Two hundred and fifty years ago, a group of people signed a declaration saying they wanted a say in what happened next.
That’s been on my mind today.
Because at 55, I had pretty much accepted somebody else’s version of what came next for me.
I had type 2 diabetes.
I was carrying 98 extra pounds.
My feet hurt. My knee hurt. My back hurt. My shoulder hurt.
Several surgeries were being discussed.
Nobody was doing anything wrong. My doctors were looking at the body sitting in front of them and trying to help.
But eventually I realized something.
They could help me. They couldn’t do my part for me.
So I started doing it.
I changed how I ate.
I started moving.
Eventually I found resistance stretching.
One thing led to another.
The weight came off. My diabetes went into remission. The surgeries being discussed never happened.
And nineteen years later, I’m teaching movement instead of wondering which part of me is going to break next.
That’s not a declaration of independence from doctors.
I’ve changed my thinking about that.
It’s a declaration of participation.
Your doctor can help you.
Your trainer can help you.
Your family can help you.
Peggy can help you.
I can help you.
But nobody can take your walk for you.
Nobody can make your food choices.
Nobody can move your body.
Nobody can decide you’re going to stay curious about what might still be possible.
Those pieces belong to you.
So enjoy the fireworks today.
Eat something good.
Laugh with somebody.
Go outside.
And maybe make one little declaration of your own:
This is my life. I’m going to participate in what happens next.
That’s enough revolution for one day. 🇺🇸