Time is relentless, unstoppable, and unforgiving—take control before it slips away and leaves you wondering where your life went.
Time is the one thing we can’t outrun. No matter how fast, strong, or disciplined we are, it keeps moving, relentless and unforgiving. And I’ll admit it—time scares the hell out of me. Not much does, but getting older? That hits different. It’s not the gray hairs, the wrinkles, or even the idea of “golden years.” My fear cuts deeper than that. It’s about the time I’ve already lost, the years I threw away in addiction, and even the ones I spent rebuilding my life, clawing my way out of the pit. Those years are gone, and they’re never coming back. That’s a truth I can’t ignore, and some days, it feels like the clock is mocking me.
I’m 48. To some, that’s young. To others, it’s old. To me? It’s a damn reminder that time isn’t infinite. It’s a fire under my ass that pushes me harder, faster, stronger, every single day. I’ve wasted enough time for one lifetime, and I refuse to let the clock steal another second from me. Every morning, I wake up, and the battle begins. I don’t waste time—not one minute, not one second.
I hit the ground running. Sometimes literally. Whether I’m running, biking, lifting, or virtual boxing, I move my body every single day. It’s not negotiable. It’s not about vanity or chasing some image. It’s about proving to myself that I’m alive. Every rep, every mile, every punch is a rebellion against the years I wasted. It’s my way of screaming, “I’m still here, and I’m not done yet.”
But it’s not just the physical. I push my mind just as hard. Every day, I make it a point to learn something new. It doesn’t matter if it’s a random fact or a skill that takes years to master. Learning is how I fight back against time. It’s my way of saying, “You don’t own me.” Because every new piece of knowledge I gain is proof that I’m still growing.
You’re only out of time when you decide you are. That’s where most people get it wrong. They let time bully them into complacency. They tell themselves they’re too old to start something new, to chase a dream, or to change their life. That’s garbage. Comfort is the enemy of progress. It’s a lie we tell ourselves when we’re too scared to face the truth. And the truth is this: the clock is ticking, but you’re still in the fight.
For me, it’s not enough to just live. I need to leave a mark. I have this fire inside me, and I need to give back and serve others. It’s not just about running, strength training, or being my best self. It’s about making damn sure that when my time is up, I’ve done something that matters—something real—something that helps someone else. That’s why I feel this urgency, like the clock is breathing down my neck. It’s not just my life I’m fighting for—it’s my legacy.
Aging has a way of forcing you to confront every mistake, every failure, and every second you wasted. It’s brutal, like looking in a mirror that doesn’t let you hide. But those scars? Those wrinkles? They’re mine, and I’ve earned every damn one of them. Yeah, some of those stories hurt. Some of them are about failure, pain, and wasted years. But others? They’re about triumph, rebuilding, and clawing my way out of the darkness.
I’m not the man I was at 28 or even 38. Back then, I was lost. Addiction had me by the throat, and I was letting time slip through my fingers, convinced there’d always be more of it. But there wasn’t. There never is. The day I decided to get sober was the day I started fighting back. That was the day I stopped letting time win.
Now, every day is a battle against complacency. Because here’s the thing—it’s easy to coast. It’s easy to tell yourself you’ve done enough. But that’s the biggest lie of all. You haven’t done enough. None of us have. There’s always more to give, more to do, more to be. Comfort is the enemy, and I don’t have time for it. I refuse to look back one day and realize I let time win.
So I push. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. I push because I know what it feels like to waste time, and I’ll be damned if I let that happen again. Giving back isn’t just about others—it’s about me, too. It’s about making sure that when my clock finally runs out, I can look back and say, “I didn’t waste a second.”
And yeah, the fear is still there. It’s always there, whispering in the back of my mind, reminding me that I’m not invincible. But you know what? Fear is fuel. It keeps me sharp. It keeps me hungry. It’s a reminder that time is precious and that I don’t have a second to waste. Fear doesn’t paralyze me—it drives me.
I’ve got goals that terrify me, dreams that feel too big, and a fire in my gut that won’t let me stop. I don’t know how much time I have left. None of us do. But that’s the point. It’s not about how much time you have—it’s about what you do with it. And I’ll be damned if I waste another second.
So if you’re reading this and you feel that fear, that urgency, good. Let it wake you up. Let it drive you because it’s not too late. It’s never too late. You’ve got time right now, in this moment. What you do with it is up to you. But don’t waste it. Don’t let comfort win. Don’t let fear hold you back.
Time is relentless, but it doesn’t have to own you. I’m 48, and I’m still in the fight. The clock is ticking, but I’m not done yet. And when my time does finally run out, I’ll go out swinging, knowing I gave it everything I had. No regrets. No wasted seconds. Just a life lived fully, on my terms, with discipline, purpose, resilience, and a hell of a lot of fight. That’s my legacy. What will yours be?
Stay disciplined. Stay resilient.
Jim Lunsford
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