The End Game

Life can be a suck-filled experience. It can roll over you and leave you begging for death. For every thought you have, there’s a disease to match it. I have no idea what this struggle is about and I don’t spend my time dwelling on it.

All I want to do is minimize the pain of living. I want the ability to pick myself up and dust myself off after every major fuck up. I want to keep on keeping on until the whistle blows.

I don’t want go off like a stick of pepperoni either, slice by slice.!

If something nasty befalls me it won’t be because I let myself fall apart physically and mentally.

I am 73 years old and never, ever, been this physically, or mentally, fit. We still have the tremendous capacity to grow muscle, get lean, stable  and flexible. It’s all there, waiting.

You just gotta put a little work in. It’s your physical 401K.

Maybe you’ve had a great life already. Maybe you’re not looking for more. You still have to tread water until the buzzer. You can do it easy, or you can do it hard.

Most of the folks I meet don’t give it too much thought. And it shows. I see it in their shopping carts, by the extra beef they’re swinging, by the overuse of golf carts and motorized shopping carts. Nobody walks these days.

I see the human wreckage every day. Most of it is ignorant needlessness. Life’s a crap shoot they will say. I say, God helps those who help them self. If there is a God.

You gotta have an end game. What are your retirement years going to look like? The demands on our bodies don’t lessen because we’re retired. You need strong muscles and a vibrant constitution to fight the gravity of aging.

You need muscle, you need strong bones, you need a stable structure. You need a resilient outlook.

You can’t do anything if you’re in pain. Pain will sidetrack you, confuse you, consume you and addict you to things. I see that ghostly white pallor on faces many years younger than mine.

And now they have plenty of time to think about it, to worry about it and to get prescribed for it. Plenty of time to sit in waiting rooms and prescription pick-ups. Or wait for the Handi-van to come and get them. They also have plenty of people to discuss their aches and pains with.

Most of what I’m seeing could have been avoided by keeping their weight down, putting on some muscle and moving their bodies. A shame. These are your years, not your company’s.

These are the years you were always pining about at the water cooler. You put so much time and effort into these years where you could smell the roses. Now you’re smelling hospital disinfectant.

What’s your end game?


Please note: I welcome comments that are offensive, illogical or off-topic from readers in all states of consciousness.

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