Nadir

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Man, I've been feeling puny lately. Too much smoke and too much drink had apparently weakened me; that's all I can surmise. Then I caught a flu-like bug that raided each system that workaday illnesses can attack, starting in the gut, working into my sinuses and then through the throat, finally settling in my lungs, which feel coated with a layer of goo (probably because they are).

As fat and likely to thoughtlessly scarf junk food as I have always been, I've rarely had a problem with stamina. As little as my regular life demands of me, I've always been able to meet the challenge. Lately however, I've been panting for breath after only a few minutes' exertion, winded after what is even for a pudgy office-jockey a meager imposition. This must not stand.

The good news is that I have somehow managed to lose about 15 pounds in the last month or three, owing to a more careful examination of what slips into my shameless, vacuous maw. I am jealously vigilant of this recent development, being mindful of how difficult and near-magical the alchemy is that brought me to this improvement. While I am not impervious to temptation, I do make more room for resistance to the temptations of beer and sweets.

Even so, I have never felt so old, even as I acknowledge that each day I am literally older than I have ever been. Weakness and fatigue are not welcome in my shabby temple, even as I admit that I have taken it for granted for so long.

Let today be the low point, even as I hoist a few tributes to another tick on life's odometer. Let today be as shallow as my breath can be found to be. Let my energy reserves only climb from this point, my stamina increasing to new heights. Let my lazy, flabby ass find ways and pockets of time that I may put some lean, slow-twitch beef on this overly-marbled frame, and not be found so soft a target for life's challenges anon.