My sense of accomplishment, though, was short-lived. I was in the Savasana Corpse Pose at the end of the session when my pajama-clad, bedheaded four-year-old poked his head into the garage (or, as I like to call it, my Deluxe Home Fitness Center). He rubbed his eyes, peered sleepily at all the silent, prostrate bodies on the TV screen, and declared: "P90X is WAAAAY too easy, dad."
