Today I sat down and started journaling my resolutions and thoughts going into 2018. I decided this year I’m going to not just list things I hope to accomplish, but to take all the major areas of my health (physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, and social), and journal my thoughts about each one to see where those journals lead me. The intent was to keep them all to myself.

But then I did the journaling for my “physical” health, and I just feel like I should share it with all of you, since so many of you may be in a similar place. When I journal, I just free-type, and don’t edit anything. I have no idea where it’s going to take me when I start, so take it as is. This was what I wrote…

2018 – January 1st, Thoughts, Goals, and Resolutions (Physical)

I’m at a strange place, physically. It’s the place of pondering whether or not I should give-up on the fight. That’s all my physical health and appearance has ever been, if I’m being honest… Just one big never-ending fight.

It’s a fight against my genetics which obviously have me pegged right around my current size and build.

It’s a fight against my own inner-demons of feeling ugly and fat no matter how in-shape or skinny I might be.

It’s a fight against my inner-beliefs that no attractive woman will find me attractive if I’m carrying around 20 or 30 extra pounds.

It’s a fight against the weird beauty norm that exists here in Utah, where everyone just seems so pretty.

It’s a fight against time, with my body aging, my metabolism slowing, and my stamina waning.

It’s goal time. It’s resolutions time. What do I want this year? Do I want to fight like I always do? Or do I want to throw in the towel, declare myself finally old enough to stop caring, and admit that I am exactly as nature intended me to be.

The fight is getting so tiring. I’m depleted from fighting it. I got off my Adderall and almost immediately gained 20 LBS. I knew it would happen. I expected it to happen. It’s why I kept taking it for as long as I did. Eventually, the cons of taking that awful drug had to outweigh the pros, and I had to decide that being a bit chubbier was worth having my mind and happiness back.

But it just made the fight all that harder. I have no big-pharma in my corner, making my heart race faster for me. If I want that, I’ll have to go to the gym, go outside, get down on my hands and knees, or just do anything that’ll make my heart go faster… Naturally.

Ugh. That’s the fight. I am so happy being off all that bullshit. My anxiety is gone. My depression is rare and shallow. I am sleeping again. I have no desire to put another stupid pill into my body to make my heart pump faster, easier.

So I guess it’s time to decide if I want to keep fighting.

Do I actually want to work my ass off to lose 20 or 30 LBS, knowing that eventually nature will make sure that it all comes back?

Do I actually want to devote my precious time every single day to making myself hurt in the name of bigger muscles and a stronger core, when I know time will eventually make me too busy to maintain it?

Do I actually want to be hungry more often than not, as I put my body into a calorie deficit, when I could be enjoying desserts or alcohol or other fantastic things with dates or friends?

Do I actually want the results that come from devoting so much of my life and energy to attaining them?

That’s a good question.

Am I at the point where I should just give up the fight and simply… Be?

To be, or not to be.

That is what my soul is currently asking.

If I work hard, I will lose it. Eventually. If I dedicate myself, I will return to where I am. At some point. Life is just so. I have no delusions of eternal commitment to my fitness. The only question I have to ask is… Right now… In 2018… Do I want to keep fighting the fight?

And if I say yes, will I actually do it?

Let me think about that honestly and then answer…


I do.

And I will.

I don’t know why I do, but I do. I don’t know why I will, but I will.

It’s not time to hand the reigns over to nature. Not yet. It’s not time to retreat or fade.

I have four friends who I’ve agreed to do a Tough Mudder with in March. I’ll have two months to kick my ass into high gear and get ready for it. I have two months to fight this fight.

In April, another friend has invited me to have myself prepped and ready for his “Executive Fight Night,” where I’ll train hard for nine weeks and put myself into the boxing ring with another business nerd around my age who also has no idea what he’s doing.


I must fight.

I must continue to fight so that I can be bruised and covered in mud.

I must continue to fight so that I can… Fight.

I know how it feels to cross that Mudder finish line.

I know how it feels to work hard and do something I’m scared to do.

I know how it feels to be in shape, and to be able to run, and more than anything to know that… Dammit. There is still fight left in me.

Maybe there won’t fight left in me in 2019. But in 2018 there is fight left. I know there is.

So fight I will.

No white flag for me yet.