Wednesday January 9, 2013

Since the last time we talked and this time I've turned another year older. For me, age is a number so it really doesn't matter what the age is because you're only as old as you feel (which I guess makes me 423). Man, I hurt all the time. I go at it pretty hard, this is true: I run, I bike and I do something called Crossfit, which is quite possibly the best way to induce self-vomiting that I've come across in a while. Now I haven't actually tossed my cookies, but I've come close a few times, but when I'm done I feel amazing. Then I sit down for 10 minutes then try to get back up ... amazing feeling gone.

It really has nothing to do with the Crossfit and more to do with me trying to fight off Father Time (I'm starting to hate that man). As a kid I was active in organized sports and the practices that came with them. In the offseason it was hot dogs and the gym. Then I got to college where it was more of the same sports, practices, hot dogs, gym, but now there was beer. Lots and lots of beer. The "freshman 20" turned into the "freshman 67" and I was on my way to struggling with my weight, a battle I still fight. But I've found that if I keep my eye on a target I stay focused, and if I'm better focused then I can keep levelheaded about my weight. For instance, with birthdays comes birthday cake. If I could have married a birthday cake I would have - I loves me some cake (chocolate cake with chocolate fudge icing, the thicker the better).


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But when you love something that much you tend to overindulge, so it's off to the gym, out for a run or (thanks to my lovely wife, Vickie) my new indoor bike trainer. But at that point I'm just fighting to stay level.

Another year older? Honestly, on the day of my birthday I was technically only one day older. It wasn't like I entered into some time-space continuum and woke up 365 days later. Nope, just did it the old-fashioned way; followed the calendar, checked off my days and arrived at my original birthday once again.

But I am entering into that point in my life where sayings such as "Youth is wasted on the young" and "If I knew then what I know now" resonate loudly with me. When I was 25, I could have probably done a Tough Mudder or Ironman with very little training. Now, OMG (as the kids say), I had to set a date two years into the future to do an Ironman Triathlon. But it's good, I've got my focus, my prize, and until 2014 I'm good for a goal to hit and achieve.

But until then if I sit too long I stiffen right up, I'm talking I look like Red Foxx when I walk for the first 20 steps then I loosen up to a John Wayne then (and only if it's warmer than 50 degrees) I can walk somewhat normally. But it's the love of the game right? For me it is, but it wasn't always that way; there was a part of my life spent as the fat man who sat around and did nothing. But as 30 gets further and further away, and 50 is ever present I'm doing everything to feel like that 30-year-old again.

Bottom line - age is a number and the calendar always wins, but we get to control when it wins (at least for the most part). So I'll wake up tomorrow another day older and in 362 days I will have completed another year on the planet. I'll get another present or two and I'll hopefully still be able to keep moving it forward. What the Hell is Up with that?

Fish is the morning talent on Classic Hits 92.7 FM. He also offers up his opinion on-line at www.whatdahell.net. E-mail him at fish@wkvt.com.