You’re Going to Die: A Running Rant on Mortality, Time, and Truth

Let’s start with the truth.

You’re going to die. And the more you resist that, the more time you waste pretending otherwise.

Maybe you already “know” it. But knowing something and living like you know it are two very different things.

23 Christmases Left

At the time of this rant, I’m 57.
If I make it to 80, I’ve got 23 years left.

That’s 23 birthdays. 23 Christmases. 23 chances to sit across from people I care about and not take the moment for granted.

Now you do your life-math.
Grab a grid. Box out 80 squares.
Black out the years you’ve already lived.
Whatever’s left – that’s your life, give or take some tragic blimp accident, being nibbled to death by an okapi or lucky genes.

Spend one of those years trapped at a family dinner you hate out of guilt? That’s one less in the bank.
Let a job steal five? You’re bleeding time.

That’s how death wins – slowly, quietly, while you’re pretending you’ve got forever.

Regrets? Not My Thing

This isn’t a rant about fear. It’s a reminder that you don’t have time to waste playing someone else’s version of life.

I’ve moved houses. I’ve had relationships that didn’t work out. I’ve made mistakes.
But I wouldn’t undo a thing, because all of it made me *this* version of me.

Happy. Focused. Brutally aware of what I care about.

If you’re younger, you’ve got more squares left.
But you’ve also got more distractions. More traps.
More people trying to sell you an identity that has nothing to do with who you really are.

Performative Compassion Is Bullshit

Here’s something that’ll piss off the internet:
I don’t give a damn about most world events.

Not because I’m cold. Because I’m honest.
If I can’t do anything about it – if I’m not willing to take action – then pretending to care is just dopamine theater.

Crying on TikTok about something that doesn’t affect you?
Posting a flag emoji? That’s not empathy. That’s attention-seeking in disguise.

Care about what you can affect.
Start in your own home.
Your own mind.
Your own damn schedule.

You’re Not Ready for Death. But It’s Ready for You.

You won’t know when it’s coming.
Neither will the people you love.

A few years ago, my dad was in hospital. His legs were swollen. His health was on the ropes. We thought he might be on the way out.

He wasn’t.
My mum was.

Seemingly fine, complaining about a sore shoulder from lifting a hanging basket.
Four days later: dead.
A clot. A moment. Gone.

She wasn’t even the one we were worried about.

That’s how death works.
It doesn’t send a warning. It just shows up.

Get Selfish With Your Time

This is where grit gets real.

You want to be fitter? Stronger? Clearer?
You’ll have to be selfish.
Not rude. Not arrogant. Just *clear* about what you give your hours to.

You’ll piss some people off.
They’ll say you’re obsessed, distant, difficult.
Let them.
You’ll get to the end of your life knowing you lived *your* story — not one you borrowed.

Build an Identity That Survives the Fall

Some people hitch their whole identity to a job, a title, a relationship, a movement, a child, a brand.
When that thing disappears – and it will – they’re left with nothing.

You need a backpack.
A metaphorical one.

Stuff it with the essentials:
Your character.
Your values.
Your physical strength.
Your purpose.
Your ability to adapt.

So when you fall off the wagon – and you will – you’ve got something left to carry forward.

Who Are You Without the Brand?

A few years ago, people called me the “King of the Mud.”
I’ve been called many things, but I did a lot of Tough Mudders and ended up relatively well-known. “Legend” this, race that. Fine. It was a good ride.

But I never got the tattoo. Never made it my identity.
Because I’ve seen too many people become shadows of themselves when the event ends, the tribe moves on, the brand changes direction.

I enjoyed the ride.
But I’ve got my own wagon now.
Smaller. Quieter. Mine.

One Last Thing Before You Die

You want to help others?
Start by putting your own oxygen mask on first.
That old airline metaphor isn’t just good safety advice. It’s how you survive life without becoming someone else’s burnt-out saviour.

Fix your health.
Fix your discipline.
Fix your schedule.
Then show up for others.

Otherwise, all you’re giving them is the worst version of you.
And that helps no one.