I always take a mental inventory of where I am at. That's everything - Mental, physical, spiritual...everything.
As I get older (Author's note: yet, still stunningly handsome), injuries mount and I tend to do things differently to remain on my feet, so to speak.
This year has had it's moments. In between testing, there are bad knees, hip pointers, pulled this pulled that. I'll take it all and you have to keep the perspective in check.
Then someone reminded me.
It has been 3 bouts. I stopped to take that inventory again.
Six years of age.
Then Eight years of age.
Bypass at 37 years of age.
Tumor 3 years ago.
Better than David Blaine. Criss Angel's got nothing.
All I can come up with - WTF. Not a classic line or anything but it fits. It is a reminder. The questions flood back - how many bullets do you have?
Today was a rest day with just situps in the morning. I'll admit it. I pushed harder.
I look at other men my age, and see the spoils of middle age mania setting in. Beers, TV, wings...all happy to slow it down. Comfort is key for haven't we lived to the halfway point? Aren't we due some rest before facing the later years?
I performed the 12th pull up yesterday and felt something 'go' in the back. Now I understand - shoot it up and get back out there - you can't take a play off. There is nary a breather coming. Not when the reminders are always hanging around.
Screw the shrinks.
You want a level playing field. Too much to ask?
If it's tilted then I want it tilted back. And now.
After the anger and, yes, the fear abate, then I have to dial in.
Do what I do? You bet.
Does it hurt? You bet.
Am I tired? Yes.
Do I stop?
If I did, all I need is a stark reminder.