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I wrote an introspective text today on facebook, and then decided to throw it on here as well as it might be a source of inspiration and/or thought even though it's probably preaching to the choir. Feel free to flame if it makes you feel better. (I used google translate and then corrected the awkward parts, so if something looks weird I probably just missed it):
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On regret:
Today a friend told me that he won't train hard after this year, because it is not healthy - he will now only work out to be healthy when he gets older. Today he works hard, but he simply thinks that it's gotten to be enough - he is strong enough. I respect this sentiment, health is an important goal and he displays maturity and foresight in his statement. But this is a small exposition about why I do not agree.
"Strong enough" is of course understood individually - strong enough for what? I'm strong enough to get the heavy stuff when a friend moves to a new place, but I am not strong enough to win even junior championships in powerlifting - if I could participate. Not everyone is competitive, not everyone feels that they have to be stronger than anyone else to feel good. And that doesn't only apply to strength - I think my great BJJ coaches (well, they aren't my coaches anymore but you get it) could care less about how strong they and myself are, but instead they must decide how far they want to go in their sport - this too is an individual goal which has to be balanced with families, jobs and lives.
I love rollercoasters, and I always have. When I was in Las Vegas I thought I would ride the rollercoaster on top of the Stratosphere, but I never got around to it - other things got in the way, I couldn't be bothered to go there since it's well off-strip and none of my travelling companions were interested so I would have to do it myself, etc... That I regret. At that point I prioritized other things, probably for good reasons, but in retrospect, those reasons are not good enough. I think mostly of the Stratosphere when I think of the trip to Las Vegas, even though it was a trip full of great moments and fantastic experiences. That's how my brain works, and I think many others' do too - I had time to go, there was nothing stopping me. Except myself. And that stings a bit.
When I was in my younger twenties I did a lot of stupid things - when I did anything at all. This situation is probably familiar to all who bother to read all of this, so we won't go over that again. But if I can feel this much regret now over seven lost years, now that I'm 28 - what will my regret be like when I'm 68? At that point I can't think back to the black belt I never took, never finishing my degree or the 200 kilograms I never lifted off the ground and think "I'll do it later". How does that regret feel? Nothing stopped me. Nothing.
I'll have sore knees - squats and leg locks will destroy them. I will have a broken nose and cauliflower ears. I will have a fucked back and pain in every joint. My friend will still be able to walk up stairs and bend down to tie his shoes, and won't have to stuff himself with painkillers to get up in the morning. But on his deathbed, he will not think of everything bad he did - he will think about everything he never got around to doing. And as an atheist I don't think he gets to do it all over.
Even at 28, regret is worse than pain. I think I'm far-sighted when I decide that it's going to have to be worth the pain.
----
On regret:
Today a friend told me that he won't train hard after this year, because it is not healthy - he will now only work out to be healthy when he gets older. Today he works hard, but he simply thinks that it's gotten to be enough - he is strong enough. I respect this sentiment, health is an important goal and he displays maturity and foresight in his statement. But this is a small exposition about why I do not agree.
"Strong enough" is of course understood individually - strong enough for what? I'm strong enough to get the heavy stuff when a friend moves to a new place, but I am not strong enough to win even junior championships in powerlifting - if I could participate. Not everyone is competitive, not everyone feels that they have to be stronger than anyone else to feel good. And that doesn't only apply to strength - I think my great BJJ coaches (well, they aren't my coaches anymore but you get it) could care less about how strong they and myself are, but instead they must decide how far they want to go in their sport - this too is an individual goal which has to be balanced with families, jobs and lives.
I love rollercoasters, and I always have. When I was in Las Vegas I thought I would ride the rollercoaster on top of the Stratosphere, but I never got around to it - other things got in the way, I couldn't be bothered to go there since it's well off-strip and none of my travelling companions were interested so I would have to do it myself, etc... That I regret. At that point I prioritized other things, probably for good reasons, but in retrospect, those reasons are not good enough. I think mostly of the Stratosphere when I think of the trip to Las Vegas, even though it was a trip full of great moments and fantastic experiences. That's how my brain works, and I think many others' do too - I had time to go, there was nothing stopping me. Except myself. And that stings a bit.
When I was in my younger twenties I did a lot of stupid things - when I did anything at all. This situation is probably familiar to all who bother to read all of this, so we won't go over that again. But if I can feel this much regret now over seven lost years, now that I'm 28 - what will my regret be like when I'm 68? At that point I can't think back to the black belt I never took, never finishing my degree or the 200 kilograms I never lifted off the ground and think "I'll do it later". How does that regret feel? Nothing stopped me. Nothing.
I'll have sore knees - squats and leg locks will destroy them. I will have a broken nose and cauliflower ears. I will have a fucked back and pain in every joint. My friend will still be able to walk up stairs and bend down to tie his shoes, and won't have to stuff himself with painkillers to get up in the morning. But on his deathbed, he will not think of everything bad he did - he will think about everything he never got around to doing. And as an atheist I don't think he gets to do it all over.
Even at 28, regret is worse than pain. I think I'm far-sighted when I decide that it's going to have to be worth the pain.
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