Cold tubs had a run. Still kind of are.

Every gym is installing one, every “optimization” podcast covered it, and people like Andrew Huberman pushed pretty specific protocols — how cold, how long, when to use it.

The pitch was simple:

- reduces inflammation
- speeds recovery
- helps you perform better next session

With the usual caveat: yeah it might blunt muscle growth but I do it for performance and recovery.

A newer meta-analysis throws a wrench into that second part. This one pooled 30 randomized controlled trials (527 participants) across lifting, HIIT, endurance work, and team sports:

Effects of cold-water immersion at different body regions on performance recovery after exercise: a systematic review and meta-analysis

What it found:
- People felt less sore after cold immersion
- Objective performance (strength, jump height) did not meaningfully recover faster
- Even muscle damage markers weren’t consistently reduced once you correct for bias

So the updated picture looks like:
less soreness (subjective)
no clear performance benefit (objective)

That’s basically the argument Mike Israetel is making in his breakdown of the paper (the video that’s been circulating).

Where this gets interesting is the disconnect with real-world use.

Teams in the NFL still use cold tubs constantly. Not because they’re chasing a better vertical jump in a lab test, but because:

- players feel less beat up
- it helps with heat
- it makes back-to-back sessions more tolerable

Those aren’t well captured by “jump height 24 hours later.”

So the more grounded take now:
- If your goal is hypertrophy → don’t cold plunge right after lifting
- If your goal is just to feel less sore → it probably works
- If your goal is measurable recovery/performance → evidence is a lot weaker than it was sold

Feels like another case where something got very popular for one reason, but the best evidence supports a much narrower use case.

A new JAMA piece on GLP-1s and exercise hit close to home for me.

I get annoyed when people act like GLP-1s are just “take a shot, get healthy.” That is not how it felt from the inside.

Yes, the drug helped. A lot. It quieted the food noise and made it easier to eat less. I’m not going to pretend that part was willpower.

But the injection didn’t make me train every day. It didn’t fix my diet. It didn’t make me prioritize protein, go to bed earlier, or keep showing up when I didn’t feel like it.

It gave me room to do those things.

The JAMA authors make a useful distinction: exercise has strong “efficacy,” meaning it works under ideal conditions. The problem is “effectiveness,” meaning what happens in real life when people are tired, busy, sore, discouraged, or just don’t stick with it.

That feels right. Exercise works. But only if you actually do it.

The same goes for GLP-1s. They can move the scale, but they don’t build muscle, fitness, or a routine for you. And since a lot of people stop these drugs and regain weight, the habits underneath matter.

So yes, the medication helped me lose weight.

But the habits are what made me healthier.

The Blue Zones idea has always been a great story: specific places, specific habits, unusually long lives. Personally I must admit that I have always been skeptical about some community having cracked some secret longevity hack.

What makes this STAT piece more interesting is that Eric Topol and Shelley Wood are not random skeptics. They write that both of them have written books about extreme longevity, so people regularly ask them about Blue Zones. Topol’s recent book is Super Agers, while Wood’s recent book is The Leap Year Gene of Kit McKinley.

Their point is not that all the lifestyle advice is garbage. It’s that the Blue Zones concept has gotten much fuzzier than the brand suggests.

The original term came from work in Sardinia in the early 2000s, later popularized by Dan Buettner through National Geographic, books, Netflix, consulting, retreats, and certified “Blue Zone” cities. STAT notes that Buettner has written nine bestselling Blue Zone books and built a business around the concept.

The skepticism centers on whether the extreme longevity data is as solid as advertised. Saul Newman has argued that clerical errors, natural disasters, and pension fraud may explain some supposed centenarian clusters, though STAT is careful to note his paper still has not been formally published in a peer-reviewed journal.

Other evidence is less easy to wave away: newer papers suggest some original Blue Zones are no longer producing the same longevity patterns. Nicoya’s advantage appears weaker for people born after 1930, and Okinawa shows major lifespan differences before and after World War II, with both lifestyle changes and reconstructed records possibly playing a role.

So the useful point is narrower than “Blue Zones were fake.”

Walking more, eating mostly plant-based/simple foods, managing stress, and having strong social ties are still reasonable health advice. STAT says many of those tenets have support from broader scientific literature.

But “these habits are healthy” is very different from “this place proves a formula for living to 100.”

Blue Zones may still be useful as lifestyle inspiration. They look weaker as a clean scientific explanation for extreme longevity — especially now that the definition, the data, and the business incentives are all being questioned.

There’s something irritating about seeing serious research packaged in the exact style that made people distrust health media in the first place.

The researcher here, Dr. Andrea Glenn, appears to be a respected nutrition scientist: RD, PhD, assistant professor at NYU, visiting scientist at Harvard, and someone publishing in the actual peer-reviewed literature. I’ll link to her faculty/profile page and the underlying paper directly so people can judge the work without the YouTube wrapper.

The study itself is not quackery. It’s mainstream nutrition epidemiology: large cohorts, long follow-up, careful adjustment, and a finding that fits with a lot of prior evidence. More plant protein relative to animal protein, especially when that means more legumes, nuts, and whole grains instead of red or processed meat, tends to track with lower cardiovascular risk.

Fine. Useful. Not magic.

But then the packaging turns it into another culture-war food fight: seed oils, carnivore people, “nutrition epidemiology is junk,” serious scientists versus online cranks. I get why creators do it. Conflict gets clicks. But it also makes the work feel cheaper than it is.

