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I realized something the other day: For the first time in my life, I feel completely satisfied with my physique.
At 31, I am fitter than I have ever been. Leaner. Stronger. With a BMI of roughly 18, I'm in the "low-normal" or "athlete" range for females (who, me?). I have a six-pack and obliques and (according to Ironman, who might be biased) a pretty nice butt.
But it isn't about looks, is it? It's about health. Longevity. Vitality. Ability.
I love being able to lift heavier and run faster than ever before -- not for numbers on a chart, though visual progress is satisfying, but because it's practical, here on the farm, to be able to lift ranch panels and buck hay and haul water.
I love being able to hike up a mountain, row down a river, camp in the wilderness, ride a horse 50 miles in a day.
I love feeling as though I have, for once, actually arrived.
Not that I'll stop striving. I'll still add weight, still try to make each hill sprint faster than the one before. All the same, it's high time I settled back a bit, mentally, so as to enjoy not just the doing, but the sense of having done.
Fitness is freedom, my friends. It ought to be earned -- and once earned, it ought to be enjoyed.
Seize the day.
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