Ditto. I've noticed the same thing. I've never been on meds for depression (just figured it was just a funk most people go through), but have noticed my natural cynicism has been tamped way down since I began training. It does make a case for the human evolution as an animal that needs to be challenged and tested, and when not, symptoms of that lack of stimulus arise as not only physical maladies (obesity, diabetes, hypertension) but mental ones as well. Kind of like a horse left alone too long in the barn, pacing back and forth at the stall door; bored, atrophied and slowing going insane.
Bill, thank you for the compliment, it's much appreciated!
Didn't see the movie, but I'm guessing Leonidas faced swift death.
Fear is recalling someone you loved with sundowners syndrome trying to escape the alzheimers ward, knowing they lived 10 more years but really didn't know it; looking for and employing all possible ways to avoid a similar fate.
Sorry to burst your bluster, but fear has its place in men, and it's a powerful motivator.
Dying fast is to die for!
Sorry.
I'm not going to say you're wrong... because you're not.
I didn't even say that Leonidas wasn't afraid... merely that I would not characterize it that way.
You get to choose how you characterize reality, and, for me, roaring in the face of death, facing certain failure, is heroic.
Your position is not only more rational (aka less delusional) but appears to be working for you. (so why change?)
Some people... like myself... need a little extra something. How many people do we know who "know they should do the program"... but don't.
All I can say is that I no longer "feel afraid", and this has given me the motivation I need.
I offer an option. Not a judgement. In this matter, I am not so concerned that your beliefs are "right", I am concerned that they are effective.
Everyone does not need the same thing. Choose the option that works for you.
No need to worry about bursting my bluster.... The delusion runs strong in me. Some times logic is not enough.
Last edited by Cheesepuff; 05-23-2017 at 10:40 PM. Reason: needed picture
There's a fine line between fear and rage. I find rage works better than fear to accomplish the elderly goals of this community. Whatever works.
I read the following poem for myself...not for my loved ones fighting illness nor those who have passed.
Do not go gentle into that good night
Don't go out with a whimper but a bang is the Eliot sentiment that has motivated me. I don't really care if someone thinks an old man is goofy for getting strong. I plan to bang into death.
On that note I'm going to tell me boys when on my death bed, if I should have the chance."Now it's your turn to fend for yourselves. Best wishes."
Better poem:
Ulysses
Lord Alfred Tennyson, 1809 - 1892
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea. I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known—cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honored of them all,—
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untraveled world whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains; but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the scepter and the isle,
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labor, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail;
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me,
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.
Death closes all; but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.