Champagne, Checkups, and the Paradox of a Life Well Lived

There’s a piece of art in my uncle’s house that reads:

"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, Champagne in one hand – strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming WOO HOO – What a Ride!"

It’s hard not to love this sentiment. Personally the message resonates with me deeply. There’s joy in the recklessness, a rebellious shrug at the polite austerity of “healthy living.” And yet, being a physician interested in prolonging health and lifespan, I tell my patients something seemingly contradictory—and decidedly less tattoo-worthy:

“Build reserve and delay decline.”

That’s because most of what ultimately takes us down—physically, cognitively, metabolically—isn’t sudden or mysterious. It’s wear and tear. It’s the accumulation of small imbalances over time. Cardiovascular disease, Dementia, Cancer, and Metabolic diseases all take decades to progress and are rapidly accelerated in their trajectory by an unhealthy internal milieu. The good news is that many of these diseases are predictable, their mechanisms well-understood. Better still, they’re modifiable—through exercise, sleep, nutrition, social connection, and managing stress. The boring basics. The unsexy stuff. The hard stuff, too.

But here’s the catch. If you live long enough, no matter how puritanical you were in your health regiments, you’ll almost certainly face the effects of aging. This is when it becomes clear that the VO2 max, 100% sleep performances, and rapamycin dosings are only a part of the health optimization journey. When you meet that moment of aging, how you handle it may depend less on how carefully you preserved your mitochondria, and more on whether you lived in a way that pursued your life purpose.

James Hollis, a Jungian analyst, puts it best in his astute observation of his older clients:

"I have several client's who are between sixty-five and eighty-plus, and I've noticed some interesting phenomena. Those who best handle the aches and the losses of older years are those who have lived the richest, most risk-taking lives. Those who have not are most often caught up in fear, regret, remorse, and a vague dread. It's not enough to say that they dread dying. Rather, they more profoundly dread not having lived more fully first."

-James Hollis PhD "A Life of Meaning"

Thus is a paradox laid before us.

On one end: the thrill of speed, of risk, of saying yes, careening into life fully with minimal regard for the future self. On the other: a padded existence so risk-averse it flattens experience itself.

I wrestle with this—and invite my patients to wrestle with this too.

I think that the key to successfully navigating this paradox is to first identify it as a paradox. This is as opposed to approaching it as 'a problem to be solved'. There is a profound difference in these two approaches. Problems have definite solutions that one can progress to with effort and then they generally stay solved. Paradoxes stand as inherent tensions that don't have solutions and thus must be constantly managed in how we approach them. They are best navigated by being vigilant, contentious, and actively developing wisdom to make choices with limited information.

There’s no app for this, no linear program. It requires something subtler: presence, experience, intention. Knowing when to burn the candle at both ends, and when to stay home from an alcohol infused social obligation to get a good night of sober sleep. When to toast the moment, and when to go for a walk instead.

Living well, it turns out, is not about choosing between Champagne and cholesterol checks. It’s about the thoughtful act of choosing itself, day after day. About tuning your internal compass, knowing it will drift, and reorienting again.

So by all means, strive to preserve what you can. Strength, cognition, metabolic health will all serve you well as you age. These are noble pursuits. But don’t make the mistake of preserving yourself so carefully that you forget to live. Skid in sideways with tires aflame from time to time—AND make sure your knees can still bend when you land so you can pick yourself back up and keep on living.