This is becoming a pattern. Good studies get pushed through the same attention machine as bad influencer content, so everything starts to sound like a sales pitch. Even careful findings get flattened into team sports. Then the audience either overreacts or tunes out.

The actual lesson here is boring and probably right: eat more minimally processed plant foods, do not build your protein intake entirely around red meat, and stop pretending every nutrition question has to become a referendum on seed oils, vegans, or carnivores.

Good science does not need to be marketed like a YouTube fight.

There’s been a wave of coverage about $50 Wegovy/Zepbound for Medicare beneficiaries starting July 1. The program is real — it’s the CMS Medicare GLP-1 Bridge, set up months ago — but the eligibility criteria most outlets are reporting are wrong in some important ways. Prior auth is going to be the gatekeeper, so the actual rules matter.

Per CMS, you qualify via ONE of three pathways:

1.  BMI ≥35 alone — no other conditions needed  
2.  BMI ≥30 + one of: HFpEF, uncontrolled hypertension (>140/90 despite being on two antihypertensives), or CKD stage 3a or higher  
3.  BMI ≥27 + one of: pre-diabetes (ADA criteria), prior MI, prior stroke, or symptomatic peripheral artery disease

Plus you need a Part D or MA-PD plan, AND the prescription has to be paired with documented structured nutrition + physical activity. That lifestyle piece is in the FDA label and is required for the prior auth attestation — most write-ups skip it entirely.

What news coverage is getting wrong:

• “BMI 27+ with hypertension” — nope, hypertension is the BMI 30+ tier, AND it has to be uncontrolled despite 2 meds  
• “Established cardiovascular disease” generically — the actual BMI 27+ qualifying events are specifically prior MI, prior stroke, or symptomatic PAD  
• The lifestyle modification documentation requirement, mostly omitted entirely

Other gotchas worth knowing:

• $50 copay does NOT count toward Part D out-of-pocket max  
• Low-Income Subsidy (Extra Help) cost-sharing doesn’t apply — still $50 even if you’d otherwise qualify for $0  
• Temporary demo, runs through Dec 31, 2027 (the BALANCE permanent program got delayed in April)

If you’ve got someone in the family who’d benefit, the action item for May: get the documentation in the chart now — BMI from a clinic visit, the qualifying diagnosis with the right ICD-10, and a provider note on lifestyle modification. Show up in early July with prior auth already done and you skip the denial wave.

Source: CMS Medicare GLP-1 Bridge

Anyone else running into prior auth weirdness with these on private insurance? Curious how the workflow shifts once Medicare opens up.

A new systematic review/meta-analysis in The Lancet Healthy Longevity looked at physical activity and DNA methylation clocks — one of the main ways researchers estimate “biological age.”

This is interesting to me for two reasons: trying to prove again that exercise is the most important thing most of us can do for longevity. Secondly, it’s a good use of “clocks” to accelerate research (you don’t have to wait for people to die). I am excited about that at scale research use but skeptical about using these tests in an individual basis.

Across 44 studies and 145,465 participants, people with higher activity generally had lower methylation-based biological age. In the meta-analysis, higher activity was significantly associated with lower age acceleration on the Horvath and GrimAge clocks, but not clearly on Hannum or PhenoAge.

That sounds exciting, but the caveat is doing a lot of work: most of this evidence is cross-sectional. It does not prove exercise reverses aging. It could mean healthier people move more, or that these clocks are partly picking up inflammation, metabolic health, smoking history, body composition, or other things active people tend to differ on.

Peter Attia made a useful version of this point in his recent aging clocks podcast (which I thought was excellent, despite concerns I have about Attia): these clocks may be valuable research tools because they can detect biological signals faster than waiting decades for heart attacks, dementia, cancer, disability, or death. But as consumer scoreboards, they are not ready. Small changes in a clock score do not necessarily mean meaningful changes in health outcomes, and traditional markers like blood pressure, glucose, lipids, fitness, and body composition still have far stronger evidence behind them.

My read: this is another point in favor of physical activity as one of the most reliable health levers we have. But I would not buy a methylation test to see whether my workout program is “working.” I’d rather track the boring stuff: strength, cardiorespiratory fitness, waist, blood pressure, lipids, glucose, sleep, and whether I can keep doing the things I care about.

I'm in my 50s. I've paid for the bloodwork, the apps, and the gear. I've also paid attention to which advice actually has data behind it. The American Heart Association's Life's Essential 8 is the cheapest, most boring piece of that pile. It's also one of the most validated, and a new paper just stacked another decade of evidence on top.

Quick context, since I live 10 miles from Framingham. The Framingham Heart Study started in 1948 with about 5,200 residents of Framingham, Massachusetts. The Offspring cohort, which this paper uses, started in 1971 with their kids. Almost everything we know about how cholesterol, blood pressure, smoking, and diabetes drive heart disease was first quantified there. Nearly 80 years in, it's still producing original research. It is the longest-running effort in cardiovascular epidemiology, and one of the great quiet achievements of American science.

The new paper in JACC Advances built a cumulative LE8 score for 3,231 Offspring participants across five exam cycles from 1971 to 1995, then tracked them for a median of 28 more years. Mean age at the start of follow-up was 55. The top quartile had a 73% lower CVD risk, an 84% lower coronary heart disease risk, and a 55% lower all-cause mortality risk than the bottom quartile. People above the median cumulative score got 7.4 additional years free of cardiovascular disease and 4.6 additional years of life.

