Unleash the Beast

This post is going to take a long time to write.

Not because I don't know what to say or how to say it fast, I think after 9 years of blogging diarrhea, that should be abundantly apparent.

No, it's going take long because every muscle in my body is crying out for a Vicoden. From the tiny muscles in my ears that allow me to wiggle my lobes, to the tips of unsightly toes which seem to have been set in cement like some poor mobster at the bottom of Brooklyn's Jamaica Bay.

And the walk from my office on one side of the house to the coffee machine on the other side of the house now seems inordinately long. I might have to Uber there to get a refill.

Why the stiffness, the soreness, the achiness that makes breathing seem like too much of a chore?

As I mentioned yesterday, with the new Google WiFi network installed, I now have internet access in my garage/gym. And just as Ralph Kramden was drawn to the silliest 'get rich' schemes, I find myself unable to resist the overpromising 'get fit' 90 day plans from Beachbody.com

That's right, I signed up for Body Beast.

How could I not?

The program promises to help me lose weight.
Hello fish, chicken and protein enhanced bread.

The program promises to help build massive muscle and make me Beast strong.
Hello white trash neighbors.

And the program is the brainchild of Israeli Sagi Kalev.
Hello mishpoocha.

Plus, they were running a discounted price on the TV infomercial.
I'm a sucker for a good infomercial.
And savings.

This is my fourth Beachbody program.

After a tough week of adjustment, I was locked into the original P90X. By the end of the program I was sailing through each workout. Even mastered many of the yoga moves. Which, for a man shaped like a beer keg, is not easy.

The Insanity program did not go as planned. All the jumping up and down inflamed my Plantar Fasciitis and sent me to foot doctor who discovered massive bone spurs in my heels. That, and living in Queens, NY, is the only thing I have in common worth Precedent Shitgibbon.

There was a worthless third program from some Australian couple. I forgot the name of it, but this program mixed light weights and jazzercise. Those two go together like mustard and chocolate ice cream.

But now, I'm "Beasting Up."

Mind you, I'm a long-in-the-tooth 44 year old and have no delusions about whipping my body into Speedo-worthy shape. Plus, my wife has already put me on notice. She refuses to shave me from head to toe or oil me down for any possible competitions.

While I am seriously committed to the exercise portion of the program, the nutritional aspect is going to pose some problems. You see, despite everything you might have ever heard about resistance training, dropsets, supersets, pyramid sets, proper rest and hydration, it turns out the true secret formula to any and all weight lifting and body building programs is egg whites.

And I hate egg whites.