Yak Attack, Part II, The Prelude

“You don't have to be a hero to accomplish great things---to compete. You can just be an ordinary chap, sufficiently motivated to reach challenging goals.” ― Ed Hillary



It’s the middle of the night and I’m lying in bed, kept awake from a cough that’s persisted since coming down from Everest base camp a few days ago. To make matters worse, I think I’m starting to feel the onset of dysentery that’s had Romney bedridden for the last 24 hours. We ate the same thing, after all, so why wouldn’t I be? Good timing for her, since she’s accomplished her objectives and will be heading home in the morning. For me, however, I’m a little over a day from beginning one of the harder bike races on the planet. Hopefully, all of my discomfort can be chalked up to nerves.

When I look at my prep for the Yak Attack race, in comparison to what I’ve done in the past, I can’t help but get nervous. I’ve trained a fraction of what I used to when I raced bikes all the time. Yet here I am, about to mix it up with a bunch of serious racers on training schedule that’s featured about an hour a day on average. My head tells me I can pull it off, but until my body follows suit, I won’t really know.

I probably shouldn’t worry about fitness, since the Yak Attack can force you out for any number of reasons. Besides the obvious mountain biking obstacles, like crashing and equipment failures, you’ve got third world cuisine, strange diseases, dodgy water, Spartan accommodations, and many days, and more importantly nights, at very high altitude any one of which can force you to be carries off the mountain by a yak, such as what happened to professional racer Jeff Kerklove last year.

Not that I’ll see much of it from my perspective of eating everyone’s dust, but the race itself should be outstanding. There’s even a chance someone could beat the locals (Yuki, from Japan, comes to mind though I wouldn’t bet on it). The field is loaded, with 11 countries (at least) represented, that includes a professional adventurer followed by a film crew as he tries to tick off all the hardest challenges in the world, a stack of professional riders, a slew of eccentric, adventurous types, the crème de la crème of Nepalese cycling, and another bloke named Steve Edwards. We did a group ride the other day and everyone is flying. I know the the Yak Attack is more about adventure than racing but with all the talent here there’s no way it won’t be heated.



My only objective at the moment is to survive day one. I’m not feeling very good and I don’t think I’m the only one. Once the race settles into a rhythm it should be easier. We all suffer well or we wouldn’t be here. I think it’s the waiting around that making everyone crazy.

Anyway, it’s good to be back in Nepal with a goal instead of just touring. It’s not mountaineering but, in a way, more adventurous as the Yak Attack is a new kind of adventure with an unknown quality. The last time I was in Nepal one of my heroes, Sir Edmund Hillary, died. If you read this post from then you’ll see it was an oddly serendipitous thing. Now I’m back with what I hope will be an Ed-worthy adventure in store. My goal, like Ed, is simply to “knock the bastard off”. That said, if I can break 30 hours it’ll mean all of the prayer wheels I’ve been turning haven't been for naught.



This is so strange. This is a man who was profoundly influential on my life. The first thing that inspired me to climb was the book High in the Thin Cold Air, by Ed Hillary. On the cover was Amadablam, the mountain that inspired me to climb mountains. In fact, I was writing a blog on this topic, still unfinished, just this morning. I read everything that Hillary had written prior to ever lacing up a pair of boots. Hillary always reminded me of my dad. And here I am, in Nepal, Hillary's true home (he was the New Zealand ambassador and did a ton of work on the schools here) and most likely even drinking Everest beer, with Tenzing on the label, when he dies. Life can be poetic in the oddest sense.

This will likely be my last post for a while. We might find an internet connection over the next 4 days. Then we hit the mountains and will be limited to 10 kilos of stuff, which must include enough gear so we don’t die of exposure at 18,000’. When things get grim, I'll focus on one of my favorite quotes from Sir Ed.

"I don't remember much about those seven days (stuck in a snow storm on Cho Oyu) except that somewhere around day 4 or 5 George (Lowe, Kiwi not ours) came over, stuck his head inside my tent and said, 'You know, Ed, some people wouldn't think this was fun."

vids: the first is from our training ride this week, courtesy of nepali tea traders. the second is from 2011, which i'd heard about from andre, 60 years young and back for his second yak attack. it's a little tedious but starts picking up at minute 18:00. "i never want to see another mountain bike race in my life..."

