I’m leery to even start this post, because I’m having trouble typing.  Usually when I have trouble typing, it’s because I’m crying and I can’t see well.  Or because a key is sticking on the keyboard, making it impossible to type a particular letter.  

Today, I’m having trouble in a more physical sense.  Zack and I started a workout program called P90X last night.  It is basically an ass-kicking work out program that lasts 90 days.  I guess we technically started day before yesterday, with a physical fitness assessment.  I was admittedly sore from the half-a-dozen tests they required from us, so that we can use those numbers as benchmarks for how much stronger/fitter/awesomer we are at the end of 30/60/90 days.  Zack is really excited about P90X in particular because the workout program is based on the same types of workouts that he has done before, so he’s seen them work.  He did months of online research, (and months of listening to me whine about my out-of-shapeness) before he finally committed us to this program.  

I am excited about it the way a person might be excited before getting a surgery.  I know that I’m staring down the throat of 90 days of miserable, miserable pain, but I’m so excited about the possible end result.  I’m not even just excited about the body-centric part of it, either.  It’s more than that–it’s the health.  My resting heart rate is tragically high for someone my weight and age.  Within 2 minutes of starting vigorous cardiovascular exercise, I am usually within 10 beats/minute of my maximum heart rate.  After doing 2:30 minutes of jumping jacks, my heart rate was over 190 beats/minute, and it felt it was going to implode.  I can now say that I KNOW my heart is working insane amounts of overtime in order to keep me alive, and I really, really want to be healthier.  It’s not just about the weight, it’s about the health.  

So we have a workout program.  We have a diet program.  I’ve quit cokes, I’m eating dark leafy greens, I’m drinking water.  Zack is constantly encouraging to me.  Even while we were doing our fitness test, I was “maxing out” on push-ups when I got stuck around #18.  I started grunting and yelling, trying to squeak out my 19th and 20th pushups, Zack said, “Keep Going!  You’re Doing Great!”  He didn’t say, “Don’t quit.”  He didn’t say, ala Jillian from The Biggest Loser, “SARAH, YOU ARE SO OUT OF SHAPE, YOU CAN’T EVEN FRIGGIN’ DO 20?!”  Instead, he chose to be encouraging.  And because of these things: the plan, the program, the food, the cokes, the encouragement, and above all, the teamwork, I am feeling, in a word, capable.  

We can handle this.  We can get in shape, we can torture ourselves for 90 days.  We can live healthy lives, and we can be conscious of the decisions we make and how they effect our bodies.  

We even took before pictures.  Perhaps I’ll post some change shot at the 30 day mark.