I’ve been sick forever, and it’s possible that this is my new normal. I’ll always have a cough, always be tight, always short of breath, always blowing my nose 900 times a day. I have no idea how my body produces the gallons and gallons of mucous, where it comes from or where it’s stored. I bet I’m so constantly exhausted because this amazing contraption that usually keeps me moving easily throughout the day is overwhelmed by the demands of manufacturing this excess. And now I’ve had it, I’m angry and I’m frustrated, and know that I’ll be sick for the rest of my life.

These symptoms came last week. For 3 days, I had less than 1,000 steps each day, while wake and sleep looked totally alike. The couch has my body’s outline on the cushions. Netflix and I are best friends.

Yes, last week. I’ve been sick for just over a week. I returned to the gym days ago, didn’t miss work Sunday morning, and am no longer cancelling any appointments or responsibilities. I am recovering, just too slowly, and this judgment is what has convinced me that I’m now a sickly shell of the robust, energetic, enthusiastic, passionate ball of sunshine I used to be.

What makes me think I’m recovering too slowly? What makes me the great arbiter of health timelines? If you were sick or injured, I’d probably tell you about the benefits of rest and perspective. I’d also use the phrase, “it’s a long game.” These things don’t apply to me, and I now understand why you want to punch me in the belly when I say those things. I’d punch me, too. Who cares if they’re right??

I’d also certainly drop the P-word, patience.

From time to time, I suffer with injuries in the gym. And I do suffer. I don’t rest or take days off. I work through them. I don’t have time to stop. Don’t ask me why. Don’t ask me what I’m training for that I can’t pause a workout. I don’t have an answer for that.

What makes me so impatient? What makes us all so impatient?

In most areas of my life, I am a very patient man. Not here. Not now. Who’s fault is this? What is to blame? The internet? Sure. My phone? This iPad? The microwave? All of those things have redefined time. We don’t really rest well, always kneeling at the altar of productivity. But is that a new, modern characteristic? I would guess not. The march has been in the direction of easier and more convenient, as long as humans have walked upright.

Neither is my selfish predisposition. Illness is not for me. I decide. I say what should be. That’s not new or particularly special.

Anyway. Now what? As the brilliant philosopher Axl Rose says, “It’ll work itself out fine…And we’ll come together fine. All we need is just a little patience.” I’ve trusted him before, so I guess I will here, too.