Zen* and the Art of Body Maintenance

Death is certain, decrepitude is optional

You wouldn’t think of buying a new car and just driving it until it stopped working, would you? For starters, that would void your warranty. The manufacturers make sure you come in to change the oil, and even after the warranty runs out, it’s still a good idea to service your car at the recommended intervals. Do that, and if your car happens to be one of those reliable 90s models, you can practically run it forever.

That’s what my friend is doing. Sometimes I drive his car when he’s away in Europe, and I can’t believe how smooth it still runs, how many adventures it’s seen… and how it feels no worse than any new rental I’ve driven along the way.

Your body isn’t a car. It’s far better. See this post on why. (Spoiler: it can self-repair and even upgrade itself in amazing ways.) But like a car, it still needs regular maintenance. The trouble is, our bodies didn’t come with an owner’s manual. And the fitness industry doesn’t help. It thrives on confusion, recommending the equivalent of changing your engine oil every one hundred kilometres. That wouldn’t hurt your car, just your wallet. But do too much exercise, and you can hurt yourself. Or in extreme cases, die.

You wouldn’t think of not drinking water. Thirst makes sure of that. You wouldn’t forget to eat. Your stomach will remind you, angrily. But exercise? Most people think they can skip it. The problem is that the time horizon for the consequences to arrive is long. So long that many never see the connection.

But make no mistake: not moving your body will kill you, eventually.**

Exercise should be thought of like brushing your teeth: a routine maintenance that everyone needs. The good news is, there’s enough real knowledge out there to piece together a human body’s owner’s manual. I’ve done that for myself. It’s a minimalist one, because I’m lazy. It follows the DSY*** principle, because I’m built like a pianist, not a gladiator. But pianist or gladiator, working parent or grandparent, bullied teenager or busy retiree, we all need a smart way to stay strong and capable, so our bodies can keep taking us on adventures. Much like my friend’s 1992 Toyota.

If what I write about resonates with you… and if you’d like to build strength and flexibility without surrendering your life to the gym, I’m building a course to help you do exactly that. Support me on Buy Me a Coffee for $10 a month, and you’ll get access to the early material that’s already live: 4 Weeks Zero and Weeks One and Two. When the full program’s ready, it’ll be something you buy. Right now, your support helps me build it. Think of this as getting early access to the owner’s manual your body never came with.

Footnotes:

* The “Zen” part? Honestly, that’s mostly BS. But catchy. For a smart and funny look at how this whole “Zen and the Art of…” fad began, check out Shoji Yamada’s Shots in the Dark. It all started with Zen in the Art of Archery, written in the 1920s by Eugen Herrigel, a German philosopher (and later, embarrassingly, a Nazi) who likely didn’t understand a word his eccentric archery teacher was saying, but wanted to be the first to introduce the concept of Zen to the West.

** More about your couch’s murderous intentions and the long game it’s playing in this post.

*** Don’t Strain Yourself.