Yeah, but then I woke up. I mean, there are a number of times in my life, if I try to clock them I probably could, where I thought, OK, now I figured out everything there is to know about acting. And now I just have to do it and let it go. And my metaphor is climbing. You climb to the top of the mountain and go, “Whoa, that was really hard,” but now I’m at the top of this mountain. And then the clouds blow away and you go, “Holy shit, I’m not even two-thirds of the way up there.” That’s happened to me a lot of times. In terms of being young and hungry—I know it’s obscene, but I still feel that right now, physically, today. And, you know, I may get to the point where tomorrow, I won’t be able to swing a kettlebell or do fist push-ups, or work out or ski, or whatever. It could happen to me, at my age, in the next 30 seconds…

Speaking of which, what extreme activities are you still pursuing right now?

God, you know, I don’t know how to answer that because I tend to not think of what I’ve done as that extreme. I don’t do it anymore, but I was a predictive spear fisherman—a blue water hunter going out past fall-offs to where the water is no longer hundreds of feet deep, but thousands of feet deep. I came home one day and Carol was watching television. She said, “Statistically, you’re doing one of the three most dangerous sports in the world. Number one, BASE jumping. Number two, performance freediving. Number three, open-water spearfishing. She said, “You do two of these things and you jump out of airplanes.” I said, “Yeah, but that’s skydiving. I don’t BASE jump, nor would I.” So I looked at this show and what they didn’t mention was that maybe 90 percent of the time people die doing performance freediving and spearfishing because they did them alone. Had there been one other person there to turn you over when you experienced shallow water blackout, you’d be alive. I’ve saved seven different people’s lives with a shallow water blackout.

Someone said to me, “You’re really brave. You race motorcycles and ice climb and open water spearfish.” And my answer to that is, “There’s all kinds of fear.” A number of years ago I had to go to Salt Lake City to the Huntsman Center to cut some basal cell cancer off around my ear and across my cheek. While I was doing that, the surgeon asked, “What do you do for fun?” I went blah, blah, blah. He said, “I would not consider open-water spearfishing again.” I said, “Why?” And he said, “How deep do you go when you go after a Maya Maya or a tuna?” I said, “70 feet, more or less.” He said one 70-foot dive, [eliminates] whatever sunscreen you’ve got on. You’re in the middle of the biggest swimming pool in the world if you’re diving off the coast of Kona in Hawaii, which I was. “Your chances of getting skin cancer again because of your history are almost 100 percent.” At that very second, in an office in Salt Lake, I quit open-water spearfishing for the rest of my fucking life. So when you talk about fear and bravery and all of that stuff…

Wow, so battling sharks is OK, but skin cancer—a different kind of fear.

It’s a situation that threatens life and limb. And I’m afraid of it.

Did you convince Mike to let you do anything more physical for this upcoming finale? Is there something else left in the tank for Jim?

Number one: No, I didn’t try to change what the character did because it was so well written. And I know what Mike needs for this story to work, for continuing on. What’s going to happen next? I have no idea!

But you’re OK with a cane now.

I’m OK with the cane.