It is apparent, by lack of posting, I have not gotten back on track.
It isn’t because of being down – emotionally, I am in a pretty good place.
It isn’t because of any physical ailment, yeah I had a bad respiratory infection, but that has passed.
I must ask myself – Why haven’t I gotten back on track?
I know the answer. I don’t want to admit it out loud, but here it is.
It is because I don’t care.
I said it.
I have no interest in watching what I eat. I have no interest in getting up early to hit the gym. I have no drive to challenge my muscles against cold, unyielding iron.
I lack desire. I lack determination. And, since I don’t have the first two D‘s, I have no reason to enact the third, discipline. I have zero drive to do a goddamn thing to resolve my lack of physical fitness.
Is it my age? I am going to be 53 this year. Living over half a century makes one realize that the bulk of life is in the rear-view mirror.
Looking back, I have lived a pretty good life. I traveled over half the world. I lived in Hawaii, and although briefly, I realized another dream and lived in Florida. For a period of time, I was professionally very successful. As a Chiropractor, I have been lucky to help over one thousand patients. I have written a few books and stories, and although they haven’t sold well, I did write.
I don’t know what’s left. I have no one with whom to share my life. I have nothing left to prove to anyone, including myself. Considering that the years ahead are becoming fewer and fewer, and if I am being honest with myself, I don’t care how many remain; I have to ask –
Why spend any portion of those years those years toiling in a gym?
Why spend those years denying the sinful pleasures of sugar soaked, carb crammed foods?
Why concern myself with eating healthy?
Why bother making the effort to re-strengthen my body?
I have accepted the reality that my life will end, and whether I am healthy or not, just the same, eventually, it will end.
I guess the big questions I must answer are –
Do I want to live the few remaining years, disciplined, motivated and fit — with the result enjoying a physically active life.
Or, do I want to be a lazy and gluttonous, with the result being fat and unable to walk but a few steps without gasping for oxygen?
I don’t have any answers. Yet, for some reason, early this morning, I dragged myself from bed and hit the gym. I managed only 3 sets of chest and 3 sets of back. It simultaneously felt both good and pathetic.
Will I do it again tomorrow?
Only God fucking knows!