I guess there comes a point where you see that longevity trumps personal ya ya's.
Already a competent motorcyclists, riding since I was 5, I discovered super bike racing at 46. I thought I was too old to start. I proved myself wrong.I had an amazing first season and had 11 podiums. (Quick learner.) It was great until...it wasn't. I wasn't too old to race. I was too old to crash.
I never have enjoyed anything as much as racing. But I saw the misery in the eyes of my loved ones, seeing me in the ICU, wondering if I was going to die or live. I thought that I just needed to get better so I could hit the track again. I realized how selfish that was. Not interested in putting my people through those times again.
I also cannot ski (which I also loved and didn't have the sense to stay off moguls). I am lucky to be walking, albeit with a shitload of pain.
Also wanting to live for my children and grandchildren keeps my from doing the shit I once loved. I just learned to love different things. Like returning to bodybuilding 29 years after first competing.
Sure, I am restricted in what I can do, but I was waaaay more restricted during those six months in a wheelchair.
You only live once, but you only die once too. How you live can be controlled by you. How you die,, not so much. I am not interested in helping the Grim Reaper do his jobs.