Exploring the space between science and self.

Tag: environment

Hyperoptimization and Diminishing Returns

🟡

“The perfect is the enemy of the good.” — Voltaire

Sometimes the pursuit of health starts to shift focus.

We begin by wanting to feel better. More energy. Less pain. Better mobility. Improved labs. More experiences. More years with the people we love.

These are reasonable goals.

But somewhere along the way, many people drift from pursuing health toward pursuing optimization. Those are not always the same thing.

Modern health culture often creates the impression that every variable and topic deserves equal attention. Every ingredient, every supplement, every meal timing strategy, every recovery tool, every environmental exposure, and every new biological “hack.”

But the human system does not weigh everything equally.

Some variables matter tremendously.

Others matter only slightly—if at all.

The difference between sleeping four hours and sleeping eight hours.

The difference between being sedentary and moderately active.

The difference between eating mostly nutrient-dense foods and eating mostly ultra-processed foods.

These are among the highest-return investments we can make in the health of the human system.

Yet once our foundational needs are reasonably met, the return on additional optimization often begins to shrink.

Not because nuance is meaningless. Not because marginal variables are useless.

But because our biology appears to reach a point of diminishing returns.

The foundational improvements tend to create the largest changes. Later improvements often require more effort for increasingly smaller outcomes.

This pattern is not unique to health.

The difference between no maintenance and routine maintenance on a vehicle is enormous.

The difference between routine maintenance and elite performance modifications is comparatively small.

Yet modern health culture frequently convinces people that the performance modifications are the priority.

This inversion creates confusion.

People begin obsessing over electrolyte packets, supplement stacks, peptides, cold plunges, seed oils, greens powders, red light therapy, and countless other strategies that promise incremental improvements.

Experimentation on top of a foundation of fundamentals is perfectly reasonable.

Deprioritizing adequate sleep, regular movement, sound nutrition, stress management, and other foundational behaviors in favor of that experimentation is not.

We also must consider the cost of optimization.

Every health strategy requires an investment of time, money, energy, attention, or mental bandwidth. As those investments grow, we should continually ask whether the benefits are truly worth what they displace.

Sometimes they are.

Often, they probably aren’t.

The body is influenced by nuance, but it is governed by fundamentals.

And unfortunately, fundamentals are difficult to market.

Sleep is not exciting.

Walking is not exciting.

Managing stress is not exciting.

Eating enough protein and vegetables is not exciting.

Consistency is not exciting.

These things are simple, repetitive, and often unremarkable. There is no secret knowledge attached to them. No exclusive club.

Marginal optimization, however, feels advanced. It creates endless discussion. Endless products. Endless content. And endless opportunities for monetization.

There was a demand for optimization, and naturally, a market emerged to meet it.

This is where the topic can easily start to sound cynical or conspiratorial, but that’s not necessarily the case. It’s simply the reality created by the right combination of variables.

As discussed in Back to the Primitive: Swapping Intensity for Intent

These systems didn’t emerge from a singular malicious intent.

They are the natural result of:

  • Consumer preference
  • Technological advancement
  • Economic incentive

This is where many people unknowingly become trapped. Not necessarily in poor health behaviors, but in the psychological burden of excessive optimization.

This happens when our perspective causes us weigh everything equally.

Diminishing returns are not just physiological.

They can become psychological. Logistical. Financial. Social.

A strategy that provides a tiny physiological benefit may simultaneously increase stress, consume time, create anxiety, complicate schedules, strain relationships, or reduce enjoyment of life.

At that point, we have to ask an important question: Is the tradeoff worth it?

Because health does not exist in isolation from life.

The purpose of health is not to become imprisoned by routines, fear, or perfectionism.

The purpose of health is function. Freedom. Resilience. Presence.

The ability to participate more fully in life.

Optimization becomes problematic when the pursuit itself begins consuming the life it was meant to improve. It can also become self-perpetuating as people lose sight of the difference between foundational practices and marginal refinements.

This idea echoes Goodhart’s Law: “When a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure.”

Health metrics are useful because they point us toward better health. But when optimizing the metrics becomes the primary objective, it’s easy to lose sight of why they mattered in the first place.

This does not mean nuance is irrelevant.

Elite athletes may care deeply about marginal gains. Certain medical conditions may require highly specific strategies. Some people genuinely enjoy optimization as a hobby.