The Sound Of Infinity

In reading these old traveling posts one thing is clear; I used to have more time to write. This stuff makes me feel a little guilty about my articles over the last few years but, hopefully, in their simplicity they’re more concise. Anyways, a lot of people told me this was their favorite article I’d written, at least about traveling. Upon review I’m not sure it’s all that, but it is a good yarn. I hope you enjoy it.

In my youth I read a lot about India, almost all of which centered on the spiritual. Stories of Imperialists were often rousing good fun but it was the sacred side of India that captivated me. The side the read the Upanishads, the place where Buddha become enlightened, where Maughm’s character from The Razor’s Edge finally exorcised “polite” society to discover the truth in life.

The India I finally arrived in was slightly different. A cacophony of sounds and smells perhaps unlike anywhere else on earth. If India is the spiritual center of the universe it must be because it’s so difficult to be spiritual here. Ones entire existence can easily be filled with nothing but distraction. Driving is more hazardous than a demolition derby. A simple walk can have you literally shaking beggars off your limbs. Your clothes become so dirty that you either wash them daily or just stop caring. For the average westerner, it’s a full scale assault on every one of your senses.

India stories: The Fitness Yogi

En route to Nepal a family visit to India was in order. Calcutta, or Kolkata as it’s called here, the erstwhile intellectual capital of India favored for its arts, literature, anti-Bollywood drab communistic history and the poverty and squalor targeted by Mother Theresa, this time around feels a bit more like home. While as mad and dirty as ever—though the air’s cleaned up quite a lot due to some stringer auto rules set forth by the new magistrate—I’ve had five years since last visit for it to sit in and, thus, we’ve rolled into things somewhat seamlessly.

Over the next month, especially during our time in Nepal; first trekking, followed by Yak Attack, I’ll often not be connected so I’ll be digging up some older stories on India, Nepal, and Beachbody from 5 years ago. Hopefully these will prove as entertaining to you as they do for me to read them again.

We’ll start with The Fitness Yogi. It’s a pretty fun look at life in Calcutta through the eyes of a western tourist. Click on the excerpt.

I get a lot of odd looks, waves, and occasional chides on my run. And, while most people look absolutely confused, the reactions are overwhelmingly positive. Because I’ve been running in an orange shirt, Brian has suspected that perhaps they see me as some type of fitness yogi. Orange, I’ve learned, is only worn by men who’ve become enlightened. This has added some fuel to the credence of Ashna’s idea that I would have an almost instantaneous cult following if I were to move here and champion exercise as a way to enlightenment.

A Day In Spain

Just arrived home from the holiday/camp/race with plenty to catch up on but in the spirit of tranquillo let’s ease into things slowly. Romney joined me for the final week of my adventure. We casually sauntered across Spain, hiking, climbing, and wine tasting our way to Bruca and Alisa’s place in St Antonin Noble Val, France. One morning we woke up in the paradise that is Rodellar, Spain, and made our way north through fantastic scenery that also features some of the greatest venues for playing outside in the world. Since I haven’t gotten around to loading our pics yet I found a few videos to provide narrative for what was a most excellent day of climbing, hiking, touring and tapas.

Rodellar is a small village at the end of the road situated on a plateau above a canyon filled with some of the best rock climbing I’ve ever done. This entertaining vid shows a few highlights.

Viva la Vida Part 2 from Micky on Vimeo.

Rodellar is located in la Sierra de Guara, a Spanish national park that’s littered with a hundred lifetime’s worth of perfect rock. In Europe, mountain biking isn’t buffed out like it tends to be here in the states. Instead you explore ancient trails and roads built by Romans, Troglodytes, and/or dinosaurs. Of course each village you come across has a pub, meaning you don't need to lug around a lot of stuff. Here’s a taste of what to expect.

Las bellostas, Rodellar, Otin, Las Bellostas from alfons esterlich on Vimeo.

