Welcome to getting old as a bodybuilder. The torn tendons, ruined joints and other injuries, the drug dependence, the heart and blood pressure and hematocrit/hemoglobin issues, the erectile dysfunction, the orthorexia and muscle dysmorphia, the sleep apnea, the inflammation that comes from decades of beating yourself up for some little plastic trophies, or just to look good in the mirror and for women or the beach or your own lack of self-esteem that drove you to all of this madness in the first place. And worst of all, the fact that you realize you will never look as good as you did when you were younger again, never be as strong as you were again or ripped as you were again, and that everything is on the downward spiral to the grave, whether you are buried in a big coffin or not.
And yet, still we train, bust our asses in the gym, watch our food at the dinner table, try to do our best to be the best we can be. Even if all the glories of the past are behind us, and all we can hope for is to hopefully be the jacked old guy at the gym. Was it all worth it? I have regrets, but when I'm pushing hard at the gym and the workout is really going great, I don't regret a single thing.
We are lifers, and we endure.