On the edge of mid life, I told myself it’d be nice if I live another 37 years. As I’m trying to exercise more, the increase in effort causes stress. Yesterday was a push ups day that left my wrists feeling injured, even pushing down the top of a soap dispenser hurt. They day before I was doing squats and then it became a challenge to sit on a toilet, to be honest the toilets in my house are too short. Continuing my regiment is necessary to feel healthy and loosing weight will make everything easier, but eventually feeling like out of shape will be indistinguishable from getting older. The injuries start coming and they don’t stop coming, still there’s nothing to be done except be more active now. As Hamlet said, “Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them.” Meaning we suffer either way, from a life long fight or a slow death. It’s probably obvious that I’m running low since my writing seems darker. When tired, I relive past mistakes, what a nasty trick of the mind. Then I look forward, how to get out of this mess? Rest, rest and run, then repeat.