We then headed east towards the crags of Lleida, adopted home of Chris Sharma and the settling of Rock & Ice magazine’s No Spain No Gain issue. For some reason almost all the rock in this region faces south, making it a winter area and keeping our modest forays to the shaded flanks.

Sport Climbing in Catalunya, Spain (Tres Ponts, Terradets, Margalef) from Rock & Ice on Vimeo.

The northern part of the region snakes through Collegats canyon. It’s an traditional area steeped in Spanish lore, and slightly off the modern climber’s radar, but the setting inspired me more than any other in Catalunya. Along with many long traditional routes there’s a stack of sport climbing that’s all muy bonita! Here’s a bike tour through the canyon.



The river you can see looks like a kayaker’s dream and, sure enough, only 15k away the village of Sort is the most boating-crazed place I’ve ever been. It’s a ten minute drive to a region with more climbing the 95% of the world’s countries and I couldn’t find a mention of that fact anywhere. Just kayak (and some ski) stuff everywhere you look. There’s even a kayak art museum. Here are a couple of videos about Sort, home for our last evening in Spain.

Sort 2010, wildwater world championships - day 6: sprint team winners, June 12th 2010, Sort (Spain) from WildWater TV Italia www.wwtv.it on Vimeo.

Sort, Spain, Noguera Pallaresa river, promo-video W.W. Worlds 2010 from WildWater TV Italia www.wwtv.it on Vimeo.

Hasta luego Espana. You will be missed.

Why Overtraining Isn’t Always Over Training

If I ever lose my mind and decide to run for a public office would someone please remind me of this post. I’m a terribly inefficient socializer. Whenever I spend an inordinate amount of time in social settings I break down, even if my exercise patterns are minimized for the situation. Of course I could just adjust to this, becoming a glad-handing, canned answer man who can waltz through a day of baby kissing without it causing so much as a blip to my adrenal system. I just don’t see the upside to making that switch. I like being engaged in conversations. And I like my alone time. A lot. So remind me. Please. No politics.

The perils of schmoozing isn’t the point of this post. It’s to remind you that overtraining doesn’t necessarily mean that you are working out too hard. You could just be living too hard. Training effectiveness isn’t all about bringing it. It’s about balancing your training with your recovery, which takes into account diet, daily activity, and sleep. Lose any one part of this equation and risk becoming overtrained, even if all the exercise you’re doing is based on recovery.

This topic came up again and again in many various forms on last week’s Chairman’s Adventure in the south of France with Team Beachbody's top coaches. It was presented in the form of discussions on jet lag, post workout nutrition, pre-workout supplements, and the effects of alcohol on your workouts, and on and on. Each topic is worth its own post, which will be coming. Today, my jet-lagged foray back into public writing is only on the big picture perspective as exemplified by me.

I set up my training schedule to finish a hard block prior to leaving on this trip. The week-long biking adventure seemed like a perfect opportunity for some active recovery. In theory it would have been. A few hours a day of casually spinning through Provence is a text book performance recharge, especially knowing that you’ll be well fed. What wasn’t taken into account was sleeping poorly, late night wine tasting, lots of stimulating conversation, the motivation provided by a pace line, a few wrong turns leading to under-fueled hours on the bike, and Monaco’s 24hr lifestyle with Jon’s friends.

non-planned things that can lead to overtraining:



riding harder than you planned.

Dave Ward HAHAHAHA. It's just slightly more complex than that. I sat next to Steve Edwards for 2 hours on a bus ride. If that doesn't fill your head with blog/vlog posts I don't know what will.

engaging conversation

making a wrong turn after one of the world’s most iconic climbs, leading to 12k of climbing you didn't fuel for.

focusing all remaining mental energy on the wines of provence.

four hour explorations of the maritime alpes with only 16oz of water.

enjoying the sunset... til sunrise.

Since you can’t always tell if you’re overtrained I planned a little test; the same ride pre and post trip as a gauge. About an hour into my post-test I knew I’d over cooked the holiday. The punch I had before, even while training hard, was lacking. I’d have to shut things down and lose perhaps a week of World’s training. I was hit with further evidence later that night when I got a cold—the easiest to read overtraining meter there is.