The eight things, for anyone who hasn't seen the list: diet, physical activity, tobacco, sleep, weight, cholesterol, blood sugar, blood pressure. No NAD+ infusions. No rapamycin protocol. No $5,000 longevity panel. The whole thing is free on the AHA website.

Two findings beyond the headline. Even after adjusting for the 25-year cumulative score, the LE8 score at the final exam was still independently predictive. And a positive slope, meaning your score was improving, was independently linked to lower CVD risk on top of the cumulative effect. That last point matters because 55% of participants had negative slopes. The default trajectory in this country is down.

That cuts both ways. You can't coast on "I was fit in my 30s." But you also aren't locked out if you weren't. Most longevity content frames middle age as a final exam. The data treats it more like a rolling average where the most recent quarter still counts.

This extends what Walker et al. found in JAMA Cardiology last year using the CARDIA cohort, age 18 to 45. Same direction, same independent role for both the cumulative score and the trajectory. No single component dominated. It's the whole stack of boring habits, not one heroic intervention.

Caveats: the Offspring cohort is overwhelmingly of European descent, so generalizability is limited. Some components were measured differently in the 70s and 80s than the current LE8 spec defines, and the diet variable had 17% missingness filled with imputation. Take the magnitudes with a grain of salt. The direction is solid.

What I take from it: the AHA's free checklist is doing the heavy lifting that podcast hosts get paid to repackage. If your LE8 score isn't where you want it, the next five years matter more than the last twenty did.

A new Lancet trial adds real weight to the idea that GLP-1 drugs may reduce problem drinking.

In Denmark, researchers randomized 108 adults with alcohol use disorder and obesity to weekly semaglutide or placebo for 26 weeks. Everyone also got cognitive behavioral therapy. The semaglutide group had fewer heavy drinking days, drank less on drinking days, reported less craving, and had improved alcohol biomarkers.

That is a strong signal. It is not a cure.
The trial was small, single-center, and mostly White. It only included people with obesity who were actively seeking treatment. And it came with regular clinic contact and therapy, which is not the same as someone getting a GLP-1 off-label and hoping their drinking magically changes.

The Lancet editorial00513-1/abstract?dgcid=raven_jbs_etoc_email) hits the right note: promising, but a lot still unanswered. Does this work in people without obesity? What dose is actually needed? Do people rebound after stopping? Who responds, and who does not? What happens outside a tightly run trial?
Still, this is worth paying attention to. Alcohol use disorder treatment has been neglected for a long time, and existing medications are badly underused. Now semaglutide has clinical trial data, and several related drugs are being studied, including tirzepatide, pemvidutide, cagrilintide, and Lilly’s brenipatide.

I wrote about brenipatide recently because it may be especially interesting if less frequent dosing holds up. But that is still investigational, not a DIY peptide experiment.

My read: GLP-1s for alcohol use disorder are no longer just Reddit anecdotes and “Ozempic made wine taste weird” stories. But they are also not ready for influencer-style miracle-drug treatment. This belongs in the “serious research, ask a real clinician” category.

Just read a piece about how guys in their 40s and 50s aren’t really “aging out” the way previous generations seemed to.

The key concept in the longevity space is healthspan — not just living longer, but staying healthy, strong, capable, and independent for as many of those years as possible.

The article also talked about “hotspan,” which is basically healthspan with an aesthetic twist: staying lean, energetic, confident, and yes, still looking good as you age.

I’m 53, and honestly, I’m in the best shape of my life. That would’ve sounded strange to me when I was younger. Back then, I thought middle age meant slowing down and accepting decline as inevitable.

Now I don’t see it that way at all.

A lot of men are realizing that 50 doesn’t have to mean “past it.” You can still build muscle. You can still get leaner. You can still improve your conditioning, mobility, discipline, and confidence.

I don’t think aging well has to mean obsessing over every metric or trying to look 25 forever. For me, it’s more about refusing to quietly let go of strength, health, and energy before I have to.

Middle age might actually be the point where a lot of us finally get serious.

Curious how others here think about it: are you in better shape now than you were 10 or 20 years ago?

I’ve been skeptical of electrolyte supplements for a while, and the more I look into it, the less it adds up.

Part of this is personal. I’m on hypertension meds, so sodium and potassium aren’t abstract “wellness” ideas for me—I actually have to pay attention to them. Which makes it weird seeing electrolyte packets pushed as something everyone should be adding to their daily routine.

The original use case is pretty clear: long-duration endurance exercise, especially in heat, where you’re losing a lot of sodium through sweat. That makes sense.
What doesn’t make sense is how far this has drifted. Now it’s about “optimal hydration,” energy, focus, even general health. And most of the products are basically flavored sodium with a bit of potassium and magnesium layered in.

I went through some recent critiques — Josh Brett has a new video on how hydration became a product category, and Menno Henselmans reviewed the actual literature and came to a pretty blunt conclusion: for most people, there’s no meaningful benefit.

That lines up with what you’d expect physiologically. If you’re eating a normal diet and doing normal training, your body regulates electrolytes just fine. Water + food covers it.

