Everytime I get sick, or hurt myself — which fortunately isn’t that often for either — I end up reminding myself to be grateful for my generally good health when I’m feeling better.
Then, of course, I completely forget as the fog or pain or whatever lifts and I go on living my life.
I’m not sick. I haven’t hurt myself. It’s time.
I’m probably in the best shape of my adult life. Not that that’s saying much — I’m no athlete, body builder, or health nut — it’s just that compared the to the prior 50+ years, the changes I made a few years ago have had an impact.
Not long after I turned 50 I started having random health issues. All unrelated to one-another, and not terribly serious, they were just … well … random. I joked that the warranty ran out at 50 and now the wheels were starting to fall off.
Fortunately the last couple of years I don’t feel that way at all.
In fact, what sparked this little moment of clarity and gratitude was realizing that a large number of people my age don’t feel as good as I do. There’s a wide variety of issues that others deal with on a daily basis — most considered quite typical for this age — that I’ve apparently avoided so far.
I’m sure my turn will come, but until it does I’m reminded to be grateful for where I’m at.
Honestly, it’s not like this was overly intentional. Yes, I lost some weight and changed my diet somewhat, but certainly nothing truly drastic. And certainly my lifestyle — computer geek and desk jockey — doesn’t lend itself to excellent physical conditioning.
If anything, I guess, this is really just another variation of being grateful for my genes.
But now, while I’m not under the weather, it’s good to pay attention and not mindlessly take it all for granted.