I’m the healthiest man my age I know. Granted, there aren’t many of us at this age, almost ten years beyond the life expectancy for American men. And while luck is a factor in my longevity, I claim credit. I work hard to maintain my health. I drink plenty of water, and my diet is primarily vegetables and fruits, with minimal meat and sweets. I sleep far more than most people. And I stay physically fit by lifting weights for more than two hours every other day.
I recognize that my healthy lifestyle would not be possible without substantial income. I retired as early as possible more than thirty years ago from the federal government so that I could write fulltime. The result is six books and 17 short stories now published. My annuity is so generous because I was at the top of the Senior Executive Service when I retired. I got promoted so often because I was willing repeatedly to risk my life on the battlefield providing signals intelligence support to U.S. and friendly forces using the seven languages in which I was fluent. When I became an executive, I led rather than managing, which allowed my subordinates to achieve amazing results.
All that said, I can feel my body slowing down. I need more sleep than I did at my prime. My walk is uneven due to a botched knee replacement surgery some years ago. I move more slowly than I once did, and my memory is becoming unreliable. One’s abilities are debilitated by age.
With one exception: thinking. I find that the older I get, the better my ability to cogitate. That means that my writing, the reason I was put on earth, is better than ever. I am the most fortunate man I know.
So I thrive. As noted here previously, I fully intend to live past a hundred. Evidence thus far suggests that I’ll make it.