My path to living healthier began almost 20 years ago when my father passed away at age 63 and my mother was diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer two days prior to his death (she passed four years later). I got a bit obsessed with educating myself on becoming healthier to mitigate the chances of dying prematurely. I subsequently learned that I had Celiac disease, was allergic to dairy, and that I was pre-diabetic. In fact, my holistic nutritionist said that I was less than one year from Type I diabetes. By combining self-discipline and my desire to alter my longevity, I completely changed my diet, and today continue to feel better than ever.
Often when I meet someone for the first time, they are shocked about my age, and inquire how I do it. The short answer is that I invest in my health and wellness. While my profession centers around educating and coaching people on making more informed financial choices to help them achieve their goals, quite often I convey that if you don’t invest early-on in your health, it is pointless to go through years of thoughtful financial planning and investing only to reach your golden years and not be healthy enough to fully enjoy it. A recent book by Peter Attia, MD entitled “Outlive: The Science and Art of Longevity”, does a good job drawing on the latest science to provide innovative nutritional interventions, techniques for optimizing exercise and sleep, and tools for addressing emotional and mental health, many of which I follow.
Investing in your health and wellness does not come cheaply. For our family of three, we spend upwards of $50,000 a year on organic foods, supplements, and homeopathic practitioners. For us, Whole Foods really lives up to their nickname, “whole paycheck”. But early on in my transformation, a conversation with my nutritionist put this health investment into perspective: I was griping about how expensive all this health and wellness was, and his response was that I could either invest in my health over next several decades or continue an unhealthy lifestyle and end up in the adjacent room as a patient with an incurable disease. Sage advice that continues to pay handsome dividends.
