Four Surprising Secrets to Being in the Best Shape of My Life at 40

Hint—It has nothing to do with drinking less beer or spending your life at the gym.

I like the guy I see in the mirror these days. I recently wrote a reflection about turning 40, and a part of it was wondering what 10-year-old me would think of 40-year-old me—living in a beach town in Mexico with my dogs, playing music for pesos, and chasing a dream project.

I think he’d respond with a combination of weird and awesome. I also think little me would be most pleased that I kept myself in shape.

This photo feels very representative of life on the Oaxacan coast, jaja.

As a kid growing up in Wisconsin, where the cheese grows on trees, I struggled mightily with my weight. I was a naturally gifted athlete, and even though I spent hours on a practice field (mostly soccer) every week, I struggled with my fitness. I was always a bit chubby, always in the midst of a fierce internal battle between food cravings and wanting to be skinny so girls would like me.

I ballooned to 235 pounds the summer after my sophomore year in high school because a close friend got a job at a loosely run pizza and sandwich joint.