Last week in Curaçao, I was in the gym doing weighted pull-ups. The gym owner (a huge guy with bulging muscles) walks over and asks:
“You work out a lot, right?”
“Yeah, well, kind of.”
“No. You work out a lot. You’re strong, man. How old are you?”
“52.”
He fistbumped me. “Respect.”
Let me be clear. He’s met stronger people than me.
Some of them were probably in that gym at that very moment.
He didn’t respect my pull-ups.
He respected my age.
Because he understood the discipline it takes to not become 10 to 15 kg overweight and just slide into a life of comfort.
The examples are all around us.
I don’t drink. I eat clean. I train every day for at least an hour.
Simple? Yes.
Easy? Not always.
But necessary.
Because at 52, I understand one thing very very clear:
My health will be the first limiting factor in having kick-ass adventures and making memories with the people I love.
You can have 1,000 problems.
Get really sick, and suddenly you have only one.
Whatever I can do to beat the odds, I’m in.
So I’m not waiting.
Are you?
PS: Enjoy this?
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