I threw up.. a lot

(Not for the squeamish)

Day 1 workout is done and I threw up. Not half-assed dry heave gurgling, real honest to goodness B-horror flick spew. Oh, and not just once mind you, but five times... in a row.

It was awesome.

I knew P90X was going to push me hard and I expected to be hurting after day 1, but nothing could've prepared me for the reality check I just got.

While I'm not thrilled with my "on-paper" performance I did finish the hour-long chest and back routine. I forced myself to finish it in spite of the fact that about 2/3 of the way through I thought I was going to pass out. No joke. Pushing forty and carrying 210lbs on a 5'8" frame suddenly finding oneself unconscious is a legitimate concern.

I knew I still had the 15 minute AbRipperX routine to do as a follow-up but I felt bad enough that I decided I was probably going to call it a night. I made my way downstairs and in spite of my being a total prick charm my wife put together a recovery drink for me. I snatched it with a grunt and headed upstairs to find the shower. Fifteen minutes after finishing the workout I was still feeling a lot worse than I believe I should have. I was praying the shower and drink would at least upgrade my condition to "feeling lousy".

As I recall I next found myself lounging on my throne realizing I couldn't actually lift the drink to my face. I managed to come up with a half lunge, half toss methodology that allowed the bulk of the liquid to land in my mouth. It wasn't pretty, but it was effective enough. Four gulps later it came.

I've spent enough hard nights drinking to have long since mastered the 180 degree spin from sitting to kneeling and I prayed to porcelain gods with all that I had in me, literally.

P90X isn't just a workout, it also has a diet plan that goes along with it. When I put together my Chef's salad that I was to have for lunch today I said to myself "wow, that's a lot of leafy greens". Funny how deja vu may strike at any time. Five hours after I finished my lunch I was once again thinking, "wow, that's a lot of leafy greens".

Halfway through my meal-recycling episode I started smiling. The sick feeling inside of me was fleeting fast. A couple minutes (and more leafy greens) later I knew I was going to live. More importantly, I knew that in spite of my disappointment in my "on paper" performance I had pushed my body to the limit of what it was capable of, and then some. As long as I stick with it, the numbers will improve. Regardless of the numbers, or my final form, if I bring it this hard every time over the next 90 89 days I know that I'll have succeeded.

Oh, about 40 minutes later I did end up going back and struggled the best I could through the AbRipperX routine. I don't deserve any medals for form or performance, but I didn't give up.

As I sat there afterwards, staring into space, I smiled again. My mind dragged me back 20 years to Parris Island, the place I was the last time I remember feeling this beat up. It's a little harder this go around. Not quite so mean, not quite so lean and without the fear of a Drill Instructor's boot on the back of my neck I have to dig a little deeper for the motivation. While it may not have been elegant, I was proud of what I accomplished today. I saluted myself with a silent "Semper Fi, mother f--". add to del.icio.us saved by 0 users