Sometimes I think about getting in the best shape of my entire life. Like, the BEST shape of my ENTIRE life, even though this makes no sense given the reality of my actual life as forty year old with three kids, a full-time job, and a frozen shoulder.
Nevertheless, I think about it. I mean, I could still break my high school 400-meter record, right? Maybe I could compete in a Tough Mudder, tackle a Spartan race, or I don't know, become the next American Ninja Warrior. During these fitness daydreams, I might even hum the Olympic theme song under my breath and speculate about my body-fat-to-muscle ratio.
Then, without fail, another thought surfaces almost immediately, a thought that goes something like this:
I'd really like some ice cream.
And that's all I have to say about this.
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