One of the things I’ve never understood is why people pussyfoot around with themselves or the things they buy.
A perfect example of this is buying a nice watch and only wearing it for nice occasions. Or the people that buy a Ferrari and keep it locked up and don't drive it.
I for the life of me don't understand this mentality at all. On my death bed, I'll never look back and think, "damn, owning that car, and looking at it was well worth it."
While I believe some things are works of art, like a vintage Bronco or a classic car, they should be appreciated both for aesthetic and for function. Those machines were purpose-built to RIP!!!!
I think of my body in the same way. Training and always playing it safe, or training just for the sake of training is lost on me. It feels just like making sure I'm changing oil, polishing paint, and detailing a car that has never been driven, or just parades around on a Sunday.
My machine is more like a beat-up, always being rebuilt desert race truck. This machine is built for a purpose. That purpose? Squeeze as much fun and incredible experiences out of it for as long as I possibly can.
I not only love building this machine; I love seeing what it's capable of.
It's like every training cycle and session is making a small upgrade to its abilities. Mobility is routine maintenance to make sure something little doesn't get out of hand. And when things do eventually break, you get to fixing it and go forward.
I like knowing the limits of my body. Since having injuries and changing direction from strength to more life and adventure purpose, it's been awesome stealing abilities back I thought were gone for good.
My point is this: Take care of your machine, but please get out and see what it does.
See what it's capable of in different avenues. Change directions and find new interests. Learn how your body adapts.
When I finally run out of time here, I don't plan on returning this machine with a full tank and good tires. I'll happily be the one with smoking brakes and some fire damage. Dented, scarred, and rebuilt to tell a tale of a life worth living.
You’re NOT DEAD YET.