Sweat has saved my life. When I got out of rehab three years ago, I was broke, homeless, and shaky. Sure as shittin’.

I had a belly full of Seroquel and nowhere to go. I was fat, bloated, sore and sorry.

Then I stumbled on a 24 hour gym not 900 feet from my rundown apartment. It was a sign, for sure.

At 70, I didn’t think I had any mojo left. I looked like I had melted when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I was a pear shaped 230 pounds and felt every ounce.

Then the rains came.

The sweat started pouring out of my dilapidated frame and I felt new life.

I would sit on an exercise bike in the dark all through the holidays that followed. I lifted weights, I ran and I biked every day.

My prison doors were starting to open.

Sleep without medication started to follow. My thinking cleared and brightened.

A different story was starting come out of my mirror. I could see my lines again. The lines of a healthy, symmetrical, muscular, firmly erect, older man. 45 pounds lighter and tighter.

No matter our troubles, sweat is a soothing balm that can gives us new life.

There is a whole different world on the other side of sweat.

I’m glad I took the trip.