In my twenties, for one of my jobs, I traveled.

It was a good gig. Fly out on Monday mornings, back on Thursday nights, and get paid for the entire week.

Plus expenses covered, including meals.

The drawback?

I got fat.

Along with millions of other road warriors, I had the excuse.

"I mean, you know how it is when you're on the road. No choice - gotta deal with eating out."

Armed with that excuse, I ate hotel pancakes for breakfast, cheeseburgers for lunch, and whatever I wanted for supper (with plenty of "free" beer to wash it down).

That was the excuse.

The reality is that it's reasonably easy to eat right on the go. Hell, you can come up with a decent meal in Quick Trip or Sheetz. Yesterday, just a mile's walk from my hotel, I picked up good, whole food to grub on here in the room for half the price of eating out.

I could have done that in my twenties, too.

But, back then, it was easier to make the excuse.

Man, we sure do like our excuses.

It's like we're wired to make excuses instead of dealing shit.

"I would, but. . . "

"Well, I can't because. . ."

"You're lucky because you can. . ."

Blah, blah, blah.

We love to make those excuses. Meanwhile, our lives slip by, and we don't accomplish what we want to do or become the people we want to be.

And I know right where that path leads.

I've walked it.

"I always wanted to. . ."

"I wish I had. . ."

"It would have been nice if. . ."

Should have, could have, but didn't.

I can say all those things about my 20's and 30's.

But no more.

Enough is enough.

I have no more interest in being old, fat, and out of shape and wishing I'd taken better care of my body than I do in being old, regretful, and wishing I'd lived life on my terms instead of someone else's.

Screw that.

I want to look back on my 40's, 50's, 60's, 70's, and beyond and say, "Man, I'm glad I did. . ."