Quantity v. Quality

It's an age old question. One of those that can be debated into the wee hours of the morning with no conclusion. It's the question of quantity or quality. Before I get into it, take a moment to consider it for yourself. Would you rather have a plethora of something "meh" or a few of something really good. I'll give you two examples so that you have a better idea of what I'm saying, and an easier time of determining what your view on the issue is:

1) Let's talk about food. Let's assume that you don't like fish and chips a lot, but that you are a huge fan of oatmeal (I know that it's an odd and mostly unrealistic example, but bear with me). So, one fine day, you get to choose between a good portion of fish and chips (a hardy 2 fillets with a heaping pile of warm fries) or a delicious pack of your favourite oatmeal. (Note I said "pack". One, single pack.) If you've ever eaten oatmeal from  those instant packs, you know they aren't very big. In fact, they're so small that I'd doubt one pack could satisfy a toddler. So, which do you choose? A little bit of incredibly delicious oatmeal or a satisfying amount of average-tasting fish and chips?

2) For the second example, let's talk about people. If you could be the "popular" kid in school, and have flocks of acquaintances, but no really close friends, would you? Or would you rather have one or two very close friends, but not many broader connections?  

Based on the two examples I provided above, you should be able to come to some sort of vague conclusion as to what kind of person you are and what you value more. Regardless of what you value, I encourage you to keep reading. My critique will be about this philosophical question in terms of life. I will be advocating for the "#YOLO" mentality (moderately, of course!)

As you may have guessed, I prefer quality. I'm one of those people who believe that life should be good. That every breathing moment should be lived as comfortably as possible. Obviously, this varies for people, because the definition of "comfort" varies for everyone. Take another moment to consider what comfort means for you. 

Before I begin delving deeper, let me explain why I was so inclined to write this post. I was inspired by my friend, and by many of the people who live in Vancouver, particularly joggers. 

On one of Vancouver's many rainy days, I was walking down Robson street. I was on my way home from school, which was the only reason I was outside. (Generally, I refuse to exit my home if there is so much as a cloud in the sky, but school sadly requires me to leave often.) I was on my way out of one bus, and had to walk down about a block of Robson to reach my next bus stop to get home. This was unfortunate because it required me to get wet in the rain, but I had to do it. When I made it to the shelter of the bus stop, I sat down and impatiently waited for the next bus. Of course, as is the usual case, the bus was nowhere to be seen. Looking back, I am extremely satisfied that that bus was late because it gave me time to think and even undergo an epiphany.

No bus, lots of rain and humid, dewy people - ain't life grand? I stared into space, looking for something to turn my attention away from the anger I was experiencing because of the bus's tardiness. There it was! But it didn't help with my anger, it amplified it. It was a woman. A woman dressed in tight Lululemon leggings, a NorthFace windbreaker and hot pink Asics running shoes. Her blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail and raindrops dripped from her nose with each gallop. She was jogging. It was repulsing, pathetic and vomit-inducing. She was running in this weather. Why? Why? Why? Why would anyone condemn themselves to this? 

Luckily, I quickly realized that she wasn't the only woman I had ever seen doing this. No, hundreds of women run by me each day in their pathetic workout attire, in all kinds of weather, in their sad attempt to stay healthy. This one just happened to be the subject of my wrath that day. 

Anyway, this woman got me thinking about my friend. My friend, who has intensely muscular legs for a 16-year-old girl. My friend, who is so repulsed my McDonald's food that she refuses to consume a single fry. My friend, who forces herself to perform physical activity, in the form of running, on a daily basis, at the encouragement of her father overseas. My friend, who tries her very best at running races in school and thus possesses a school record. My friend, who went on a diet consisting exclusively of fruit to lose imaginary weight to please her visiting parents. (I really do like her, it's just these aspects annoy me.)

Anyway, the problem I saw with my friend and these women was, firstly, that they were doing most of these things to please other people as oppose to themselves, and secondly, that they were doing these chores not because they enjoyed them, but because they believed they could reap some benefits from them in the future. Let me make 2 things perfectly clear. Firstly, I do believe that there are benefits to physical activity. Secondly, I understand that these women may be doing some of these things because they enjoy them, or to please themselves, but that's beside the point. 

These women were suppressing their lives, in order to extend them. That is what repulses me. Their quality of life is low, but, as a result of that, they will most likely outlive idle, cheeseburger eating folks like me by a decade or so.
Do I regret it? Absolutely not. I'm happy with my life and it makes me feel good to do the bare minimum in PE class, and to never workout on my own will, and to eat whatever I feel like eating. So, would I sacrifice 10 extra years of senior-ism and a cellulite-free butt for living comfortably and peacefully? Yeah, I guess I would. What's the point to 10 extra years, anyways? If you outlive all your friends, then what? You'll suffer from deep misery knowing that it was mistake to hesitate from all those small, simple pleasures of life.
Look, I think that the mental burden of waking up each day with the fear of missing a run or accidentally eating something with carbohydrates is more harmful to a person's life than actually not running. But that's just me.
So, to all those joggers decked out in thin, see-through Lululemon and in deep states of depression because their delusional wishes of fitting in eventually come to no avail - relax. Don't worry. Everyone will eventually die, so don't do things to make them happy because they won't be able to judge you for long. Don't restrain yourself for such a huge portion of your life because you'll never get it back, and when you have no one to turn to in your raw vegan book club, you'll regret the running during the torrential rain because you'll know that deep down, you hated it.
Don't make the task of life any longer than you want it to be. Think about it, if you hate running, then do you really want to add those extra years to your life? In reality, those extra years amount to extra suffering and extra diets and extra runs and extra muscles in your thighs.