I’m really glad I’m not doing any more pushups. Well, at least to the degree I was doing them. But, alas, after pressing myself up from the floor 2,900 times, I’m all the better for it.

Starting Weigh-In (February 1)

• 297

Final Weigh-In (March 1)

• 292

Another five pounds kept off. And then I celebrated with a Chorizo quesadilla from Tacos El Cunado. If you’ve ever eaten one, you’ll know that 292 was in some serious trouble. Don’t fret, because I’ve started the next thing already, which I correctly predicted would kick my ass.

Jumping jacks.

Three hundred of them. Per day.

Like a fool, I haven’t been scaling these challenges and just going full force into each.

This is no time to learn lessens. It’s about powering through no matter what. Like binging a Netflix show you put off for months after telling all your friends you absolutely watch. The first few will be rough, but once you find the time to really carve out a space, it will fly by … and leave you sweaty.

The biggest thing I did not account for was the great deal of pain jumping around actually is. My calves are sore every minute of the day, and it’s not really getting better. I’m having flashbacks to freshman year when I got terrible shin splints and the trainers had to saran wrap bags of ice to my legs. Who needs pants during winter conditioning anyway?