39. I’m 39 years old. Nothing blows as much as coming to the realization that you’re past the half-way point of the average natural life span of a human. I remember when I was a teen thinking ‘Holy crap, being over 30 is OLD.’. So, now I’m almost at 40. According to the younger me I have one foot in the grave and life is accelerating towards oblivion.

Keeping in mind that I’m writing this knowing that there’s a possibility that my trainer, Brandi, is going to read this I can honestly say “Sure, I can probably lose a pound or ten.” Over the past year/year and a half I’ve been hitting the gym and I’m really not sure why. My doctor thinks she knows why – high blood pressure, bad cholesterol and a predisposition to diabetes lead her list. Granted, those are all issues that we all probably have to contend with as we age. But therein lies the rub:

I thought getting older meant that I get to run down my body.

That’s the joy of adulthood, isn’t it? Left over pizza or an ice cream sandwich for breakfast, eating any weird thing sight with little regard for the effects on my body and a relatively sedentary lifestyle were all things that I was looking forward to in my declining years. Being a kid means being told to eat right and lead a healthy lifestyle. Subject yourself to eating X amount of carbs, Y amount of protein and Z amount of calories and your body will be strong and healthy when you get older.

Treat your body as if it were a temple, they say. Everyone else can call their body a temple, I’m fine with referring to mine as the funnel cake stand at a festival. This funnel cake stand is sometimes content sitting on the couch playing a video game while the dog lays with it’s head in my lap coveting the Cheeto that fell on my belly.

I thought this was the time in my life where my body could just go to shit! Who am I trying to impress?? Women?! HA! I think I’ve passed the age where I’d be attractive to anyone. I’m just a few years away from being the creepy old guy at the bar hanging out with the twenty-somethings. Maybe I’ll grow a ponytail.

So here I am, complaining about living a healthier lifestyle. I’m dragging my sorry ass to the gym about 5 days out of the week for voluntary torture. Lifting weights, hitting the heavy bag and speed bag, doing ab work and contorting my body in ways that really aren’t natural. I sweat, my muscles hurt and I’m tired; I exhaust myself both physically and mentally during my workouts.

Crap. I think I like it.