Never too young; never too old

Over the past couple of months, I've written several blogs--in my head. A tough work schedule, family priorities, and a new puppy have all gotten in the way of posting them. I promise, they were brilliant.

Today, unexpected news awakened me from my blog slumber.

Back in January, when my daughter and I scouted the new LA Fitness across the street to see if it would be a good fit for us, we were cheerily greeted at the front desk by Art, the gym's beautiful, well-built manager. I knew immediately he was meant to be the cheese to this overweight mouse.

Didn't matter. I totally took the bait. He was warm and funny with just one flaw; he was a massive Ravens fan. Seriously? I was about to dismiss him for poor judgement, but Art's charm bridged the gap between a stolen Cleveland Browns supporter and a Steel Curtain devotee.

I'm sure we were two of a dozen new members he lured in that day, but looking back, I realize that his positive, supportive attitude set me on a whole new life path. In the past six months, I've dropped three sizes, run my first 5K and signed up for another, and become a Zumba disciple. I weigh less than I have in at least 15 years, and I feel confident and strong.

While I have kept up my workout routine, even during the busiest weeks, my attitude has taken a steady decline. I have to give myself a 15 minute pep talk and drag my butt to the car for class or training. Today, for the first time in a while, I looked forward to a great Zumba workout, and I even arrived early for the session. I walked up to the desk and handed them my key card. While I waited, I noticed a flier advertising a wake. Assuming it was for a fellow member, I checked the name.

Art Gamble.

What? I looked again, assuming that there must be another person with that name associated with the gym. I quickly checked the obituary on my phone, and there it was. That beautiful face. That warm, wonderful soul. Arthur Gamble, IV, was 29 years old. He unexpectedly passed away on Father's Day, leaving behind a loving family, including a son.

I continued, stunned, into the dance studio. Frank, our instructor, began the session with a simple message--live every day to its fullest. I spent the hour dancing as fiercely as I ever have. I felt so sad for Art's family and so grateful that he helped me on the path to a long, healthy life of my own.

This journey we're on comes with no guarantees. You are never too young to start embracing every day as if it's your last. And you are never too old to change your life for the better.

And no matter what your age, never stop dancing.