Don’t Optimize. Simply Stay Capable.
Aging into who we want to be
I’m Teague de La Plaine. This is Open Logbook—a public log of observations on humanity, shared systems, and the long future.
Lately I’ve been reading Thomas Seyfried on mitochondrial health and metabolic disease. Before that it was Valter Longo on fasting and longevity. Somewhere in between were Peter Attia, the Mediterranean diet, enoughism, and Brett McKay’s The Strenuous Life.
At first, these seemed like unrelated interests. One was about cancer. Another about aging. Another about ancient philosophy. Then something clicked. They’re all asking the same question.
How do I remain capable?
Not how do I live forever. Not how do I get six-pack abs at fifty-two. Not how do I optimize every biomarker until my smartwatch congratulates me for existing.
Just this:
How do I preserve the ability to fully participate in my own life for as long as possible?
That, I’ve come to believe, is a much better north star.
The Wrong Goal
Modern wellness has become another consumer hobby.
Every week there’s a new supplement, another wearable, another miracle protocol. We are encouraged to optimize sleep, optimize hormones, optimize glucose, optimize stress, optimize productivity. We track everything except whether we’re actually living well. It’s an endless race toward an ever-moving finish line.
Ironically, many of the healthiest people I’ve met weren’t optimizing anything. They simply lived lives that required them to move, work, cook, laugh, rest, and contribute. Maybe we’ve confused optimization with health.
The Zone of Capability
Seyfried talks about a “Zone of Prevention.” His argument is that by the time diseases like diabetes or even some cancers become apparent, our metabolism has often been drifting off course for years. That idea resonated with me.
But I found myself thinking less about disease and more about capability. Can I still hike all day through a foreign city? Can I haul sails on a pitching deck? Can I kneel comfortably in the dojo? Can I lift a grandchild overhead? Can I help a friend move a couch without wondering whether my back will survive? Those questions matter to me more than any single laboratory value.
The goal isn’t to avoid dying. It’s to avoid becoming fragile while I’m still alive.
My New Metric
For years I thought in terms of weight. Now I think in terms of operating range.
At 175cm, my goal isn’t to reach some magical number. It’s to live comfortably between 75 and 78 kilograms. If I drift above 78, I don’t panic. I simply tighten things up. If I drift below 75, I ask why.
It’s the same philosophy sailors use. You don’t wait until you’re twenty miles off course before touching the helm. Small corrections made early keep you exactly where you intended to go. The body deserves the same quiet attention.
Enough
I’ve spent the past few years writing about enoughism. Originally I meant enough possessions. Enough consumption. Enough work. Enough ambition.
I didn’t realize it also applied to health. Enough strength to be useful. Enough endurance to keep exploring. Enough mobility to kneel, climb, swim, and work. Enough resilience to recover. Not maximum. Enough.
Health isn’t another competition to win. It’s a foundation that lets everything else happen.
The Strenuous Life
I’ve been a member of Brett McKay’s Strenuous Life since 2018. Its motto is wonderfully simple:
Do hard things.
But over time I’ve realized the hard things aren’t the point. Capability is. The Strenuous Life encourages three habits I find increasingly profound.
Move every day.
Be useful to someone every day.
Challenge yourself with something new every week.
Notice what isn’t on that list. There’s nothing about body fat percentage. Nothing about cold plunges. Nothing about macros. Nothing about looking impressive with your shirt off. The emphasis is outward. Become someone capable enough to contribute. That’s a philosophy I can get behind.
My Decision Tree
I’ve been sketching a “Lifestyle Decision Tree.” It’s still rough, but it goes something like this. Before buying another device or supplement, ask simply:
Did you sleep well?
Did you move today?
Did you eat real food?
Did you spend time with people you care about?
Did you help someone?
Did you learn something?
If the answer to most of those questions is yes, you’re probably healthier than someone with perfect blood work who lives an isolated, sedentary, anxious life.
Health is not merely the absence of disease. It’s also the presence of capacity.
The Real Goal
I’m not trying to become the healthiest man in the cemetery. I’m trying to remain capable enough that life stays an adventure. I want to reef a sail in rough weather. Walk cobblestone streets until sunset. Practice martial arts into old age. Write books. Play with grandchildren. Carry my own bags. Help my neighbors.
If maintaining my mitochondria, eating Mediterranean food, fasting occasionally, and staying within a healthy weight make those things more likely, then that’s enough reason. Everything else is just details.
Health isn’t the destination. It’s the ticket that lets you keep saying yes.
All One/Teague
