Maybe a better perspective is when you ARE the person you want to be, why visit the unwon battles of the last millennium that have no effect on the remains of the day. Detailing all the excuses for sniffing and straying are depositions in the imagined Inquisition that never happened.

When your view fits the time, it prepares you for when common sense is automatic so the focus can stay on this very second. First, you practice curbing the anxiety associated with the experience, you quell it, then you say, "next". It's that simple.

Adjusting to the shortcomings becomes the current daily dozen. It's so appropriate. That keeps the eyes on recognizing how the progress is doing. You can rehearse running a 4k but making it through the 'Tate-a-rama makes a guy grateful for weight-shape-endurance status to prevail. Like the one about:
At a nudist colony for intellectuals in England: Two old men are sitting on the front porch. One turns to the other and says, "I say, old boy, have you read Marx?" The other says, "Yes, it's these wicker chairs."
It's not all about how you got here there, it's about the size of the ritual.

So here's where the ass fell off came from:
I'm here because my ass fell off. It happened one afternoon while I was drying the limo with a ShamWow and I looked on the ground and my ass was looking up at me flattened by the concrete driveway. Next thing I can remember is waking up here. Should I just have picked up my ass and pushed it back into place before the ambulance turned the corner and there I was, a sitting duck assless and bewildered? So funny I forgot to laugh.