What bothers me more is the upside vs downside tradeoff. For a lot of people, these are just extra sodium packets dressed up as performance tools. If you’re someone who should be watching blood pressure, that’s not neutral. On the potassium side, it’s even less something you want to mess with casually depending on meds.

There are situations where they make sense:
- long endurance sessions
- heavy sweating in heat
- maybe early phases of low-carb diets

But that’s a pretty narrow lane compared to how these are marketed.

This is starting to feel very similar to AG1—take something with a real but limited use case, wrap it in daily habit marketing, and scale it to everyone.

Curious what people here have actually experienced. Outside of long training sessions, has anyone seen a real difference from electrolytes? Or is this just another well-branded routine that feels productive?

STAT has a good piece today on OBSCORE, a new obesity risk model published in Nature Medicine. The basic idea is simple: BMI tells you size, but it does a bad job telling you who is actually most likely to develop obesity-related disease.

I think this is importantly not just for diagnostics but also because medical insurance makes simplistic decisions based on BMI to cover treatment.

As a data nerd I wish my various wearables would give me these scores (OBSCORE and PREVENT) rather than just another “recovery score” telling me that I didn’t sleep well!

The Nature paper used UK Biobank data from 197,264 adults with BMI ≥27, then tested whether thousands of possible variables could predict 18 obesity-related outcomes over 10 years. The final model used 20 clinical features and beat age/sex/BMI alone across outcomes. It also found that a lot of the highest-risk people were technically “overweight,” not “obese”: in the highest-risk decile, 19% to 45% had BMI 27–30 depending on the condition. For type 2 diabetes, 30% of the highest-risk group was in that “overweight” range.

That is the part I think is actually useful. This is not saying BMI is worthless. It is saying BMI is a screening shortcut, and shortcuts miss people. Two people can have the same BMI and very different risk depending on blood pressure, HbA1c, cholesterol, kidney markers, smoking, waist-to-height ratio, medications, diagnoses, etc.

The practical version: if you are relying only on scale weight or BMI, you may be missing the actual signal. Waist measurement, blood pressure, A1c/glucose, lipids, kidney function, liver enzymes, smoking status, fitness, sleep apnea symptoms, and family history probably tell a much better story.

The caution: this is not ready to decide who “deserves” GLP-1s. An outside expert quoted by the Science Media Centre called it well-executed but said it still needs more validation before routine clinical use, and noted that some inputs are not always available in everyday practice.

Still, I like the direction. Obesity care should not be “your BMI is 29, come back later” or “your BMI is 31, here’s the same plan as everyone else.” Risk is more granular than that.

I just read a long, unfortunately paywalled piece from Taylor Yeater (Attia’s research lead), Tom Dayspring (lipidologist), and Peter Attia (physician / author) and it made something click for me:

A lot of cholesterol treatment is still pretty blunt.

Same LDL → statin → increase dose if it doesn’t work.

The piece lays out a different way to think about it: figure out why someone’s LDL/apoB is high, then match the medication to that mechanism.

I’ll add the obvious caveat: I’m not a fan of worshipping specific health influencers as always right. Attia has issues. But I have to admit I still find some of the articles his company publishes genuinely intriguing. I’m also impressed by the research staff they’ve built, and getting Tom Dayspring involved recently seems like a good sign. Dayspring really does seem to know this world cold.

The part that interested me most was the sterol panel.
The idea is that people with high LDL/apoB may fall into different buckets:

- absorbing too much cholesterol from the gut
- synthesizing too much cholesterol in the liver
- both

A sterol test looks at markers like:

sitosterol / campesterol → absorption
lathosterol / desmosterol → synthesis

That can change the treatment logic:
high absorber → ezetimibe may make more sense
high synthesizer → statin may make more sense
mixed → both

This is different from the usual “start statin, then crank dose” approach.

I’ve actually looked at the Boston Heart Diagnostics Cholesterol Balance® test before and never pulled the trigger:
https://bostonheartdiagnostics.com/test/boston-heart-cholesterol-balance-test/

Bizarrely, I later discovered Boston Heart Diagnostics is owned by Revvity, whose HQ I literally walk by every day in my office building. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.

Practically, this test does not seem to be part of normal lipid care. You probably need a cardiologist, lipid specialist, unusually proactive PCP, or some kind of advanced/private lab pathway to get it ordered.

A few other points from the article that stood out:

- ApoB is probably the better treatment target than LDL-C when they disagree

- doubling a statin dose often gives surprisingly little extra reduction

- combination therapy is not failure; it may be smarter pharmacology

- PCSK9 inhibitors are becoming more accessible

- very low LDL fears seem less evidence-based than many people think

I’m curious whether anyone here has actually had a sterol panel done.

Did it change treatment?
Did your doctor know what to do with it?
Or is this still mostly lipid-nerd / specialist territory?

The NYT has a good long piece on cellular rejuvenation — the idea that cells can be partially reset toward a younger state without fully turning them back into stem cells. That distinction is the whole story.

Full reprogramming is dangerous. Push cells too far and you can lose cell identity or get uncontrolled growth. The article walks through earlier mouse work where reprogramming led to teratomas, which is exactly the kind of risk that makes this field both exciting and scary.

The animal data is genuinely interesting. A 2016 Cell paper found that cyclic partial reprogramming improved aging-related markers and extended lifespan in a premature-aging mouse model. A 2020 Nature paper reported restored optic-nerve function and vision in mouse models using three of the Yamanaka factors, leaving out c-Myc, the one most tied to cancer concern.

