I had been having a shitty six months since the end of last year. I felt like I was getting old and my body was falling apart. Little things annoyed me more than ever. I would cramp up on hikes when I had never cramped before. I was embarrassed by how weak I had become when I went hiking with friends. I wanted to do proper adventures, but I couldn’t.
My body was falling apart, and I had accepted it as, “Getting old sucks.”
Then I started snapping at little things that would never have bothered me before. I would find myself yelling into the phone at customer service reps and almost picking fights with random strangers who I felt were annoying me. I felt like something was wrong with me. This wasn’t me. I was losing control, and I was getting scared.
I didn’t mind hurting random strangers. They probably deserved it, or I would find some justification for it. But I didn’t want to turn this behavior toward my family.
Then I remembered Dave’s post about male hormone issues. I went online and took a couple of self-assessment tests for low-T, or male menopause. Sure enough, many of them recommended getting tested.
So, as always: “WWDW—What Would Dave Do?”
I booked an appointment at a men’s clinic to get my blood work done.
Two weeks went by while I waited for the results. I was 100% sure all of my problems were related to aging and my testosterone dropping. So I went in to get my results, and the clinic rep said:
“Your T levels are fine. As a matter of fact, they are at the level of someone in their early 30s. That doesn’t usually happen for people your age.”
I’m 55.
“This means your levels have only dropped to those of someone in their early 30s, so you have no issue with low-T. However, your blood sugar levels are worrying. We are not equipped to diagnose this properly and would suggest that you see a specialist.”
Well, fuck.
This didn’t go the way I was expecting.
So I went to see a “specialist.” I told the doctor that I had been advised to see a proper specialist because of my blood work, and I gave them a copy of the results.
The doctor looked at the numbers and said, “Hmm...yeah, but this can’t be right. Let’s do a proper test.”
So, more blood tests.
And the results?
They were worse. My numbers had gone up significantly.
The doctor said, “You are diabetic, but more than that, you are in a dangerous range. People with these numbers are not walking around. They are in a hospital getting treatment. How are you not symptomatic?”
I had no idea.
According to the doctor, it looked like I had become diabetic over a decade ago, and my body had simply gotten used to it.
I have done ultra-long walks, including two 100K, 24-hour walks. I climbed Mt. Fuji in one day, and so on.
The doctor told me to make immediate changes to my diet and to do no strength training, only light cardio. I was told to focus on low to no carbs, no sugar, no snacks, no fruit, and no soda, at least for the first month while I was put on medication.
One month later, at my monthly checkup, I got my blood work done again. The doctor said:
“This is almost someone else’s blood work. You must have made drastic changes to your lifestyle.”
And he was right.
I stopped eating all the things I had been told not to eat. The hardest part was “no fruit.” I love fruit. An ice-cold watermelon on a hot summer day, some grapes and berries on my yogurt, and so on.
But no fruit.
I stopped eating white rice, white bread, pasta, noodles, and most types of carbs. Carrots became my go-to. Yes, I know they’re not the “best” option, but that was the compromise I ended up with.
I started preparing my meals ahead of time again, like I used to meal prep when I was training in my early 20s. Tupperware containers of boiled eggs, chia seeds, hummus, and so on.
I started using a continuous glucose monitor, or CGM, to watch how different types of food would spike my blood sugar levels. I vibe-coded an entire system to monitor my nutrition, training, blood sugar levels, and everything else.
The one rule set by my doctor that I did not follow was the instruction to “continue with the cardio I was already doing.”
I increased the distance and frequency, but not the intensity. No HIIT training—just low-intensity exercise for longer periods and more frequently.
I hated running on the treadmill, but I have fallen in love with it. I’ve found that it’s a nice, Zen way to run. I get on, set the speed, crank up the volume on my earphones, pick a spot on the wall, and just tune out and run.
I started with 15-minute sessions, which gradually grew in length. I now usually run for 30 minutes to an hour, depending on how I feel that day.
I’m not breaking any speed records. I’m sure there are people who can walk at the speed I jog, but I’ve come to love that one hour of me time.
I lost some weight, but more than that, I have come to like the process. I like being challenged.
However, my goal isn’t simply to get healthier. This might sound contradictory, but my goal is to become healthy so that I can die peacefully.
I lost some close people whom I considered friends and mentors over the last couple of years. Many of them did not go peacefully. They struggled at the end.
I don’t want that.
I want to go out like a fuse blowing, not like a candle melting away and making a mess.
The problem with diabetes is that it doesn’t make you sick right away—at least, not like some other diseases. Instead, it lays the foundation for complications that make living harder.
That is why I am training now: to control my situation so that I can remain in control.
So, how do I feel these days?
Once I knew what the problem was and started dealing with it, my body began to feel lighter. My mood is definitely better, and I am able to keep my cool.
I haven’t been back to the mountains yet, but I am focusing on building the foundation I need so that I can return to the mountains safely.
So yeah, I am one of those people whose life was saved by “Dave.”
Epilogue: How all of this caused an "incident" at the airport...
I wanted to thank Dave for literally saving my life. I knew Dave was all about “airsoft, pew pew, fam time,” so I put together a John Wick special package: a 2011 Sand Viper airsoft gun, a Hotel Continental access card, some gold Continental coins, and a pencil.
I put all of it in a hard case and packed it in my checked luggage. I checked my bag and went to the lounge to chill.
About 30 minutes later, an airline representative came up to me and told me that the local police wanted to talk to me because it looked like I had a “gun” in my checked luggage.
I told them it was an airsoft gun, but sure, I would show them and clear up the confusion.
I was escorted to a “special room.” There was an airport employee with my bag and seven local police officers.
I opened my suitcase and pulled out the hard case.
Now, this is where it became even more “my DEF CON life.”
A friend of mine had asked me to bring him some Japanese saws because one of his had broken. So when they opened my suitcase, there was the hard case containing the airsoft gun. Next to it were three large wood saws and a Wi-Fi Pineapple with a sticker that said, “This is not a bomb.”
On top of all of that was the infamous yellow DEF CON Shoot “Securitay” shirt.
So yeah, my suitcase looked like it belonged to a contract killer going out on a job.
I explained the significance of the Sand Viper, the pencil, the coins, and everything else. I showed them clips from John Wick and explained the entire franchise to the cops.
I told them to go back and watch the movies, and then they would understand the card and the coins.
They took a bunch of photographs, sent everything to their lab, and waited for clearance.
An hour later, everything was good. They let me go, with my suitcase all packed up again.
The airline staff looked properly annoyed. Meanwhile, the cops were talking about watching John Wick.
And that’s how I triggered an airport-wide alert.
But I blame Dave—both Kennedy and the other Dave (yea you D A V E ) — and my DEF CON family.
Today, I finally got to hand over the case and thank Dave Kennedy for saving my life.
The stuff that caused the "Security Incident at the airport"..... muh bad...
I also got a new tat , to remind me why I train.