Category: Aging & Identity

Blog Entry #1 2025-06-15, Albuquerque, NM USA

Lust for Life, Data, and the Treadmill

The Update: Same Weight, More Effort

Friends and Conspirators, it’s been a while since my last update. Life has been a rollercoaster, and sometimes, no news is just no news. But here’s the latest:

My weight has been stuck at 270something for the last several weeks. And I’m hungry – a lot.

I’m working with Dr. E’s team to up my Zepbound dosage. I’ve been logging time on the treadmill and under-desk bike more often than not and doing my best to keep the cravings and ‘food noise’ at bay. Results? Mixed. But every day’s a new chance to try again, right?

The Not So Boyish Face

I’ve always come off younger than my real self. A solid 10 years younger. People still card me. Waitstaff call me “dude,” not “sir.” I’ve coasted for years on a boyish face and the charm that sometimes comes with it. But lately? The mirror’s been less generous. The quote from the young and comely customer service agent that shattered all delusions? “You’re letting your hair grow. I like it. You got this AGING surfer vibe”.

The Algorithm Hates Me

As part of my health mission, I’ve strapped on a fitness tracker. Mine’s a Garmin with more computing power than NASA had for the moon missions. It tracks my steps, my heart rate, and my blood oxygen levels. It can tell me where I am within a few feet. It even tracks the quality of my sleep and works some sort of algorithmic voodoo to compute my stress levels. This week, it revealed a startling and chilling statistic:

MY FITNESS AGE IS 78

I’m not going to tell you my actual age. But I assure you, I am nowhere near 78 years of age. Thanks, Robot Overlord. No sticker? No “you tried”? Just cold, clinical data and a hefty dose of existential dread. I don’t mind the AARP fliers, everybody gets those eventually. But this? This feels like Garmin has Samhain on speed dial.

Karen, Iggy, and the Math of It All

I had a thought this weekend. It was one of those too awful to tell classic Mark jokes that starts grim and ends deeper:

Karen Carpenter died at 32. Iggy Pop is still rocking at 78.

It hit me harder than expected. Karen had the voice of an angel and died from something that whispered instead of screamed. Iggy Pop is all leather, chaos, and adrenaline, still banging out 90-minute shows, shirtless and crowd surfing. I bet his Fitness Age is 23.

Life isn’t fair.

But it is loud.

We all live somewhere between “Rainy Days and Mondays” and “Lust for Life.”

Some days, the world wraps you in velvet; dark, heavy, full of longing and exhaustion. Other days, it’s on fire and we’re slam dancing in the flames.

Maybe that’s the point: not to pick one, but to keep dancing on that line between burning out and fading away.

Garmin doesn’t care how young I feel. It’s crunching heart rate variability, VO2 max, stress levels, and whether I’ve walked past a vegetable this week. Right now, it says: “You may vibe like 35. But you move like 75. Maybe stretch once in a while?”

So, what’s the plan?   

Because this isn’t about looking young.
It’s not about snagging Miss Right Now.
It’s about staying in the game; with enough energy to laugh, love, and maybe even outlive my smartwatch.

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Mood: Sleeping with the lights on.

Comments are always welcome.

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** This post — like most things in the “Mark’s Other Things” universe — was created with a little help from ChatGPT. The typos are mine, the existential dread is real, and the better turns of phrase probably came from the machine. But the voice? That’s still me. Mostly.

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