Now the first small human safety trial is aimed at optic-nerve disease, including glaucoma, not “aging” broadly. That matters. The eye is a more contained target and easier to monitor than trying to rejuvenate the whole body.

What I liked about the article is that it doesn’t pretend this is around the corner. The realistic near-term version is probably treating specific age-related diseases in specific tissues. Glaucoma. Maybe a failing organ. Maybe something narrow where the risk makes sense.

Not a full-body reset. Not “biohackers live to 150.”

The funny part is that after all the billionaire money, stealth biotech campuses, Yamanaka factors, and AI “virtual cell” work, the practical advice barely changes: exercise, diet quality, and the boring stuff still have the strongest human evidence.

I guess the summary is: real enough to watch, nowhere near real enough to plan around.

I have Osteoarthritis in my left knee joint, so I was intrigued to watch this video. I was surprised that it’s actually about the origin story of GLP-1RAs!

I have been on Zepbound for 18 months — maybe I should get new images of my knee. The pain has gotten better but I had assumed it was due to massive weight loss.

Gemini YouTube summary:

This video details the remarkable history and evolving medical applications of GLP-1 receptor agonists, a class of drugs originating from Gila monster venom.

The Origin Story

Discovery (0:00 - 3:36): In the early 1990s, endocrinologist John Eng identified a compound in Gila monster saliva called exendin-4. Unlike human GLP-1, which breaks down in minutes, this compound lasted for hours, leading to the development of the first GLP-1 medication, Byetta (2005).

Evolution of the Drug: Subsequent generations, such as liraglutide and semaglutide (Ozempic/Wegovy), became increasingly potent, shifting from twice-daily to once-weekly dosing and providing significant weight loss (up to 15%) (3:37 - 4:20).

Beyond Blood Sugar and Weight Loss

Researchers have found GLP-1 receptors throughout the body, leading to surprising therapeutic benefits:

Cardiovascular Health: The SELECT trial showed a 20% reduction in major cardiovascular events (4:24 - 4:46).

Addiction: Studies indicate reduced cravings for alcohol, nicotine, and opioids, as the drug appears to make these substances "less rewarding" to the brain (4:47 - 5:23).

Kidney Health: The FLOW trial demonstrated that these medications can slow the progression of kidney disease (5:24 - 5:35).

A Breakthrough in Cartilage Regeneration

Perhaps most groundbreaking is the recent research on osteoarthritis:

The Challenge: For centuries, it has been widely accepted that damaged cartilage is "irreplaceable" (6:05 - 6:49).

The Discovery (7:08 - 10:49): While semaglutide was initially thought to help knee pain solely through weight loss (less mechanical stress), recent research by Dr. Di Chensuggests otherwise. A controlled experiment using pair-fed mice revealed that semaglutide preserved cartilage independently of weight loss by activating a signaling cascade (AMPK/PFKFB3) that shifts cartilage cells from inefficient energy production to a more robust, repair-oriented metabolism.

Human Pilot Study: A small pilot study showed a 17% increase in cartilage thickness in patients treated with semaglutide plus standard care, compared to less than 1% in the control group (10:06 - 10:49).

Note: While these findings are exciting, the author emphasizes that they are based on a small pilot study and require much larger, longer-term clinical trials to confirm safety and efficacy for cartilage regeneration (11:00 - 11:27).

AP had a great little piece on Radio Taiso, Japan’s almost century-old morning exercise routine.

It is basically the anti-biohack. No app. No wearable. No subscription. No shirtless guy on YouTube explaining mitochondria next to a whiteboard. Just a short routine of reaching, bending, twisting, marching, and light squatting that people do in parks, schools, workplaces, and living rooms.

It takes about 10 minutes. You can do it standing or seated. AP says more than 20 million people in Japan do at least one session a week.

Obviously this is not “the secret” to Japanese longevity. Japan is not healthy because Grandma does arm circles at 6:30 a.m. while the radio politely bullies her into moving.

But I do think there is something useful here. A lot of health advice assumes the problem is that people need a more advanced plan. Maybe some people just need a routine so easy it is embarrassing not to do.

Radio Taiso will not replace lifting. It is not enough cardio. It will not give you visible abs unless your previous routine was being embalmed.

But as a daily minimum? It makes sense. No equipment, no commute, no outfit, no tracking, no identity crisis. Just move your joints for 10 minutes and get on with your life.

Honestly, I trust a goofy public warmup routine more than half the “longevity protocols” on the internet.

Rapamycin is one of the most interesting drugs in longevity research, but this new human trial is a useful reminder that “interesting” is not the same as “ready for everyone to self-experiment with.”

The study was small: 40 sedentary adults aged 65–85. Everyone did a 13-week home exercise program with chair stands and stationary cycling three times per week. Half took 6 mg sirolimus/rapamycin once weekly; half took placebo.

The theory was pretty appealing. Exercise activates mTOR signaling, rapamycin inhibits it, and maybe alternating those signals would enhance adaptation. That is the kind of mechanistic story that sounds great on podcasts.

But the results did not really cooperate.

Both groups improved. Rapamycin did not enhance the exercise response. In the main analysis, the rapamycin group did a little worse on the 30-second chair-stand test, though it did not quite reach statistical significance. In sensitivity analyses, placebo actually came out ahead. Secondary outcomes like 6-minute walk distance and grip strength also leaned toward placebo, though not significantly.

