Your Body is Not a Rental Car (So Stop Using It Like One)
Alright, my friends, pull up a chair. We’ve talked money, we’ve talked purpose. Today, we need to talk about the one piece of equipment you absolutely cannot trade in for a newer model: your body.
I remember my twenties. I was a superhero forged from cheap beer, questionable late-night kebabs, and the sheer, blissful ignorance of youth. I ran on fumes and flirtation. Sleep was a suggestion. Gravity was a personal challenge. My body was a faithful, indestructible machine that I treated like a rental car on a long weekend—red-lining it everywhere, ignoring the weird noises, and assuming I could just drop it off at the end without any consequences.
Sounds familiar?
Then, for many of us, the first speed bump appears. It’s usually small, squishy, and calls you "Dad" or "Mum."
Suddenly, you’re holding this tiny human, and a terrifying thought hits you for the first time: “Oh. I might actually be destructible.” Then you realise you’re their primary source of food and shelter, and maybe, just maybe, launching yourself off a garage roof onto a pile of cardboard boxes isn't a responsible weekend activity anymore.
You start to slow down. A little. But the invincibility mindset is a hard habit to break. You’re still in your 30s and 40s. You can still pull an all-nighter (with the help of industrial-strength coffee). You can still play a game of pickup basketball and only feel like you’ve been hit by a truck for three days afterwards, not a full week.
This, my friends, is the most important and most ignored decade of your life. It’s when your body starts sending you polite little memos that you crumple up and throw in the bin.
That trick knee from a high school sports injury? It's not "character" anymore; it's a preview of your future weather-forecasting abilities.
That tooth you keep meaning to get fixed? It’s planning a very expensive, very painful rebellion for when you least expect it.
That back that goes "sproing" when you pick up a bag of groceries? That's your body's "check engine" light. You can’t just put a piece of tape over it.
You need to listen to these things now. Because the minor annoyances of your 40s become the non-negotiable limitations of your 70s. You want to be able to travel, play with grandkids, or just get up off the couch without making a sound like a rusty hinge. The work for that starts today.
A Boomer's No-Nonsense Guide to Not Falling Apart
Now, I see what you’re dealing with. The internet is a firehose of wellness nonsense. One day, you’re supposed to eat nothing but kale and quinoa. Next, you’re a "carnivore" eating a steak for breakfast. Gluten is evil. Sugar is poison. Go keto! Go vegan! Take this supplement! Buy this magic powder! The latest research shows this and that!
It’s designed to make you confused, desperate, and a great customer.
Let me, a man who has seen more diet fads than hairstyles, simplify it for you. Barring a genuine medical condition (and for most of you, that’s not the case), here is the secret that has worked since we were all climbing out of the primordial soup:
Eat food. Real food. Stuff that grew on a plant or had a face or was created by nature, not the factory. Avoid stuff from a box with 50 ingredients you can’t even pronounce.
Eat less of it. I know, it’s revolutionary. But it works. Your body doesn't need as much fuel to sit in a desk chair as it did when you were a teenage tornado. Ever been on a long flight? Yes, you can survive well on those tiny portions.
Move. A lot. And for the love of all that is holy, if you live in a place with trees and fresh air, why are you paying money to run on a "human hamster wheel" inside a smelly gym, staring at a wall? Walk. Hike. Ride a bike. Dance in your kitchen. Go outside! Your ancestors crossed continents on foot; you can manage a brisk walk around the block. When everybody was desperately trying to do those 10 thousand steps a day, I discovered that even in the office, I was getting it just by skipping stupid internal mail and walking to see my co-workers, using the staircase rather than a lift, etc.
That's it. No magic pills, no weird diets, no expensive subscriptions.
This isn’t about body-shaming or trying to look like you did at 25. This is about one thing: Freedom. The freedom to enjoy the life you’re working so hard to build. Don’t let the reliable, trusty body you have now turn into a prison of aches and pains later because you couldn't be bothered to do the basic maintenance.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going for a walk. Not on a treadmill. Outside. Where the squirrels and birds are.
