Last month I read Outlive, which I highly recommend. When I read Peter Attia's interview in the NYT, I found his message intriguing and his ego off-putting in almost equal measure. Not quite equal, though, because I decided to read the book. It is fascinating. He has quite the ego, to be sure, but he might almost deserve it.
The number one thing I don't like (besides (did I mention?) the ego that might require its own seat for airline travel), is the way he talks about men as the norm and women almost as an afterthought. But EVEN SO, I'm telling you: you should read this book.
Nutshell version: he talks about reducing your odds of developing what he calls the four horsemen (atherosclerotic disease, metabolic dysfunction, neurodegenerative disease, and cancer) with the goal of extending your healthspan-- the period of time in which you are healthy enough to enjoy your life and live it independently. He proposes a multi-pronged approach for keeping the four horsemen at bay, and its outlines will be familiar to you. (Again, though, he writes about them in a compelling way with a boatload of information that was new to me.) The thing that was most surprising to me was his emphasis on stability, on protecting your body's capacity to interact safely with the world around it.
I have been exploring some of the ideas in that chapter over the last month. For instance: he writes about how our toes should function, and mine are falling down on the job. I hypothesize that the years I spent wearing Patriarchy Shoes in the 1980s/1990s caused me to disregard enough sensory input from my sad squashed pinky toes that I'm having a hard time using them as intended here in middle age. Maybe it wasn't the shoes, but something caused me to need a month of consistent practice to make firm contact between my right pinky toe and the floor when I stand up. I'm still working on the left one.
Recently my Kindle suggested that I might like a book called Built To Move, and I've been working my way through that one. I'm doing their 21-day mobility challenge, and finding it a bite-sized way to address some of the effects of the passage of time. Each chapter has a simple test followed by practices for improving your performance on the test. It's fun, if a little humbling, and you might like it too.
In the balance chapter, for instance, there are two tests. Test #1: Stand on one foot. Close your eyes. Count the number of times you put your foot down in a 20-second period. I did so badly on this test, you guys! My balance is fine when my eyes are open. I can hold tree pose comfortably for a long time. But I am relying more heavily than I realized on visual feedback to keep myself in the pose.
Test #2 is the Old Man Balance Test, a name that gave me hope initially. "I have better balance than an old man," said I to myself. I do not, however, have better balance than an old man who could pass this test. They tell you to stand on one foot with a pair of socks and lace-up shoes on the floor in front of you. Without touching your foot to the ground, bend down and pick up the sock. Put it on. Keeping your foot in the air, bend down again and pick up your shoe. Put it on and tie it, keeping your foot up the whole time. Switch feet and do it again.
I can do this task in segments. I can get a sock on without falling over, but then I need to touch my foot to the ground before I can lift it up again and put my shoe on. I might or might not be able to tie it without tapping my foot on the ground again. I'm having fun with the trying, though, after many years of reflexively sitting down to put on my socks and shoes.
Give it a whirl and tell me what you think!
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