After two days and lots of sleep things are feeling back to normal. I’m bummed to be missing out on the hard training that was on the schedule but keep reminding myself that 1% overtrained is worse than 25% undertrained, or so the saying goes. If that didn’t work I could fall back on how much fun the trip was because it’s always worth missing a few workouts for time well spent with good friends. Anyway, I always expect hurdles along any training program and so should you. Even professional athletes, who are paid to do nothing else, have a hard time keeping their planned schedules on track. And if pros have trouble you might, too. And this mindset will help so that when you hit life’s inevitable bump in the road you don't endo.

Mediterraneo

It seems like I’ve spent more time trying to get home this year than actually travelling. First the race in Mexico turned into an epic that lacked the actual race, then our trip to Todd’s wedding was extended, but without us able to attend the event we were travelling for. All in all, however, both experiences have ended most excellently.


our hosts, chris and giusi at our "wedding" dinner, and with phil and lena toasting to todd and patty. "here's to absent friends..."

In the film Mediterraneo a group of soldiers invade a small island off the coast of Greece in order to occupy it during WWII. Their imperialist pursuits go almost unnoticed by the natives, who didn’t know a war was going on. The soldiers settle in to the lifestyle on the island and soon have forgotten themselves. The war is over for years before anyone learns about it.


old fashioned p90x, working on chris' vineyards; and a bad climbing area with a view so good it's hard to care.

This was pretty much our vacation: the abridged version. We’d popped down to Sicily to visit friends en route to London when an Icelandic volcano put the entire world on hold. We joked as it was happening; saying that if you’d been given a list of things that might interrupt your travel volcano would have been picked last, but then found ourselves just a few days into our trip frantically worrying about how we were going to get home. Mainly we were trying to get to London for the wedding. Our attempts at finding planes, trains, or automobiles to reach Albion were getting thwarted by the hour (still trying to get a lot of money back), leaving us feeling rather stranded.


trying to get us home. but looking at my view, probably wondering why.


chris working on his 8c project and me being dwarfed by one of many excellent caves.

Not to be deterred, Phil and Lena flew to Spain, trained to Barcelona, then booked a flight to Bogata, Columbia. They had to lie to get on the flight because it was only available to citizens. As they put it, “we nearly didn’t make it. It came down to a call they made where nobody answered.” From South America they were able to get back home a few days later. Luckily they made the right choice as those attempting to head east found themselves in a quagmire as the Cairo airport shut down, stranding hundreds.


shots from ortigia: our home away from home.

right and on top: the amazing piazza duomo, which was around the corner from our apartment

We decided on the opposite approach. We were in about the most idyllic setting possible. We were staying with friends, so it was free, on the island of Ortigia in the ancient city of Siracusa, one of the most beautiful places in the world. The architecture in the town goes back thousands of years, there are more Grecian ruins in Sicily than in Greece, and the climbing is the best in the world. We decided to stay put and ride it out, even though they were predicting that the volcano might continue to erupt for a year.


"there is no place in the world more beautiful than sicily". looking at taeormina, it's hard to argue with enzo's quote from the big blue.

At first things were a little tense. As Americans, we had work to do. Sure, we were in contact. In this ever-shrinking world you can do almost anything from anywhere and, in fact, my phone worked better from Sicily than it does down the block from our office in Santa Monica. Still, it just seemed wrong, to be stuck without a time table and in a situation where there was nothing we could do about it. The American corporate machine had finally met its match: Eyjafjallajökull.


the road up mt etna has to be one of the best bikes rides on the planet. you go from the sea through a city, then towns, then vineyards, apple orchards, forests, and finally lava flows leading to the ski station at 6,000' on the world's most active volcano.

lowering off of the 2nd ascent of what chris and i both agreed was one of the best routes we'd ever done. it ascended a massive cave through two man made dwellings that were somehow constructed in an overhanging cliffs thousands of years ago. the base of this cliff is littered with ancient artifacts. at another climbing area in the region there's a necropolis with 5,000 tombs carved into the rock. the history on this island is ridiculously overwhelming.


sizing up the competition lest we get stranded forever.

