I've accomplished all these crazy things I would have once thought impossible. Lost 55 pounds, became an athlete, ran the Boston Marathon, became actually interested in my life, hung out with super awesome people, found purpose. My life has been one of those tacky inspirational photos with words pasted on it on Instagram. I'm done with it all. It's time to accept it as the norm and either coast along, regress or find new challenges.
Whatever ultimately happens I'm happy with the journey. I accept myself so much more now that I've learned concretely that I'm in control of my destiny. Fate is a sham, one you're sold by people trying to get you to live quietly. No you can't control everything, but you can die trying. And why not, what is worse than just simply existing with your burger, beer and all night "Netflix and Chill?"
Today I'm contemplating a new exciting project for this site, kind of a vegan version of "Super Size Me." I'm also nursing a severely messed up foot that I've been impatient to let heal. Ego got the best of me. But I'm confident knowing that there is little that can stop me from relentless stubborn progress. The sort of progress you think may be impossible. You know, the kind that says you can't lose that weight, can't become a runner, can't eat better, can't spend more time living and less time working.
And so it's perfect timing. The plan is to regress on purpose for the next month or so, then to kick ass and return to form. To show myself and whoever might stumble upon this website that it can be done, can be done repeatedly and just requires the desire.