I just lost my dog. I watched her get old and die. I don’t know how old she was, she was rescued.
It’s been hard to get out of bed these days, but I do… to train. I train very hard for my age, for any age. I’m 73, and I’m considered an elderly man. I can’t abide that.
Because I feel my work is not done here.
I get in a 5 mile run by 3:00 am. At 4:30, I ride my bike 10 miles to lift weights for an hour. Then I walk the two mile round trip to pick up my groceries for the day before he sun gets too hot.
At 3:00 pm I ride for 35 minutes in at least 100 degrees, every day. It will help me sleep.
These days, my depression is heavy. It makes me question everything. Hurling myself into strenuous activity blunts the negativity that wants to take me down. Life seems pointless.
They took my dog.
Waking up in an empty bed and reaching for my sneakers feels like a heavy, wet blanket. Still, I push myself to roll out.
All the time my brain is asking “What’s the use?” “Why work so hard?” “What are you trying to prove?” “You’re elderly, remember?”
I get out the door fast before I become despondent and fall back under the covers.
Running in the quiet desert night, answers come…..in torrents.
I know exactly why I do what I do.
To live longer and be more productive.
To never be a burden.
To remain relevant.
To live without pain.
To avoid disease.
To respect what I see in the mirror.
To have more energy in my day.
To spread that energy.
To be capable of service to others.
To have more confidence in a world where ageism exists.
To have more vitality.
To improve my cognitive skills.
To produce good work every day.
To outrun bill collectors. 🙂
To be an example to others.
To die fully used up.
To celebrate and be grateful for the gift of life.
To be here for the little furry soul that’s out there waiting for me.
Why do you train?