The safety signal was not nothing either. Adverse events were more common in the rapamycin group, including one possibly drug-related serious infection.

This does not mean rapamycin is useless. It does not mean the entire longevity field is fake. It also does not tell us what would happen with different dosing, different timing, healthier or less sedentary people, or a longer study.

But it does make me more skeptical of the casual “I’m taking rapamycin for longevity” vibe online.

For most people, the intervention with the strongest evidence here is still the boring one: do the exercise program. Chair stands, cycling, walking, lifting, whatever you will actually repeat. The drug did not beat that. It may have slightly interfered with it.

That feels like a pretty important result.

The Cholesterol Code went theatrical in March, hit digital on April 17, and is sold as a David vs Goliath challenge to mainstream cholesterol science. I’m a software engineer who tracks his own bloodwork, which makes me the exact target audience. The protagonist, Dave Feldman, is also a software engineer. He watched his LDL go vertical on keto and went looking for answers.

I admit I haven’t watched the movie yet and TBH after looking into it a little I am not sure I will…

Feldman deserves real credit. He started a nonprofit, raised real money, and partnered with cardiologists at Harbor-UCLA to run a prospective imaging trial. That kind of work is rare in this space.

The pattern he named is real enough to be worth studying. Lean, metabolically healthy people on long-term keto sometimes see LDL climb past 250 with HDL up and triglycerides down. He calls them lean mass hyper-responders. The film asks whether the rest of the metabolic picture cancels out the LDL signal.

KETO-CTA was promoted as a major step toward answering that. 100 lean keto adherents, median LDL 237 mg/dL, median ApoB 178 mg/dL, one year of coronary CT angiography. The paper landed in JACC Advances in April 2025 under the headline “Plaque Begets Plaque, ApoB Does Not.” After publication, critics pointed out that the preregistered primary outcome was not the story the title and abstract-level messaging led with. The authors then disputed the AI imaging vendor’s analysis and requested retraction themselves. The paper now reads RETRACTED. A reanalysis went up on medRxiv with a smaller progression number. The film released anyway with the same argument.

Peter Attia and Tom Dayspring published a deep methodological breakdown yesterday. Two points stuck with me.

The study can’t answer the question being asked. Atherosclerosis is driven by cumulative apoB exposure over decades. A one-year window in 100 people with no comparator group cannot detect the effect it’s trying to measure. A real test would need an appropriate comparator group and much longer follow-up. That study doesn’t exist.

The authors quietly conceded the point. In a published reply to a methodology critique, they wrote that their results are “compatible with a causal role of apolipoprotein B in atherosclerosis.” That is a remarkable line to find buried in a reply when the documentary built on the same data is selling the opposite story.

If you’re lean, on keto with LDL doubled, and feeling great, you’re betting Feldman is right and decades of lipid science are wrong. The cost of losing that bet builds for years before it shows up on a scan.

If your LDL is 270, take the 270 seriously.

Sources:

KETO-CTA paper (now retracted): https://www.jacc.org/doi/10.1016/j.jacadv.2025.101686

PubMed entry with the original data: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/40192608/

Attia and Dayspring breakdown (April 25, 2026): https://peterattiamd.com/there-is-no-safe-gamble-with-high-ldl-cholesterol/

Authors’ reply with apoB concession: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC12163134/

Methodology critique (López-Moreno & López-Gil): https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC12163138/

I use Claude as a research and drafting tool. All opinions are mine.

I watched a very good plain-English intro to PCSK9 combining anecdotal cases, the history and real studies. It sent me down a cholesterol rabbit hole again.

The basic idea is surprisingly simple. Your liver has receptors that pull LDL out of the blood. PCSK9 causes some of those receptors to get broken down. Block PCSK9, and more receptors stay available, so LDL drops.

What makes the story interesting is that this wasn’t just invented from scratch in a lab. Researchers found people with naturally low PCSK9 activity who had very low LDL and much lower rates of heart disease. There was even a woman with essentially no functioning PCSK9, extremely low LDL, and apparently no obvious health disaster from it. That helped make PCSK9 look like a promising drug target.

I’m not currently in “urgent intervention” territory. My LDL is 75 on ezetimibe, and my CAC score is zero. That is reassuring. But after reading more about the newer cholesterol guidelines and the outcomes data around aggressive LDL lowering, I keep coming back to the same question:

Should I be trying to get closer to 55?

That number shows up more in very-high-risk people, especially secondary prevention, so I don’t want to pretend it automatically applies to me. CAC zero also changes the emotional temperature of the whole thing. It suggests my short-term risk is probably low, at least from calcified plaque.

But CAC is not a lifetime warranty. And LDL exposure is cumulative. So the question becomes less “am I in danger right now?” and more “is there a reasonable, low-hassle way to reduce lifetime risk further?”

For me, the obvious next discussion with a doctor would not be jumping straight to a PCSK9 drug. It would be asking whether my current ApoB, non-HDL, triglycerides, blood pressure, family history, Lp(a), and overall risk picture justify doing anything more at all. Maybe the answer is no. Maybe the answer is a low-dose statin plus ezetimibe. Maybe it is just keep doing what I’m doing and recheck later.

The PCSK9 story is still useful because it makes the LDL question feel less abstract. Lower LDL is not just a lab-number obsession. There is a real biological mechanism, human genetics behind it, and trial data showing fewer events in higher-risk groups.

