Especially when I tried to unroll the T.P.  Fuck that….       

3)      Every single workout is the MOTHER of all p90x workouts.  Every single one. Cornhole Jenkins declares this at the beginning of each DVD.  I find this infuriating.  Just when I’ve developed a dysfunctional mother-son relationship with the plyometrics DVD, you go and spring this on me?  Eat Ben Roethlisberger’s gray penis, Horton!

4)      There are some awkward stances involved in using the resistance bands for weight training.  It is critical that you make sure the band is secured under your foot, or it might break free mid-lift.  Ever do that thing where you are playing with the rubber band from the newspaper, and it snaps on your hand?  It’s like that, only bigger. And it hits you right in the peepee. 

5)      Despite all of my whimpering things are progressing nicely, and I am having fun venting into the blogosphere.  Stay tuned this weekend for a bonus blog post involving my attempt at the Kenpo X workout. Or as I like to call it: “Kung Fu Ass Panda!”

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