This Should Make Me Miserable

September is archery season here in Colorado, and I spend a lot of it deep in the wild.

Most mornings start between 3:30 and 5:00 a.m., hiking alone in the dark. I’m cold, tired, and often uncomfortable.

But I’m also happy.

And I believe I’m healthier because of it.

There’s something about being out there that asks me to use more of myself.

I have to pay attention to the wind. Read the terrain. Decide when to move and when to sit still. Manage my effort knowing that however far I go, I still have to get myself back.

My body and mind have a shared problem to solve.

That feels good.

It also gives all the training I do throughout the year a purpose. The strength, endurance, and mobility become useful in a very immediate way.

Now consider the opposite: a life of unlimited comfort.

Driving everywhere.

Never hot, never cold.

Food available at all times.

A comfortable place to sit.

A screen ready to rescue you from even 10 seconds of boredom.

Each individual convenience seems harmless enough. And honestly, a lot of them are pretty great.

But add them together, day after day, and you can build a life that asks very little of your body while keeping your mind constantly occupied.

You can finish the day exhausted without having done much that made you feel capable.

I think that’s worth examining.

Even fitness can become another box to check. Burn the calories. Complete the workout. Record the numbers. We can get so caught up in managing our fitness that we forget to ask what we want to do with it.

What am I keeping myself in shape for?

I turned 41 last month, and that question is becoming more interesting to me.

My daughters are still little. In 20 years, I want to be able to join them on whatever adventure they’ve dreamed up. I want to carry my share of the gear, handle a long day, and have enough left to enjoy being there.

When I picture myself at 70, I still picture mountains.

Of course, I can’t guarantee what my health will look like then. But I can give that future version of myself some consideration in how I live today.

Those future adventures will require something of me.

Strength to carry a pack. Endurance to keep moving. Mobility to navigate awkward terrain. Enough confidence in my body to commit to the trip in the first place.

This is what I’m getting at with Performance-Longevity Training.

Start with the life you want to remain capable of living. Then build the physical and mental abilities that support it.

Here’s what that currently looks like for me:

* Strength and mobility together.
Moving through a full range of motion with weight, building strength in positions I actually need to use. Getting down to the ground, standing back up, reaching, stepping, carrying.

* Norwegian 4x4 intervals.
Working on my VO₂ max and deliberately spending some time breathing hard. I want enough endurance that a steep climb can be part of an enjoyable day.

* A better information diet.
Paying attention to what I’m feeding my mind. There’s a cost to constantly consuming things that leave me distracted, agitated, or mentally somewhere else. I want to be able to give my attention to the people and experiences in front of me.

Recovery belongs in this conversation, too. I want to finish training with enough energy to live the rest of my life and come back for another session.

The dose matters.

That’s how I think about building an antifragile body and mind: taking on manageable challenges, recovering, and gradually becoming capable of more.

It’s also why I think we should pay attention to our Fitness Vital Signs: strength, endurance, mobility, and recovery.

Alongside the numbers your doctor measures, I want to know: What can you do? What feels easier than it did last year? What have you quietly stopped doing because it became too difficult?

That last question deserves an honest answer.

As Mark Rippetoe put it:

“Strong people are harder to kill and more useful in general.”

I like the word useful there.

Being able to help. Carrying some extra weight when someone else is struggling. Having something left to give.

Rucking fits naturally into this philosophy. And I think we can build on it with seasonal challenges and adventures that give our training a purpose.

Pick a trail you want to hike. Plan a night outside. Choose something that makes you a little unsure of yourself, then spend time preparing for it.

There’s a lot of satisfaction in watching something that once felt out of reach become something you can actually do.

And you get to enjoy that benefit now, while you’re working toward a longer, healthier life.

When I think about longevity, I keep coming back to those September mornings.

I’d like a lot more of them.

And when the alarm goes off years from now, I want to have both the desire and the ability to get up and go.

Vibe check: how does this hit?

What do you want to stay capable of doing as you get older?

Reply and let me know.

 

Live Wild or die,

-Dan, Wild Gym Founder