Acquiescing into the Mediterranean lifestyle didn’t take long. By day two we were fully acclimated. Café in the Piazza Duomo, or overlooking the sea, a little work, sightseeing or climbing, Panini, siesta. We’d usually work once our offices opened in America (I work virtually so not quite as vital for me) and then get enough done to go to dinner with Chris and Giusi, which happens very late in Italy and coincides with lunch in the States. And by the time the airspace re-opened we’d found ourselves rooting for the Eyjafjallajökull to keep working her magic.

trying to keep up with the very fashionable italians.

Espana

With a Spanish winner in today’s stage of the Tour, along with a Spaniard in yellow, coupled with the success of our spring classic that happened during the summer, it seemed a fitting time for Romney’s final installment of our spring travel log: Spain.

Assault on Western Europe: Part VI. Escalada Conquistadors

In case you missed it, here are the final kilometers of today’s beautiful stage from Italy into France.

http://www.sporza.be/cm/sporza/videozone/MG_Tour/MG_Tourtips/1.567500

Astarloza’s attack, 2k out on a winding downhill finish, was picture perfect; the essence of why racing bikes is so cool. Enjoy.

We really loved our short time in Spain, as you’ll see from Lisa’s post. Until Spain, in fact, she’d never really cared too much for climbing. She pretty much just did it so she could travel around with me. A few days in Rodellar changed all that. Now she’s moving through the grades and training for our next trip.

pic: climbing in five countries in a month can improve your focus.

The Duty Free Sandbag of Andorra

Today's stage of le Tour finishes in Andorra. Looks beautiful, no? That's what we thought, too, but our experience was different.

Romney examines Andorra on her blog.

In part, "Andorra is a sandbag. If you took Las Vegas, NYC, and Vail and put all three areas into Little Cottonwood Canyon you would end up with Andorra la Vella - and that's the best part. Okay, the setting is lovely (you keep trying to think), but what the French politely describe as a "hard edge of tax evaders" was really just a beautiful geography made grotesque by money and greed. Driving through was disappointing, but the appalling nature of what is being constructed and the high end retail of fashion and cars allowed room for amazement, if not actual enjoyment. Instead of stopping in this place for even a souvenir magnet we stayed in bumper-to-bumper traffic to roll through as quickly as possible to the freedom, beauty, and sunshine of the Cataluya Region of Spain."

It is, however, quite steep. Today's finale should be painful for the riders and fun to watch. But for once, I'm actually glad I'm not there.

Viva la France!

Back to now-not-so-recent trip, here is Romney's account of France. Tres magnifique!

Assault of Western Europe, Part IV: The French Revolution

It's a long report, with heaps of pics. Enjoy!

In spite of their reputation for rudeness, I've always enjoyed the French people and their county. Very much so. This trip was being hosted by Americans. Namely, my friends Bruce and Alisa, whom I knew from my climbing days and, also, from hangin' out at the art studio they opened just down the street from where I lived in LA. Like me, they were climbers turned cyclists. Like me, the loved the French lifestyle.

Bruce and Alisa were on taking a year off work and living in France. Actually, they still are. They have a blog that's worth checking out, if just to make you jealous:

Our Juicy Life

After a few years of riding and racing I began climbing again. This hadn't yet happened with Bruce or Alisa and it just seemed wrong given there were living amongst some of the most beautiful limestone walls in the world. One of the coolest things we did was to get Bruce back on a rope. He was a super strong climber, as well as a climbing instructor, back in the day. It was fun watching him, not only get psyched himself, but how his instructor-ness came back also. I think he taught Lisa more in a couple of days out than I have in a year.
bruce, attempting a F7b on his second climbing day in a decade. rad.
Actually, everything we did was super cool. The trip was amazing. It's always hard to leave Europe and this time was no different. It was probably harder than ever. On our last days we were looking at bed and breakfasts. I hope they buy one because I can't wait to go back.
our hosts and les artists at the incredible museum of the absurd.

Riding Cobbles

Cobbles

(click on photo for a slideshow)

Travels with Romney, Part II, is recorded here:

The Battle of Belgium

When I heard my friends Bruce and Alisa were spending a year in southern France and had a house with plenty of room for visitors, the only choice became which bike race to visit during. Like me, they’re both climbers turned cyclists, and there was no question that our holiday had to be during a race. Having been to Le Tour, the next choices were the spring classics or the Giro. Given Bruce was a cobble crazy as I was, we set our dates to include Paris-Roubaix, better known as the Hell of the North.

