It's really cliché at this point. People who've had heart attacks or cancer diagnoses say that despite the tragic events, "it was the best thing to happen to me." The reminder of our mortality helps us appreciate life while we still have it, encourages us to take better care of our health and our bodies, and reminds us of how precious our loved ones are.
I'm going to be honest with you - getting an email message saying I'm prediabetic was neither the greatest nor the worst day of my life. Overall, it was just another day. But the diagnosis has made me aware of my diet in ways I wasn't before, and rather than merely recognizing "I probably shouldn't be eating so much of this," I have a fresh, new encouragement to eat something else. And exercise is now more than just an obligation or something to do when I run out of other distractions. And eating better and exercising more is already making me feel better overall, physically and mentally.
This coming weekend is going to be a challenge. It's Big Ears festival this weekend and while I'll probably get my miles and steps in, eating is catch-and-catch-can. My hope is that the past few days I've started on some healthier habits and once I return, I'll naturally revert to more wholesome ways. After all, I've been eating pizza and barbecue for some seven decades now without dying, I should be able to go one more weekend without keeling over.
I walked 3.8 miles today, but so far have only logged 9,839 steps, short of the 10,000-step goal. I'm hoping to make up the difference later today shuffling back and forth from the computer to the kitchen, and from the sofa to the bathroom.
But it's not all about me. I sent the Moms some flowers today at the rehab center and hope the cheer and good wishes they represent make her a little bit less ornery with her nursing staff.
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