“Just press play,” he muttered.

He lay there for five full minutes. His chest throbbed. His back ached. His abs felt like a washboard had been hammered into them. And yet, as he rolled over and pushed himself up—feeling the deep, shaky fatigue in every muscle—he smiled.

Standard push-ups. He knocked out 30, chest burning. Then, wide-front pull-ups. His lats screamed after 8. “That’s it?” Tony chirped. “Your back is gonna look like a cobra hood.”

were the final boss. He held his feet an inch off the floor, twisting the weight side to side. His core screamed for mercy. He paused at 35 reps. Tony’s recorded voice laughed from the screen. “You’re gonna be sore… but that’s the good kind of sore.”

Leo grabbed a protein shake and wrote a single line on his calendar:

He dragged the mat over.

His abs, fresh and unbothered, quickly turned into a knot of fire. Fifer Scissors came next. Legs up, scissoring. His lower back pressed into the mat. His hip flexors howled.

And that was the X factor. Not the DVD. Not Tony. The decision to do the thing you didn’t want to do, right after doing the thing you already hated.