Power lives in habits. When you do something consistently — no breaks, no vacations, no deferring to "later" — a particular quality slowly takes root in you. Call it an inability to sit still. You simply cannot be idle. Something itches at you. Every free minute, you instinctively reach for something to pour yourself into, something to fill the gap, somewhere to direct the energy.
You start to see time differently — as a resource. Not a frightening or oppressive one, but an enticing one. A bit like money: some people love to spend it, others love to invest it. Here it works the same way: time stops being the backdrop of life and becomes its raw material. And there is a particular pleasure in that — not hurried, not anxious, but calm and eager all at once.
Whether this resource is renewable or not — I don't think it's worth walking into that trap. The moment you start dwelling on its finitude, time turns into a source of dread rather than energy. Yes, none of us are here forever. Even if we someday conquer aging, sooner or later we will outgrow the shell our biology has given us and will have to leave it behind. But that is no reason to count the minutes. It is a reason not to waste them.