Don't let comfort kill you

Play the long game

Let me add my voice to the chorus praising Outlive, Peter Attia’s bestselling book on how to increase your healthspan, so that you can better enjoy your lifespan. It’s honestly amazing. But don’t take my word for it—I read it because Sam Harris said Oprah recommends it. In all of my years on this earth, Oprah has never once steered me wrong.

Why is this book amazing? Not necessarily because of the science it contains, which, while valuable, is mostly stuff you probably already know. Eating real foods is better for you than eating processed foods. Getting quality sleep is important. Exercise is recommended over sitting down all the time.

Outlive is persuasive. It combines scientific rigor with an emotionally intelligent story of personal growth. That is, emotional health is portrayed as being as important as any of the purely physical factors we can control. I’ve never experienced that level of respect for the essential, intangible parts of what it means to be a human, coming from a medical doctor. Attia is vulnerable and sensitive to what it’s like to try and live a life that balances the kinds of virtues people read about on your resume and the ones people talk about at your funeral. You do need both. But they require very different kinds of attention and dedication.

But the single attribute that sets Outlive apart is its willingness to go beyond “you should, because.” We know those things, we’ve heard them a million times, and we belligerently rebel against them because who the fuck has the time or the energy.

Outlive says, in stark terms, “if you don’t, you won’t be able to…” If you have trouble climbing long flights of stairs without getting winded when you’re in your late 30s, you will have trouble navigating a gently inclined surface when you’re in your 80s. If you lack the muscle mass to do a bunch of push ups now, how the hell are you going to get up off the floor if you fall down when you’re in your dotage?

I’m really calling myself out here.

But you get the idea.

I’m not saying you have to read Outlive, but if you have the time and the energy, I think you should.

Here’s what I am saying: We need to get more comfortable, long-term, with making ourselves uncomfortable in the short term. That’s how I’d boil down this book’s message. And it’s a message arguably made even more succinctly in other books: Michael Easter’s The Comfort Crisis, or Paul Taylor’s Death by Comfort, for example.

Look, modern life is absolutely spectacular. Any single one of your ancestors, if they could observe the way you live now, would think you were either a god or a space alien.

But modern life is also the reason why many of us will live to age 90, but only live good till, say, age 70 or 80. All of the challenge has been eliminated from our lives. Most of us don’t have to hunt anything or run away from anything or walk anywhere unless we choose to. That feels great in the immediate term, but talk to any 90-year-old you know. None of them will say, “I wish I had an easier time sitting down and remaining motionless.”

I’ve always been a fan of doing things the slightly-more-cumbersome way, if I feel like the process itself is interesting or rewarding. But even I feel that I’m not doing nearly enough to avoid the curse of comfort.

Before the pandemic, I was going to the gym three or four times a week, lifting weights mostly. Social distancing and the need to wear a mask (not to mention the fear of getting Covid) while I worked out made that an uncomfortable experience. So I stopped. I’ve never gone back.

Living and working in and around Tokyo, I’m fortunate in that it makes sense to walk a lot. I don’t own a car, and don’t need one. If I need to travel vast distances, I take a train.

Now, train stations present an opportunity, but it’s one that most people don’t take. Observe, next time you have a chance. For every one hundred people who need to move from the train platform up (or down) to the street, how many opt to take the stairs, instead of standing still on the escalator? I’m guessing it’s in the mid-nineties.

Or, let’s say there’s some consumer product you desperately want. Do you order it on Amazon? If so, why? You know you’re depriving yourself of the opportunity to get out, explore the neighbourhood, and potentially support local businesses. What do you need so badly that next-day (or same-day) delivery is really the move?

Imagine you’re thirsty as all get-out and you find yourself at the convenience store. Setting aside the avoidable sin of purchasing yet another plastic bottle that’ll probably wind up somewhere in the damn ocean, do you grab the water? Or do you grab the sports drink, which is full of a bunch of added sugar that millions of years of evolution have not prepared your body to digest in such a concentrated dose?

Finally, let me share the story of a kid I knew in middle school.

Back then, and in elementary school, I played a fair amount of basketball. Just schoolyard level, nothing organized. There were guys who had good jump shots, and guys with handles. But there was one guy who became something of a local legend.

This one guy would only practice his basketball techniques while wearing a backpack full of coins, because he felt that added weight would help him to move with more speed and agility when he took the backpack off and got serious. He learned this technique from Dragon Ball Z and wasn’t shy about that fact.

At the time, everybody made fun of this dude behind his back. But here I am, still remembering him twenty-five years later.

I could die today. But if I’m fortunate, I’ve still got a lot of years left. It’s up to me to make sure those years are all worth living.