“Moderation in all things, especially moderation.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson
I inhaled nine timbits in three minutes yesterday.
For the non-Canadian, a timbit is the “hole” of the donut that come in all the donut flavours and can be found at Tim Horton’s, also known as Timmie’s, a popular Canadian coffee franchise. You normally find at least one 20-pack of them at all Canadian potluck events and picnics and of course due to Covid, there have been A LOT of opportunities to have them.
Four weeks ago, at 42 years old, I was in the best shape of my life. I was the strongest and most fit I had ever been. I could nasal-breathe through my hill running and my 100 12kg kettlebell snatches. I could do 5 full nose-to-ground push-ups and was 90% of a full chin-up.
In March, I committed to training six days a week and going for walks every day until l die.
Until I die.
Approaching the age of 42, I wanted to change my perspective of training: training for a high quality of life as I get older. To put it simply: to be able to get up off the toilet (or the sofa, or the hammock, etc.) without help. (Help includes those bars attached to the walls or an unwilling spouse, child, or grandchild.)
I didn’t know that an unexpected training benefit was to have a couple (or nine) timbits guilt-free. I felt pretty gross but only after the nostalgic bandaid wore off.
In previous decades, I would feel defeated. Now that I know I train for timbits, or at least the freedom to be moderate in my moderation as well as get up off the toilet, I will pick up that kettlebell today and swing knowing that this is a long game.
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