The trip had originally been set up to include loads of training as my final prep for the National Championships at the end of April. Post injury, the schedule changed to include loads of eating and a recreational climbing & riding schedule to build up our appetite. But back injury or no, if I was in Belgium, I was going to have a go at some cobbles.

Riding in Belgium, well, specifically Flanders, is amazing. Everything is set up around bikes. There are cafes, museums, bike shops (that are a lot like museums), and bike routes everywhere you go. All of them include stretches of famous bike races that take place on tiny rural roads. And almost all of them include cobbles. We had our choice of a stack of different classic routes, each marked by an artistic colored plaque. We began on the Ronde van Vlaanderen (Tour of Flanders) but once we’d had a taste of cobbles, we amended it to include the steepest and most famous sectors we could get to the quickest.

On the longest sector of the day, we were passed by a guy hammering in his big ring. Bruce and I were quickly on him, my own curiosity being how it would feel to ride these things at race pace (the girls were having none of such nonsense). I was worried about my back, but after a kilometer of rattling along my vision was blurred, my head numb, and my hands, arms, and shoulders felt like I’d been going full bore with a jackhammer, so much so that I couldn’t be bothered to think about the back at all. Paris-Roubaix includes over 100k of cobbles. We’d just raced one. The horror of that race is so acute that I absolutely must come back and try the amateur version of it sometime.

The Koppenberg was, by far, the hardest climb we did. It’s not even 500 meters but the cobbles are uneven, wet (I’m sure they never dry in Belgium), and hit an angle of 20%. I quickly realized why there were so many pics of pro racers walking up these inclines. It wasn’t that they couldn’t ride them. It’s just that they’re so steep and rutted that anything causing you to lose you line or change cadence might force you off your bike. And in a pack these things are constant. And once off your bike you can’t remount, so you’re best off to just run to the top and get back on. You’re not riding that fast anyway.

Well, at least not on the Koppenberg. For our next ride we scanning the distances and grades of the cobbled climbs and choose the Muur de Geraldsberg as one that looked the fiercest. Cobbles for 1.3K that hit 19% promised to be horrible, so we tooled around at a pedestrian pace for most of our ride so we wouldn’t burn out all those fast twitch fibers we’d need to ride all the way to the Muur’s famous summit church.

Turns out that cobbles aren’t created equal. Those on the Muur are smaller and closer together. Not only could we ride it but we could hard. On a subsequent ascent, in my big ring, I could hardly imagine how fast Divolder must have been going on these narrow roads to drop everyone, as he had done a week prior en route to winning the Ronde van Vlaanderen.

Food and beer are at least as important in Belgium as riding. And, of course, there’s a pub at the top of the Muur. We recovered with Frittes and “the world’s best beer” (according to our waiter), and contemplated if Heaven was just a bit like Belgium.

Travels With Romney: England

Since my blog is all about fitness n’ stuff, I’ll leave it to my wife’s wit to recount our recent excursions. Here is part I of her journal on England.

Assault on Western Europe, Part I – Conquering the Empire

I’ll add a little fitness background on our Albion hosts, Todd and my brother.

In the early days of Beachbody, Brian was one of my earliest test subjects. When we were designing X, we were putting our graduate members through about any combination of exercise and diet as they would stand (which was a lot, I might add). We experimented with amalgams of all of Beachbody’s products to that time, which led to some grueling training schedules. One of the craziest of the bunch was called “Cindy and Pixie’s Really Hard Program”. This became rather absurd in the latter rounds, with a schedule that made P90X look like a warm-up. Of note, the only two people not to finally drop off the pace were Brian and one other girl, who were the only two of the group using creatine daily—a nice bit of anecdotal support for that supplement.

