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"  Time it takes to lose 10 pounds: 40 days Degree of difficulty: Hard Day one, I didn&amp;#039;t have a clue what the 90 stood for. I hated the name. I felt silly saying it. P90X: a rejected name for an old Pontiac prototype. P90X: one of those potentially life-bearing planets that seem to turn up circling semiproximate stars all the time these days. P90X: a kid&amp;#039;s red wagon, a knockoff Radio Flyer. Even after the twelve-disc set arrived in the mail, I butchered the name again and again \u2014 X90X, 90XP \u2014 until I discovered a kind of nation of people who&amp;#039;d sat through the late-night infomercials, the endless testimonials, and then gone through the program. They didn&amp;#039;t even associate the program with the number. They talked about the man, the one who invented the thing, the man they&amp;#039;d chosen to follow. &amp;quot;Oh, Tony Horton?&amp;quot; a friend said on an elevator. &amp;quot;He is nasty.&amp;quot; The woman next to him nodded with vigor. And what&amp;#039;s so nasty? At first, nothing. Horton is keenly aware of his own dollish good looks, plainly knowledgeable, mostly jargon-free, and has a decent sense of humor. The first day is all push-ups and pull-ups, with lots of room for begging out. The next day you&amp;#039;re doing jump training, with encouragement to take it easy if you have to. Every other day, there&amp;#039;s a short, hellacious &amp;quot;Ab Ripper&amp;quot; workout. One day you&amp;#039;re lifting for shoulder and back. The next it&amp;#039;s yoga. More lifting. Then kenpo karate, more shadow-boxing than martial art. Then lifting again. And then a week has gone by. Different muscles every day. Nothing hurts. Much. You get a day off, and it starts over again. Then, suddenly, everything gets nasty. Having done it once, you expect to do it better. You stop listening to the encouragement to take it easy. You start to hear Horton pushing you to maintain your form, push harder. Same disc, too. Time passes. Horton keeps a timer in the corner of the screen. Exercises grow more complicated. Horton helps time along, injecting stories into the routines, making dumb jokes, which you hear repeated every week or so. And before long, the time you&amp;#039;re giving the workout becomes a story of its own, told in a discrete sixty-minute unit of your own day. I was good at jump training. But I could never get past twenty minutes of the sixty-minute yoga session. I&amp;#039;m telling you, the warrior pose undid me. I looked around for someone to tell, for someone to ask, but the only one I wanted an answer from was Horton himself. And I only knew him through the disc \u2014 through P90X. It was day fifty-four. By then I knew what the number stood for. Ninety days. If I gave it the time I&amp;#039;d learned to take, the time Horton had shown me, I&amp;#039;d glean the answer myself. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/lifestyle/health/a9735/p90x-review-0411/>