Talking to my bank manager about heart attacks

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The awful truth about fitness is that it takes ages to build up and a moment to collapse - at least that's how it feels. It's not something you can store, like - say - fat. If ever you needed proof that this life is really Hell, there you have it. 

 I got the image above from my GPS watch this morning just after I spent an hour talking on the phone to my bank manager about what could misleadingly be referred to as my financial planning. The cheery message from the software was welcome after the phone conversation had covered my need to extend my life insurance cover because, in a nutshell, I could drop dead any day now, according to the actuaries. That wasn't exactly how it was put to me but that's what I read between the lines. 

 I don't consciously think that running will extend my life - extend it from what to what, for a start? Thing is, when I look at that number above - 57 - all I can really think is how close I am to reaching that age. The fact that it is an exceptionally high VO2Max is not that important to me, mainly because it's a watch software creation and not scientifically accurate. What is scientifically accurate is that I've been around for five decades and it's a fact there is less time ahead of me than there is behind me. I'm not going to make a habit of talking to my bank manager. Nothing personal but I guess he's in his late 20s and I can't deal with his youth, much less his message. 





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