My body is a temple — one that occasionally participates in human sacrifice.

Ok, that reads a lot different than it sounded in my head, but hear me out.

The first part of that statement is fairly straightforward. I take pretty good care of my health. I run, go to the gym, and eat relatively healthy most of the time. By no means am I a health nut, but I like to take care of myself.

Human sacrifice, though?

I strongly believe in balance and the idea that even moderation should be moderated.

Occasionally, I sacrifice healthy decisions for experience. For example, the trip to San Francisco last weekend.

I could have easily sipped sparkling water and eaten quinoa salad topped with avocado the entire time — it’s California, of course.

But I didn’t

I indulged in whatever I felt like in the moment.

I consumed incredible quantities of fine wine, craft beer and a few over-priced cocktails. Also on the menu were fast food, tacos, dumplings, dim sum, several phenomenal sandwiches, and literal piles of seafood swimming in butter.

It wasn’t healthy. Not by a long shot. But the experience couldn’t be beaten.

That’s the sacrifice.

And that’s why I torture myself by running, spending time in the gym, and stubbornly fighting the urge to dive into that box of doughnuts at work.