I go for long walks every day with the dog—a little more than 90 minutes a day on average. I do it every day when I’m well and at home, sometimes arranging my day around it. I don’t do it when my body is saying NO NO NO. When I had covid two years ago, I just parked my ass in bed for a week until I felt up to walking, then took a few days to get back into the full 90-minute walk.

I don’t run, and I certainly don’t run until I puke.

Still, I am definitely compulsive about my exercise routine. And I’m OK with that.

Also, I have to watch what I eat ALL THE TIME. I can’t just eat when I’m hungry like many people do. I have to weigh and measure nearly everything.

Fifteen years ago, I was 100 pounds overweight and sedentary. Now, even though I’m 62 years old, I firmly believe I have the body of a healthy 35-year-old, and exercise and good eating are the credit for that. (Well, also the luck to be born healthy and middle-class—those are hugely important too. But not sufficient.)

Whereas if I had kept up the bad habits I had 15 years ago, I would be a physical wreck today, and there’s a good chance I’d be dead.