You're No Good To Anyone Dead

Yes, your fitness and nutrition can’t fix everything. You can do everything right, and still get cancer or Alzheimer’s or crabs but why not give yourself a fighting fucking chance. Sure, you could have a fatalistic view on it and say fuck it, we‘ll all be underground someday. I'm choosing the opposite. Use it as fuel. I think the old CrossFit sickness, wellness, fitness continuum holds true. The idea is that if you get ridiculously fit and healthy, if you get sick, you’ll have to travel down through regular health before you get to sickness. I’m not the biggest fan of Crossfit as a training modality anymore but that part holds up. Think about the majority of older people. If your grandmother needs help to get off the couch, that means her max squat is less than body weight. Not weight on a barbell, she’s too weak just to squat her own body. Her independence will be taken away so much earlier than it has to for fear of falls and accidents. Falls are the leading cause of injury related death in people over 65. You obviously can’t guarantee that accidents won’t happen just because you lift weights but it’s so easy to reduce the risk, it hurts. Every single study ever done on the subject, literally every one, shows that exercise decreases all cause mortality. The same studies show that you can improve strength and fitness at any age. You can literally start right now, wherever you are in life, and improve your health through exercise and more specifically, strength training. You’re no good to anyone dead. Your friends and family want you around for the long haul. I don’t want to go all Dylan Thomas Rage cliche on you (Google it) but if that’s what it takes...Whatever gets you off the couch, use it. If you’re on the site you can see my “comfort is a slow death” banner hanging in the gym. I like it as a mantra but it’s not hyperbole. If you don’t want to be in shambles when you're older, you have to find something that moves you physically and mentally. Start where you are, do what you can, and fuck Father Time. I know I’ll stop lifting when they pry the barbell from my cold, jacked, callused hands. ​