My wife likes to call me Mr. Magoo.
Calene claims I wander through life in a state of mild befuddlement, flirting with calamity without knowing. I blame it on the way I arrange my days, traveling from one obsession to another: predawn dreams about the presidency of Teddy Roosevelt, straight out of bed to sunrise practice with my runners, then an hour with my novel before putting playtime away and turning my focus to historical research and writing. Then a workout on the bucolic trails of O'Neill Park, where among the things I ponder is whether the local deer know me, because they no longer run away when I approach, simply standing to one side of the trail and watching me pass. Loud music in the car, anything from Springsteen to trying to memorize "Modern Major General." Afternoon practice with the runners, my mental focus completely on just the right amount of speed and aerobic work to finish the season strong. By the end of the day, it's time to juggle my fantasy football lineup, read a book on the back porch, and finally, shut it all down for the night.
Everything is conducted with enormous obsession. When I lock in, I lock in. So little things like changing lanes in heavy traffic may not get the complete focus they deserve. Thus, Mr. Magoo.
But when I think of that cartoon character I think of slight dementia. And as I endure the daily struggle to find my phone and car keys, it's only natural to wonder if there's something to that. It's one of those things I ponder but don't investigate. But right now, among the books I'm reading is Dr. Peter Attia's Outlive, an excellent text on all things health and aging. From what I've read so far, my mental health is just fine — but vigilance is super important to living a long life without significant decline.
I trust Attia's writing. I've listened to his podcast for years — though not on long road trips. The good doctor's monotone delivery and enormous amount of arcane medical knowledge almost put me to sleep at the wheel while driving to Mammoth last summer. Pair him with sleep guru Dr. Matthew Walker, whose voice is perfect for a directed meditation, and you have two geniuses capable of inducing deep slumber. But as I take the time to read Outlive (very slowly, because I find medical detail necessary but not exciting), I can honestly say this book is changing my life. It's confirming some things I suspected about exercise (aerobic and weight work are vital), health (losing a few pounds is a good idea for a number of reasons that have nothing to do with being vain), and the importance of something as foreign as mitochondria. Best of all, Outlive is not a self-help book. Just research, thoughtfully explained with a thesis toward avoiding decline. I've never recommended a book in this space but put this on your Christmas list.
Outlive also got me thinking about what getting old looks like. When I was eighteen and the world was a blank slate, half my mental energy was given over to figuring out what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be when I grew up. Now, when I think about how I want to spend the next forty years, my only thought is that I want to travel well. See parts of the world we've never seen. Indulge in fine hotels. Make love on a beach with no name.
One thing I know is that I'll never stop being Mr. Magoo, filling days with obsessions. Writing will always be a thing. I'll be that old coach who still shows up at meets before dawn, simply for the glory of watching sunrise on race day. The deer in O'Neill will introduce me to their babies and their baby's babies. Calene and I will visit Vietnam and India, places we've always wanted to see. I never thought to write about what growing old looks like, but I hope it's a lot like that.