Forget Healthspan. Midlife Men Face Pressure to Extend ‘Hotspan’

Everyone talks about this one man at a gym I regularly go to in Manhattan. Judging by his face and skin, I think he must be about 60, but he has Tarzan muscles and the kind of six-pack where you can see veins bulging from his lower abdomen. More than once, I’ve heard a friend whisper something like, “Wow, I really I hope I look as good as he does at that age.”

And every time, I look over at those bouldery biceps and think, “My God, I DON’T.” When I’m 60, I want to rest. Sure, I’m possessed by the exercise demons now, but as I get closer to retirement, I don’t want to be drilling myself to death at Barry’s Bootcamp. I don’t want to worry about what I eat. I want to be out of that game completely. Like Galadriel in Lord of the Rings, I want to diminish and recede into the west. After all, isn’t the promise of nearing retirement age that we finally get off the hamster wheel of hustling and competition — and transition to a new, more relaxed phase of life? We were promised margaritas, not counting macros.