24 Hours into The Challenge

So here I am, 24 hours into The Challenge. I got home today to my son trash talking me. I actually don't mind as I want him motivated and focused. I trashed him back, calling him a punk. He calls me an old man. Yeah, we're real original.

I make up some outrageous lies about my first work-out, saying I ran ten miles on the treadmill in 30 minutes. Joshua's (my son) not so hot with math, but The Boss (my dear wife) instantly calls BS. She's right but what the heck, it was fun seeing the look on Joshua's face.

Joshman (he was really into Batman as a kid) bragged about his workout routine today - how he walked and ran on our treadmill, and knocked out push-ups every hour or two. I'm proud of him but I can't tell him that, instead I scorn and mention yet another Army story where only my daring-do saves the day. Eyes roll in the room.... I think they're onto me.

My almost-12-year-old daughter comes into the den later and shyly asks me if she could also participate in our challenge. Together we look up the Army PT scores for females and she writes them down on a pad of paper. Twenty minutes later, she comes up from the basement, her cheeks bright red, and proudly tells me she just ran a mile on the treadmill! Just where does she get her Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder from, I wonder?

I'm starting to think about bed and I'm only a little sore. This is good as I didn't want to push it my first day back.

We'll see how it goes when I attempt to get out of bed tomorrow. Getting old is not for the faint of heart.