I suppose the gym thing is an advantage when things are really bad, but you feel you have to somehow force yourself to do that one 'beneficial' thing, even if you're treadmilling with tears in your eyes.(God knows,I've seen stranger things in that place-)
I don't seem to be in a position to do anything else 'positive', so I might as well try to keep my decrepit body from deteriorting any more rapidly, I s'poze.
There's yet another messianic 'health' show on TV. In this one, an inscrutable Doctor Dragon Lady puts the guzzling sinners through the full whack of medical tests, and informs them of their reduced life expectancy. The shambolic two-bottles-a-night swiller blurted determinedly. 'No way I'm dyin' at 59!', hit the gym, cut the fags and wine, gargled the carrot smoothies, and had a tummy-tuck. All very nice, I'm sure, but leading a healthy lifestyle really doesn't always mean you won't die, maybe, before you get old.