Age is just a number. It's how many candles are on a cake. It's not you. It's not what defines you. How we treat the passage of years is up to us. I've learned to appreciate my decades and the experiences they've given me. I've decided to focus on growing rather than aging. Who's with me?
Like the changing of the seasons, during perimenopause and menopause, our bodies change too (and not always for the better). It's how we deal with those changes that determines how we are perceived by others.
Why have we made exercising -- at least the way we do it in the places that have come to be known as "health clubs" -- such an awful experience? If we're going to redefine success to include well-being, we also need to redefine getting in shape to include mental and soul fitness.
For me, health means strength. Health means trying each day to treat my body well. That kind of health goes beyond just diet and exercise. It comes in a variety of sizes. And if you don't carry that size in your store, I'm happy to take my money elsewhere.
Let's not dump too many intentions onto cleaning or onto exercise; it's just confusing. Keep them separate. Do these activities with separate intentions and let habits form. Creating good habits from things we enjoy is how we remain happy and healthy.
Whether the issue is working out at the gym or continuing a business practice, we're creatures of habit. And there's nothing wrong with habits -- they can keep us on track. The problem is when habits become "dead zones," void of mindfulness and awareness.
Every New Year all of us reflect upon our lives. We attempt to grow, learn and become inspired to improve ourselves. We begin the year with an ardency that could light monuments. Is this all reality? Or are we setting ourselves up repeatedly to fail?
I was one of those depressed, overweight, overstressed people who always had a reason why I wouldn't or couldn't run. The most pressing reason was that sneakers made my feet feel so hot that I couldn't bear to wear them. Ever.
There are moments in life when you feel the universe is telling you you have become a Fat Bastard. For me, the hint came when one of the staff at KFC pulled out a large Christmas card, signed by everybody who worked there.