Former Howard Stern sidekick Artie Lange wrote a book called “Too Fat to Fish,” and while that doesn’t quite characterize my current situation, it’s not far off. If I’m not careful, my future magnum opus might be called, “Too Fat to Fish the Way I Want.”

I’ve never been truly obese, I exercise a few times a week, and I can fish all day without a seat, but in Guatemala I realized that if I’m going to go at it hard when I retire in a decade or so I need to step up my game now. On Day One, Hanna and I combined to battle 23 sailfish and a couple of mahi, and I was glad that the sails tucker out comparatively quickly due to their constant acrobatics. If I’d had to battle a 400 pound marlin through a multi-hour fight I might’ve been whipped before the fish.

Since my metabolism has deteriorated each decade from 30 to 40 to 50, I can assume that’s going to continue – and since I want to chase giant trevally, arapaima and big yellowfin tuna (among other species) when I’m older, it’s going to be even more of a challenge then than it is now.

Compounding all of this, I saw how much the trip wore out my parents, who are 76 and 77 years old. Granted, even at 50 their lives were much more sedentary than mine is now, but they struggled physically with the long days on a rocking boat. If I intend to be bushwhacking through the jungle for big peacock bass at their age, I need to start the prep work now.

Even though I made this realization while we were still in Guatemala, I didn’t start the metamorphosis there – the Gallo cerveza and rich desserts of Casa Vieja Lodge were too much to ignore. “Mañana,” I told myself, but “mañana” is coming sooner than I think.