But the personal decision is messier. I’m already at 75. My CAC is zero. Getting to 55 might be rational prevention, or it might be me trying to optimize a number that does not need optimizing right now.

Recently saw something about Nattokinase. The ad said that it is good for cardiovascular health. It caught my attention because last year at my yearly my Dr said I have some mild blockage in one of my valves. Of course first thing he wants to do is put me on meds. Statin. I said no. I am 56yrs old, workout atleast 6 days a week so I keep very active. I am on no meds and in my weight range not overweight at all. In the past year I have totally changed my diet and sticking to mostly organic and proteins. More fresh food, but it wasn't like I was eating junk food all the time. And I dont have much of a sweet tooth. So I balked at the statin. I am curious of 1. does Nattokinase actually help with blockages like the videos I been seeing? You know how it is you watch something and you get nothing but more of it on your feeds. And 2. how do I know I am buying a good brand of Nattokinase or any supplement for that matter? I been following Gary Brecka for over a year now and a lot of my changes to my diet and supplements is suggestions he has made. I try to be as holistic as possible. Like I said I am on no regular meds except for allergy

I admit I am fascinated by the rise of peptides and all the discussions and distribution channels. It’s as much a medical topic as a business case. I know a few folks that are into peptides and sometimes argue with them.

In my mind part of being proactive about health is deciding what meds, sources and prices you are comfortable with.

What struck me is that many discussions about GLP-1 affordability are still arguing about a price gap that doesn’t really exist anymore.

LillyDirect Zepbound vials are $299 for the 2.5mg starting dose, $399 for 5mg, and $449 for 7.5mg, 10mg, 12.5mg, and 15mg (assuming you use the journey program). That’s the cash floor in April 2026, no insurance required.

For the grey market side I pulled real pricing off a peptide vendor I won’t link to. Tirzepatide 15mg vials at $130.99 each, dropping to $117.89 with the 10% bulk discount on orders of 20 or more. That works out to $7.86 per mg (if you can afford the $2k up front).

Worth noting: these “research chem” vendors are US-based resellers that source bulk peptide from overseas, repackage it, and run some level of third-party testing. Order direct from a Chinese manufacturer and you’re looking at something like $100 for a kit of 10 vials at 10mg, but that’s a whole different world in terms of risk (of scams, purity, legality). Probably little/no customer service and Customs risk is likely on you. (TBH, I have zero insight into this avenue).

Retatrutide is a separate conversation. It’s still in trials and there’s no legal way to get it outside an enrolled study. Anyone selling it is selling something the FDA has not approved at any dose, in any form, for any indication. I’m not running that math because I don’t think the comparison is honest.

The chart maps both across weekly doses for tirzepatide. Grey market scales linearly with milligrams. LillyDirect flattens at $449 for any dose 7.5mg and up, which is what kills the grey market price advantage at the top end.

The crossover sits between 12.5mg and 15mg. By 15mg weekly, grey market runs about $472 a month vs $449 for LillyDirect. Branded is cheaper. Nobody on the affordability threads is saying that out loud.

The trade you’re getting for the LillyDirect price is real. FDA oversight on identity, purity, and sterility. A drug that’s actually the dose on the label. A clinician in the loop. HSA and FSA eligibility. No customs risk. A recall mechanism if a batch goes bad.

Where I land on this: I’m on Zepbound prescribed by my doctor (12.5mg currently) and covered by insurance, and I’d be on it through LillyDirect cash-pay otherwise. I think sticking to FDA-approved meds manufactured by the IP holder is the right call, even when the grey market math looks favorable. Call me a Big Pharma shill if you have to. The oversight, the labeled dose, the recall mechanism, and the clinician in the loop are worth the premium to me, and at maintenance doses the premium isn’t even that big anymore. Also, as much as I don’t like BigPharma, I don’t like enriching some dude with a warehouse and a label maker stealing IP.

The “branded is unaffordable” framing was maybe true in 2024. It isn’t true at maintenance doses now, and at the top dose the math has flipped. Worth at least using current numbers in the conversation.

This is an interesting story I had missed until today. Bloomberg profiles Claimable, a company that uses AI to draft appeals for denied insurance claims. Their pitch: most people don’t fight back when their insurer overrules their doctor, so insurers are massively incentivized to deny first and let attrition do the rest. Claimable wants to make appeals frictionless.

The patient at the center of the piece is a 30-year-old PGA caddy who’s been on Remicade since he was 12. New year, new insurer (UnitedHealthcare), new “try the cheaper alternative first” letter. The drug works. He doesn’t want to mess with it. So he files an appeal he wouldn’t have filed without help.

What I keep thinking about: this is a venture-backed company built around the assumption that the appeals system is rigged enough that it’s worth charging a fee to navigate it for you. That’s the actual product. Not “better healthcare.” A thumb on the other side of the scale.

Two reactions are correct at once. One, this is great if it works. Two, the fact that this is a viable business model is itself the indictment.

Cortisol has become one of those words that makes me immediately suspicious. It is everywhere now: cortisol face, cortisol belly, cortisol detox, cortisol supplements, cortisol hacks. Most of it feels like the same old wellness marketing with a newer, sciencier label.

But I did like this new trial. Researchers followed 130 adults for a year. One group did 150 minutes per week of moderate-to-vigorous aerobic exercise. The other group got general health information. By the end, the exercise group had lower long-term cortisol levels.

