Are our lives made up of a finite amount of time?
As I work the night shift and my days become 20-21 hour affairs, I wonder if maybe I’m wearing down my total and it only means I die sooner.
Or, like exercising, do I build on that count and extend, or at least extend the healthy, active part of it.
Is it finite for each person? Or does it change?
The funny thing is that we’ll never know so I can have any opinion I desire.
I think our time is a combination of “use it or lose it” and “Add on value available.”
I know each body, like most mechanical things has a wear factor. Little variations can cause long term wear patterns, or be so built that practically no wear occurs. Like a car engine.
Why do some cars go seemingly forever, some with maintenance and some without? The engine just keep racking up the miles. Yet others, well maintained, crap out early in their life?
It’s called luck of the draw. Good luck vs. bad luck. God’s smile or God’s apathy.
I figure the more I do, the more I make my body do, the more I care for it; I believe the longer it’ll keep running. Better than if I just let it sit in the garage and wait out the years to save miles.
Somethings will break. Sure. But watch the oil, water and tire pressures and I think the seals will stay fresh and the parts all greased. In the end, I hoping to see more countryside.
Saving the miles lacks the scenery. It gives no promise for longevity. Plastics harden and engines dry out. There may not be any road scares, but if you wait too long, starting the car can be a challenge and sometimes impossible.
I’m living an extra 5-6 hours a day. It makes the days long and they stretch out into long weeks. I’m happy. I feel productive. I feel like I’m taking charge of things of which I need.
Don’t tell me I need more sleep. I ain’t got time for that.