People ask me all the time--from sedentary friends and acquaintances to the medical professionals who assist me in my quest--why I go so hard in my fitness quest.
The truth is, I could go a lot harder. Some people do. They spend hours per day exercising until they go from super-obese to the societal norm we call thin.
I could just go for walks every night and I'd benefit enormously from that activity. I'd lose weight and regain energy while toning the largest muscles in my body, those in the lower half that hold us up.
Part of it is that I do nothing half-assed. I either commit to something 100% or I don't do it. This comes from a fear of failure and an obsessive personality.
Another part of it is the psychological high I get from being in the zone.
But what really drives me is a mix of anger and appreciation. I know that sounds like an odd mix so I'll just jump to the point.
If you did not have the use of your legs and were confined to a wheel chair say, since you were a kid, what would you do if you suddenly had the permanent full use of your legs? Would you live a "normal life" sitting in front of a TV or computer screen all day, or would you run a marathon? You'd probably run ten marathons. You'd probably do everything you could possibly fit into a day.
I wasn't completely physically restricted when I was at my worst but I was increasingly disabled. There's a lot I couldn't do that healthy people take for granted. Much of what life has to offer was off the table for me. I was resigned to always having only the smallest taste of the joys the world has available to the able-bodied person.
So should it be a surprise that I strive to be all I can be? Too make my heart the opposite of what it was when I hit rock bottom? To improve every day? To seek out more and more out of life?
It's as simple as this: You don't know what you have until it's gone.
I go hard because of all that I had lost.
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