Painting 50

I recently turned 48, which is crazy to say. I am struggling to fully grasp that number. Wasn’t I twenty just a few years ago? I feel like I am in my twenties, mentally. It’s just, I don’t feel like that. Not anymore. Truth is, while I may be 48, my body feels twice that age.

I am in the worst shape I have ever been. Period. I am six feet tall and I weigh 300 pounds. My shoulders hurt, my back hurts, I have plantar fasciitis. I have had two knee surgeries on my left knee and, from what my doctor has told me, my knee is basically bone on bone at this point and he wouldn’t recommend running unless I want to be in immense pain. That’s always a good sign, when your doctor says your knees are toast.

To be blunt, I hate nearly everything about my exterior appearance. And I use that word for a reason. I am sick and tired of hating myself. I am sick and tired of making up excuses and justifying why I feel this way and look this way.

So that’s it, no more. In two years I will turn the mind boggling age of 50 and I am going to be in the best shape of my life when I reach that number. I will accept the situation I have put myself into. I will own my mistakes and laziness and excuses. I will acknowledge the obstacles in my way and I will fight forward.

Will I make it? Will I give up when it gets hard or the goal seems farther away? Will you join me on my journey? It’s not like I am doing something new. Call it a mid-life crisis or desperate attempt to feel young again. That’s fine. I am not scared of fifty. I am just scared of giving up. This site is my accountability. My journal of a journey. My life.

Onward to fifty. And beyond.