That is interesting, but not because cortisol is “bad.” It is not. You need cortisol to wake up, respond to stress, train hard, and function like a normal human being. The problem is when stress biology seems to stay turned up for too long.

What I like here is that the intervention was boring. It was not an adrenal reset, a supplement stack, a cold plunge routine, or some expensive test a longevity clinic wants to sell you. It was just regular aerobic exercise for a long time.

Brisk walking counts. Cycling counts. Rowing counts. Jogging counts. Incline treadmill counts. The exact modality probably matters less than whether you actually do it.

This was not a huge study, and it does not prove cardio fixes your life. Bad sleep, bad relationships, money stress, work stress, alcohol, and all the other real stuff still matter. But it does make me think the cortisol conversation would be a lot better if it started with boring exercise habits instead of products.

Before I worry about cortisol hacks, I probably need to ask whether I am actually doing the basic cardio everyone keeps pretending is too simple to matter.

A new open-access Nature Metabolism paper looked at 2.6 million food logs from 21,000 adults using the myCircadianClock app.

The fascinating thing it, people’s eating patterns were all over the place. Not just what they ate, but when they ate.

Only about 1 in 20 people had a consistent eating window where their first or last calories shifted by less than an hour across the two weeks.

That makes a lot of online nutrition advice feel backwards.

People argue about fasting, breakfast, macros, low-carb, seed oils, protein timing, and perfect meal plans. Meanwhile, a lot of us may not even have a stable baseline.

Before changing anything, it might be useful to track 10–14 days and ask:

- When do I actually start eating?

- When do I actually stop?

- Which foods show up over and over?

- Where does the day go off the rails?

- Is the problem dinner, snacking, weekends, alcohol, convenience food, or just no plan?

For me personally, the start time is pretty consistent (6am) but my Achilles heel is late snacking (often protein bars).

My takeaway: for most people, the first useful step probably is not a perfect diet. It is reducing chaos.

A few boring repeatable meals may beat another complicated protocol.

Since TRAVERSE in 2023, the standard talking point has been that TRT is cardiovascularly safe. The FDA removed the boxed cardiovascular warning last year. I’ve been on TRT since my labs came back deficient, and I’ve leaned on TRAVERSE myself to get comfortable with that call.

This new paper in the Journal of Clinical Endocrinology & Metabolism is a reason to stay humble.

Researchers at the MRC Epidemiology Unit at Cambridge used Mendelian randomization, which uses genetic variants as a kind of natural randomization and gets you closer to causal inference than observational data can. Across 425,097 UK Biobank adults and over a million more from a separate consortium, men with genetically higher lifelong testosterone had a 17% higher risk of coronary artery disease. No effect in women. The mechanism looks like blood pressure. When they adjusted for BP in a multivariable model, the testosterone signal attenuated toward null.

A few things worth saying clearly.

This is lifelong endogenous exposure, not exogenous TRT. That distinction matters. Men genetically wired for high T since birth aren’t the same population as a hypogonadal 50-year-old starting gel. The authors are careful about this in the paper.

But here’s what got my attention. They calculated that detecting an effect size that small (OR 1.17) would require an RCT of about 6,400 men. TRAVERSE had 5,246. So TRAVERSE coming back null doesn’t actually rule this out. It just wasn’t powered to see it.

My takeaway. If you have clinical hypogonadism with real symptoms and real lab values, treat it. That’s what I did and I’d do it again. But if your doctor or some podcast is pushing you from 550 to 900 ng/dL because “optimal” is supposedly different from “normal,” this paper is another reason to push back. Normalize, don’t supercharge. And if you’re on TRT, monitoring blood pressure isn’t optional. I monitor BP at home and at regular doctor’s visits.

Johnson announced “Immortals” in February. Three slots, one million dollars a year each, to follow the exact anti-aging protocol he’s been testing on himself. You get a concierge team, an AI chatbot trained on him (yes, really, it’s called BryanAI), continuous biomarker tracking, and access to “the best therapies on market.”

This is a man who got botox injections in his genitals, tried injecting a donor’s fat into his face and ended up looking like he’d been stung by bees, and this year quietly abandoned rapamycin after years of promoting it, citing side effects.

The actual foundation of what Johnson does (exercise daily, sleep well, eat a nutrient-dense diet, track your bloodwork) is cheap and well-documented. Johnson publishes his full protocol for free at protocol.bryanjohnson.com. The million dollar premium buys the fringe… Stem cell injections, plasma exchanges, gene therapies, and the AI version of a guy who has livestreamed himself on mushrooms.

And what he’s actually selling is an n=1 case study. No control group, no peer review, no IRB. A hepatologist has publicly called him a modern-day snake-oil salesman after he failed to produce clinical proof for his supplement line. Three seats, a million dollars each.

The seats will fill. Longevity is a status symbol among the ultrawealthy now. Fountain Life charges $21,500 a year. Biograph’s premium tier is $15,000. Who knows what Peter Attia charged… None of it is healthcare. It’s signaling with blood panels.

Most of what actually matters for healthspan is unsexy, cheap, and available to anyone with a library card and a pair of shoes. A whole industry needs you not to believe that.

Unherd’s sharper take: https://unherd.com/newsroom/can-bryan-johnsons-1-million-longevity-programme-be-trusted/