Geez, time flies. Blink twice, and it’s another birthday.
In two years, I’ll be 60. I remember when 60 sounded old. Maybe it is, but I predict I won’t feel old. I’m 58 today, and I feel better than I did at 35. No arthritis in the shoulder, no psoriasis on the back of my head, no bouts of mild asthma, no gastric reflux, no belly aches, no restless legs or mysterious backaches at night.
I should probably send Morgan Spurlock a thank-you card. Super Size Me annoyed me, which inspired the idea for Fat Head, which led to me learning a lot more about diet and health than I’d ever planned to know. None of this — the film, the blog, the little farm in rural Tennessee, the upcoming book — was what I envisioned 20 years ago, which just proves the universe had better plans for my life than I did.
We had the family celebration on Saturday night. Tonight I’m just going to kick back and watch Monday Night Football and enjoy feeling alive and healthy and optimistic about the next 50 years.
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