Todd has been my partner on many an adventure, including the making of Icarus Descending. On a fitness note, he’s rather well known for his birthday challenges. They include all sorts of bizarre feats of strength, such as locking off at the top of a two-finger one-arm pull-up and drinking a beer(pic), following probably the hardest bouldering circuit ever done at Devil’s Lake with a 32-mile run that stopped at 16 bars, where a shot of whiskey was consumed at each, and doing 716 pull-ups in an hour.

I Have A Pot

The rest of you is normal. Normal face, normal legs, normal hips, normal ass, but with a big, perfectly round pot belly.

Fabienne, Pulp Fiction

On return from a moveable feast across Europe I’ve grown a pot. My climbing and, hence, my goal for this program will stand a much better chance at realization if I lose it.

My fitness is okay. I was climbing grade 7s quickly in Europe, with pot. Sans pot, things should drastically improve.

The plan for the first two weeks will be as thus:

4 days a week of riding and/or running at aerobic pace (mainly) on an empty stomach, C workouts.

2 days per week of synergistic whole body exercising, B workouts.

3 days per week of climbing/climbing training, one A, two B workouts.

Week one will only avoid junk foods. Week two will be severely caloric restricted. Week three will be the start of another virtual Giro. Its plan will be determined later.

I’d also like to make a few improvements to this blog, with more added photo streams and video, as well as adding a lot of info targeted towards anyone doing a three month program.

For an analysis of A,B,& C workouts click here.

above: day one photo, with bruce, sportin’ the pot and looking the part of a craggin’ french baker.

Best Year Ever

My wife just wrote a blog called Best New Year's Ever. I felt I should one up her. I try to live life with the rationale that whatever I'm currently doing is the best thing I've ever done. I probably don't always believe it but it seems counterproductive to live any other way. This year, however, makes a case that could be argued in court.

I began the year at my brother's wedding in India.


I found a lot to like in India, though not all of it lived up up to the books I'd read in my youth. 2008 began with an attempt at a big party, which turned into wandering the streets of Calcutta, and celebrating with some random locals.

The next day I was headed for Nepal. After about 30 hours of rattling through India, consuming only street food and chai, I witnessed my first sunset of 2008 jammed into a mini-bus with about 25 people whilst fighting a bout of dysentary.

Nepal suited me,



but I was excited to get back home, where Romney and I were about to surprise a lot of people with our bipartisan campaign, which commenced with a surprise ceremony in Switzerland.

Back at home, work was going well as P90X and Ten Minute Trainer became the two most popular fitness programs in the USA. As one of these programs creators, I then embarked on a blogging throughout my next round of X to shed light on some of the main questions we get on the Message Boards. Between this post in March, and this one in July, you'll find a lot of info about 90X you won't hear elsewhere.
Next, we got Beata back.

Who not only became a great companion for Tuco, but a great training partner for me. We promptly went out and stompeed the competition in a duathlon.

Our campaign then bought a new headquarters and commenced a series of victory parties.



If you shoot enough, you never know what you'll catch:
romney girls with a slightly out-of-character mick in the background.
mom and lisa with a highly out-of-character bob in the background.
josh, completely in character, enjoying a party.
We then began zipping off from one adventure to the next.

The popularity of 90x took us from a how to look good in a bathing suit company to how to get ready for a professional athletics career. We continually find more and more athletes using it to enhance their sports performance, but it was still a surprise when X's popularity landed a trip for (Beachbody President) Jon and I to the Olympics.

The fall lasted just long enough for a family-themed birthday challenge.

Then the snows hit, making it time to strap on the skis, make some goals for 2009, and concoct a new training plan.
tuco transforms into a wolf each winter.
Instead of resting on a successful 2008, Beachbody's got big plans as well. We just launched ChaLEAN Extreme and will take an attempt to ante up on 90X with Shaun T's Insanity. Shaun and I promoted it and his other programs and went in depth into how we're going to cure our obesity epidemic on Blog Talk Radio. Our interview took so long it cut into my socializing at our holiday party.
with jonathan gelfand, esq., and slim in 6 creator debbie siebers at the beachbody bash.
As the holidays rolled around, Romney and I were completely traveled out. We spent some fantastic family quiet time skiing, lounging, and running in the New Year.


If it was her best New Year ever, it was certainly my best Christmas.

Happy New Year! Here's to 2009.