A couple of things I don’t really care about:
- Living to be old
- Looking like a swimsuit model.
So why am I eating healthy? (I’ve lost 17lbs in two months by the way). Why am I walking? Why am I stretching with a yoga ball? (Yes, I bought one). And why am I lifting weights?
The answer to all of the above is NOT because I enjoy it. I don’t enjoy avoiding fettuccine Alfredo, fried chicken and Nutter Butter cookies. Never have I woken up and thought, “yaaah, I get to work out now!” Lifting more than 12 ounces isn’t thrilling. When I was 20 years old and looked with disdain upon pot-bellied middle age men and swore I wouldn’t become one of them, I never imagined counting calories and carbs and eating cottage cheese. Of course, at 20 I knew nothing about metabolism.
But yet here I am – one of them. The fat man in the mirror is not appealing. However, I’m sufficiently lazy enough that I could probably suppress my disgust to prevent doing anything about it. I take more satisfaction in how my yard looks. After all, Sandra loves me and I’ve told her that she can never divorce me, so who is there to impress?
Ok, then why do I bother?
A couple of reasons.
One, I like not being in pain – muscular, stomach, and especially heartburn. A little effort, a little discipline and the very little wisdom I have can go a long way towards preventing pain.
Two, as I grow older I want to have the strength, agility and mobility to do everything I want and need to do – functional health. I pray that I don’t come to a time in which I lose the ability to care for myself.
So if I live one more day or one hundred more years, I want each day to be in good health. Of course, that’s what everyone wants. And I realize that my life, health and next breath are in the Lord’s hands, but as a Good Father He expects his children to take some responsibility.
And there’s nothing wrong with a few Nutter Butters every now and then. Some days it’s just what the doctor ordered.