
As I approach my 43rd birthday, I find myself pondering my own mortality far more than I do the unlimited potential on the blank canvas of life that lies before me. Now, I know 43 is not “old,” but for the overweight, middle aged person, it can seem a lot closer to the end than to the beginning.
Do I continue to lament the day of my pending demise or do I chart a course down a different path? Should I just throw caution to the wind and see how far a lifelong diet of wings, pizza and beer can take me, or should I start to mix in a new attitude of healthy eating and see how far I can take myself? I choose the latter. The time is now to acknowledge and embrace the changes that need to be made to alter the course of my destiny.
I joined a gym the other day. I’ll be honest. I rue the day of my pending confrontation with Mr. Treadmill. I do not expect this relationship to be filled with exuberance and mirth…