October Sweeps - Day 261

I talked to Big Anklevich today about his daily exercise and diet regimen . . . and he screwed up one day, forgetting to read from his non-fiction book (one of the prerequisites).  And that was it, all she wrote, fat lady starts in on her song.

To my shock, he just quit the whole seventy-five day marathon, despite having kept it up for a month or so.  I just plain didn't understand that, telling him that when I missed my push-ups on Friday or Saturday, I just did twice as many the next day, and I still consider myself on track.  But Big doesn't work that way.  He told me his wife said the same thing--"Just read two chapters in your To Serve Man book"--but he said he wouldn't do it, that you had to do all the things for seventy-five days straight or you couldn't consider yourself a success.  

He had to start back at zero, and now he's discouraged enough to take a few days binge eating and soiling himself beside the swimming pool before he even considers starting it up again.  That made me plenty sad.

But to each their own.  We've all heard the inspirational tales of people with great integrity that find money in the street, or the answers to next week's quiz, or a parking meter with half an hour left on it, or a passed-out Jessica Simpson in the guest room at a party, and they have the strength to say, "Nope, I'm just going to leave it there, because even if nobody else in the world would ever know what I'd done . . . I'd know."

Those were almost exactly the words Big used on the phone with me (except it was Josh Gad from FROZEN passed out at the party), and that's pretty impressive.  Because when I lived in L.A., I celebrated when I found a parking meter with time left on it.

But like Darkman said, "I'm learning to live with a lot of things."

The knowledge that my life is more than half over and I've accomplished practically nothing, that I'm going to die alone, and if I crashed my car I could never afford to replace it . . . well, those are daunting thoughts, middle of the night thoughts, depressing thoughts.  Yet I have to continue.  I have to keep writing and exercising, keep living my life with just a little hope, because otherwise, everything i2 Edvard Munch's The Scream again.*

Sit-ups Today: 111
Sit-ups In October: 3187

Push-ups Today: 72
Push-ups In October: 1210

Not much writing accomplished today, but every bit helps.  Also, I sat down and re-recorded Chapter 5 of "My Friend of Misery," and re-recorded the "Delusions of Grandeur" podcast I accidentally deleted last week.  It's not a tremendous amount, but it gives me stuff to edit on Wednesday.  And isn't that what every growing boy needs?

Words Today: 749
Words In October: 15,826

*Little bit of trivia for you.  Munch's "The Scream" is the most expensive painting ever to sell at Sotheby's auction.  It went for $120 million in 2012.  I dunno, seems pretty overpriced.  I wouldn't pay over thirty-five million for it myself.