Harder…

That’s Baby A. He’s my latest why…

Had my annual wellness appointment yesterday. Doc told me my numbers were freakin’ magic. Body composition was money. Resting heart rate was scaring him a bit (38) until we talked it through. He wants me to add a couple supplements and cut some sugar. I’ve gotten a little sloppy since the heart attack with sugar. Nothing nuts but just not been as tight with my carb intake. I knew this. I talked to Miss about it prior. Doc showed me my numbers. Nothing alarming but it was going up. Still green, you know, but not as green.

Today, I’m tightening it up. New discipline. Bright boundary. Done so. Not unlike I told my client yesterday who really, really lacks discipline, we cannot chase excellence without it. You gotta know why and you must measure. It doesn’t get easier to stick to disciplines as you mature. It gets harder. Excuses are more prevalent. Peers pressure you to let nature take her course.

Wine and cheese. Whine and complain. Watch and reminisce. Comfort and convenience. You’ve earned the couch, you know.

A healthy/physical life is hard. At 63 my aim is to go harder, not easier. I want to burn out bright, not slowly fade away. I just hired LilRyRy, to come kick my ASS every Wednesday morning at the 3PP. We’re adding another day to stretch, strain, and use bands, bells, and bars following his lead. Today was a hard 45. I texted him, thanks. My instruction to him. Ccd freakin’ magic.

Harder.

Live hard. Love harder…