Today, I started my journey with peptides.
I'm not trying to be young again; that ship has sailed, and I don't want to go backward. I don't want to be twenty-five again, with the ego, the chaos, the insecurity, the proving and the pretending I knew more than I did.
They arrived yesterday. This morning, I give myself the first two injections. I've never done this before, and I hate needles. That fear has been part of the long lead-up to actually doing it.
Then it's done, and I'm surprised. That's it? I'm almost embarrassed by how much I've built it up. I text Jon: “Fuck, that’s it?” On the show this morning, I'm already talking about starting. I'm excited, and I've got a lot to learn.
I want to be this age, with this experience, these scars, this perspective and this wisdom.
But I want to carry it in a body
that can keep up.
That's the real conversation: strong aging. Anti-aging sounds like we're running from time; strong aging means respecting it, paying attention and asking better questions.
How do I protect my energy, keep my muscle, stay sharp and recover? How do I keep showing up for my kids, my work, my partner, my people and my purpose? How do I make the second half of life a build rather than a decline?
I'm not doing this because I found a magic trick or because someone on the internet told me I should. I'm not here to sell a protocol, a product, a clinic, a stack or a shortcut. I think men our age need a more honest conversation about the body we're living in.
Too many of us wait until the pain is louder, the bloodwork scares us, our energy disappears or we stop recognizing ourselves. We wait until the body forces the meeting. I don't want to wait. I want to participate, understand, learn, test and measure. I want to take ownership.
That word matters to me. Ownership. Not obsession,
vanity or panic—ownership.
Aging is coming either way. Are we going to drift into it, or are we going to train for it?
I've trained for business, endurance, pressure and reinvention. Now I'm training for the man I want to be at 60, 70, 80 and beyond: strong, useful, clear, present and alive, rather than fragile, passive or checked out.
Maybe that's the part I want my peers to hear. I want to stay in the game: climb the stairs without pretending I'm not winded, get on the floor with my kids or grandkids and get back up without making a joke to hide the truth, and walk into a room with energy instead of apology. I want the capacity to lead my family, my business, my body, my mind and my future.
The invitation isn't to peptides specifically, to my path or to anyone else's formula. It's to wake up, get curious and lead yourself. Stop treating your health like a background app running quietly until it crashes, outsourcing your vitality or pretending that tired, inflamed, foggy, stiff and disconnected is just “getting older.” Maybe some of it is. But maybe some of it is neglect, avoidance or the cost of pretending we're fine.
I'm done pretending.
I don't have all the answers. I'm at the beginning, and I'm going to learn out loud. I'll be honest about what I'm doing, what I'm noticing and questioning, what I get wrong, and what I still don't know.
I know I want to age strong. I want to be harder to kill, easier to love and more useful, not less. I want my future self to look back and say, thank you for starting when you did. I'm here to build capacity, to live better rather than try to live forever or chase youth.
If you're my age, near my age, or starting to hear that quiet little voice saying “Pay attention,” maybe this is your nudge too. Not to copy me. To lead yourself.
The next version of you is already being built. The only question is whether you are building him on purpose.
Age Strong.