A couple of months ago, a frenemy of mine (that's an enemy you're fake friendly with, if you're feigning innocence) bragged that she tried a new workout program and raved about her results. She claimed to be the fittest she'd ever been. Enter my competitive streak, which is about a mile wide and my ultimate Achilles heel. What did I do? Went online and ordered the DVDs, and scheduled them for express delivery. Anything she can do, I can do better.
The program is Turbo Fire and is self-described as an "intense cardio conditioning program." The theme of the whole kit and caboodle is fire--the instructor constantly says things like "fire it up, torch those calories, feel that burn, add fuel to the fire...." And a million more of these catchy little ditties. I am about four weeks in at this point, so let me give you the lowdown.
First, I have renamed this regimen Torture Time. Turbo Fire doesn't even begin to do it justice. I have done P90X many times and survived and thrived. I'll admit I was a bit cocky going into this, because if I can workout with Tony Horton and BRING IT with P90X, I assumed (incorrectly) that I was a fitness rock star.
Oh, how quickly we are be humbled. Torture Time is an interval workout, which means you learn the moves, a fire alarm sounds (seriously) and for one minute, you go as hard as you can go. A few seconds of recovery and then the fire alarm sounds again. After two days of working out like that, I was walking the dog and a firetruck went by, sirens blaring. I immediately thought, "Oh God, I have to do that damn workout now!" Then I felt relieved when I realized it was probably just someone's house burning down. Torture Time will give you some serious post traumatic stress.
Please imagine punching, kicking and jumping as quickly as humanly possible. No, faster than that. These people are moving faster than ninjas hyped up on crack, and they are all rocking flat ironed ponytails and earrings the size of hula hoops. In the meantime, yours truly is wearing double sports bras, a headband to keep the sweat out of my eyes, and a knee brace. Looking good and feeling fine.
Several of the workouts are labeled "EZ Fire." I wrongly assumed this would mean less intensity; instead I have come to realize it must stand for extra zealous. Forty-five minutes into one of these EZ things, my arms were so tired they went numb. For real. I could not lift them over my head. Since the DVD titles are clearly bogus, I have come up with my own titles for the Torture Time workouts. These include: WTF, This Isn't Happening, She's Trying to Kill Me, and my personal least favorite B*tch Please. These provide a much more accurate description of what is happening in each workout.
During the cooldown, your fearless fitness fiend instructor Chalene says, "See? Don't you feel fantastic? This is why you workout--to feel this way!" Um, no, Chalene. I do not feel fantastic. I feel as if I have been run over by a Mack truck, and as soon as I scrape myself up off the floor, I am probably going to vomit. What a reward. Last week, I actually finished one of the longer workouts and thought I was making stellar progress. Getting the hang of it. Conquering that mountain. And then I was seized by a coughing fit so hard it made me gag. Twice. Maybe I'm not conquering just yet.
The DVDs came with a 90-day money back guarantee, but you know I'm too stubborn to send them back and admit defeat. The workout ninjas and I press on. Let's just hope the sirens I keep hearing are fire drills, not ambulances.