I spend time looking at data about my body lately – recovery scores, heart rate variability, strain, steps, and sleep -since I started wearing the Whoop band. These numbers are useful, especially as I age with atrial fibrillation and rheumatoid arthritis in the mix. They keep me honest about what my heart and joints can support. Early on I argued with the Whoop coach about what I could do despite the numbers. I wanted to keep doing what I had been able to do. I slowly learned that often (more than I liked) the coach was right; but that occasionally I understood my body and what was causing those numbers in a way the coach didn’t at first.
Now, we’ve achieved a growing respect. I know that if certain numbers come up for me, I better listen and take it easier than I want to. But as you know, existence isn’t just heart, lungs, and joints. It’s also mind and spirit, and those rarely fit neatly on a graph.
In my younger years, “success” mostly meant achievement: getting things done, hitting goals, pushing a little harder. Now, success looks quieter. It is being present for the people I love. It is having enough energy to walk the dog, cook dinner, do a bit of yoga, or go in my studio and paint or write. A happy evening with friends is a definite plus. What success is not now is being flattened for three days because I tried to act like I was thirty-five or forty-five again.
The stress showing in my numbers hasn’t disappeared; if anything, the load has changed shape. There is a constant background of health concerns, medications, doctor visits, caregiving, weather swings that my joints and heart don’t like, and recently deciding my part-time job is too stressful for me right now. The “story” around that stress, though, is different than it was when I was younger. It is less “How do I prove I can manage all of this?” and more “How do I live well inside all of this?” Part of the answer to that is sharing my journey with those reading this blog and seeing that we are not alone in the journey of aging. Part of that is looking for possible new treatments for these conditions such as the Vagus nerve implant mentioned in an earlier blog.
No wearable health device can tell me if I’m living in line with what matters to me. It can show that my breathing rate is up, or that sleep has been short, or that my nervous system looks overtaxed. What it can’t show is whether I am using my limited energy on the right things: relationships, creativity, faith, rest, simple joy.
So, I’ve started using the numbers as “conversation starters” instead of bad news. They’re an opportunity for me to ask questions, give my considered opinion, and check in with my own body about how it feels.
- A red recovery is not a moral failure (but boy, I hate to see that red come up); it’s my body saying, “Something’s heavy right now.” The real question is: What’s heavy? Is it worth it? What can I lay down?
- A week of lower strain numbers doesn’t mean I’ve become lazy; it might mean I chose phone calls with family, or time to think, or just quiet, over chasing steps. Sometimes that’s the wisest possible “training” decision. It may not mean lazy, but I’ve had to learn neither is it a permanent backslide. It’s taking care of what I’ve been given. It’s made me realize how much I absorbed that philosophy of “do”, “work’, “produce” when growing up. I’m beginning to think an afternoon spent reading a good book is well spent.
- A decent recovery after a gentle week doesn’t have to be an invitation to overdo it; it can be permission to keep going at a sustainable pace.
As I age, I’m learning that “mind and spirit need training, too”. Not in the sense of forcing myself to be positive, but in practicing a different posture:
- Curiosity instead of harsh judgment when the numbers aren’t what I hoped. I have plenty of curiosity.
- Gratitude on the days when my body lets me do the small, ordinary things I care about.
- Willingness to redefine progress: not “faster and more,” but “steadier, kinder, and still here.”
The data tells me how my body is carrying my life. Only I can decide whether my life is aligned with what matters most to me.
That, to me, is where soul and statistics meet. I let the numbers inform me, but in the end I’m the one that has to live my life, meet commitments, and find moments of joy. It’s a matter of balance. I have to be willing to back off some days while picking up the standard, keeping living and exercising, and doing the things I love where possible. I hope that “slower” is a temporary slot for me, or do I? Maybe it is my opportunity to savor life.