"He Died Doing What He Loved"

John Denver died while flying a plane--something he loved doing. A film maker and a photographer recently died in Libya. Jim Fixx, famous author and fitness junkie, died of a heart attack shortly after jogging. John F. Kennedy Jr. crashed his plane into the ocean some years back, and took his wife and a couple other people with him.

I find it interesting that after the initial shock of losing someone they kind of knew, most people will say their version of, “At least he died doing what he loved.” As if that makes death somehow better. Some ways are better to go than others, I grant you, but dead is dead, and I’m sure that Mrs. Fixx wasn’t very comforted by the method of her husband’s demise.

But if it is true that it’s better to die as a result of doing what you love, why is it noble to die racing a car and so pathetic to die as a result of a life spent overeating and lounging about? I’m half-serious about this, so I’ll make an argument, using names to represent each side.

Steve: Dying while doing something you love is one thing: you’re doing something. Whether you love to hike or run or fly kites, at least you’re actively pursuing something you enjoy. Yes, you could get hurt and accidents happen, but doing nothing with your life is just sad. Stuffing your face while you wait for the sweet release of death is sad.

Bob: Some people love to run, some love to walk, some like to read books, some really enjoy eating. They’re all fulfilling in their own way, and they all bring genuine joy. What’s the difference? Yes, a sedentary lifestyle is hazardous, as is mountain-climbing, but no one mocks those people.

Steve: That’s because mountain-climbing is active, it’s invigorating. Sitting on yer ass while it spreads is the white flag of surrender. You’ve clearly given up.

Bob: What about my weight offends you so much? Why is it considered so awful to enjoy food, to take comfort in it? I’m not hurting anyone but myself.

Steve: If you have no respect for your wellbeing and make such lousy choices, why on earth would I respect you? And for your information, you are hurting me. Every time I'm forced to sit by someone like you on an airplane or pay an inflated insurance premium, I blame you and your kind. You act like enjoying food and being fat are inextricably tied, as though it wasn’t possible to love the act of eating without doing it to excess, and to the exclusion of physical activity. You don’t see a problem with that?

Bob: It wasn’t my choice to not enjoy hiking, I just don’t. Some people get an endorphin high from things like that, and some don’t. I don’t. You know what gives me that high? Chocolate. We all do what we enjoy, for better or worse, but society has decided for all of us which of those things are acceptable and which ones should be derided. You would love nothing more than for me to feel shame and to hate who I am, but it’s not going to work.

And as for your insurance premiums, you don’t think people who get hurt biking are skewing the rates? Sports nuts with bad knees? Why don’t you go after them?

Steve: You can act as indignant as you want, but at the end of the day, the things you say you enjoy will be the death of you. And in that way they’re no different from drugs or alcohol. Is abusing those okay too? Are those noble addictions?

Bob: No, and I agree that I have an addiction, but at the end of a long day you have no idea what it’s like to want nothing more than food. When nothing else will help you feel normal again, what would you have me do?

Steve: Get help. Stop the cycle. Get moving and don’t stop.

Bob: It’s not that easy. You don’t know what it’s like. You just don’t know the grip it has. And unlike an alcoholic or drug abuser, it’s not like I can just stop. What you’re asking of me is to use less heroin. I can do it for a while, but then . . .

Steve: Yeah, but no matter how hard it is, when it catches up with you, it’ll be too late and then you’ll wish you’d forced yourself to have just a little. And you can tell yourself all you want that food makes you happy, and that it’s your life to live the way you want, and that this is every bit as fulfilling as pursuing an active passion, but it’s a lie. Food is the delicious poison is slowly killing you.

Bob: Yeah, so is everything. You, Mr. Perfect, could be diagnosed with stage-IV cancer tomorrow.

Steve: Any of us could die at any moment, blah, blah, blah. That's a red herring and  you know it. But you know that there are some things within your control right now, and you're forfeiting them. You're choosing to add risk and diminish the quality of your life. Are you okay with that?


Well, that didn’t turn out exactly like I thought it would, but the reality is that there is no way to win an argument built on a hot fudge sundae.

-Doug