There is nothing inherently wrong with that.

But for most people, the overwhelming majority of meaningful health outcomes are likely driven by foundational variables:

Sleep.

Movement.

Nutrition.

Stress management.

Relationships.

Purpose.

Avoiding major destructive behaviors.

These are the big rocks.

Everything else exists around them, like sand and pebbles that fill in the spaces between the monoliths.

Modern wellness culture often sells the final 5% as though it were the first 95%.

But most people would experience dramatically greater benefit by improving the fundamentals they already know matter.

Not perfectly. Just consistently.

Because the goal is not perfect health.

The goal is to build a life that health supports—not one that health consumes.

To use health as a means of better experiencing life.

Sometimes the healthiest thing we can do is stop trying to optimize every variable and start living the life our health was meant to support.

After all, the perfect is often the enemy of the good.

Back to the Primitive: Swapping Intensity for Intent

The initial layer of friction we experience in the modern health environment is mismatch.

Our biology evolved over hundreds of thousands of years…
while our environment has changed rapidly in just the last century or so.

We are, in many ways, still operating on ancient wiring—
in a world that no longer resembles the one that shaped it.

But mismatch alone doesn’t fully explain how this feels.

Because the modern environment didn’t just change.

It intensified.

When the Volume Gets Turned Up

We exist in a world of access and amplification.

Food is no longer simply available—it’s engineered to be highly rewarding.
Entertainment is no longer occasional—it’s constant and personalized.
Stimulation is no longer intermittent—it’s continuous.

What used to feel like calm water…
has become a series of strong currents—
and we’re still learning how to move through it.

The Biology We Bring Into This

For most of human history, reward was a guide.

Sweetness and fat signaled energy and survival—fuel in a world where fuel was scarce.
Novelty signaled opportunity—the pull toward something new and potentially valuable.
Connection signaled safety—protection through numbers.

These weren’t luxuries.

They were signals.

At the center of this system is dopamine—not just as a pleasure chemical, but as a driver of motivation and reinforcement.

It helps us learn:

What is worth repeating?

When Reward Becomes Engineered

Modern systems have learned how to interact with these pathways through continuous refinement of what people respond to.

Food is consistently upgraded and engineered to maximize appeal.
It can now be designed to hit precise combinations of salt, sugar, fat, and texture.

The concept of the “bliss point,” developed by Howard Moskowitz, reflects this—identifying the formulation that drives the highest level of enjoyment and repeat consumption.

These foods are not just satisfying.

They are efficiently rewarding.

Easy to eat.
Easy to repeat.
Easy to overconsume.

Historically, reward required effort.

You had to move, search, scavenge, prepare, and wait.

Now, many rewards are:
Immediate
Passive
Endless

You can experience dozens of reinforcing inputs in minutes:

Scrolling
Snacking
Drinking
Watching

Individually subtle.
Collectively significant.

Digital Overstimulation as the Default

The modern environment rarely goes quiet.

Notifications.
Screens.
Background noise.
Constant input.

The result is subtle, but meaningful:

  • Mental fatigue
  • Reduced attention capacity
  • A sense of always being “on”

Not because something is wrong…

but because the system rarely gets a chance to downshift.

This Isn’t a Villain Story

It’s easy to frame this as manipulation—and we often do.

It’s a reasonable assumption.
But it misses the full picture.

These systems didn’t emerge from a singular malicious intent.

They are the natural result of:

  • Consumer preference
  • Technological advancement
  • Economic incentive

Food is optimized for taste and convenience.
Technology is optimized for engagement.

As explored in works like Salt Sugar Fat by Michael Moss, there is awareness within industries of how these factors influence behavior—but that awareness exists within a broader system shaped by demand as much as design.

As much as we like to have a scapegoat, this is less about blame.

And more about interaction.

When Intensity Meets Biology

When you place a biological system designed for variability and scarcity into a high-intensity environment, certain patterns emerge.

Not as failure.

But as adaptation.

  • Overconsumption becomes easier
  • Hunger and fullness cues become less reliable (or more easily ignored)
  • Reward sensitivity shifts, requiring more for the same effect
  • Attention becomes fragmented, and recovery becomes less complete

The system is doing what it was designed to do.
It’s just doing it in a different environment—at a much faster pace.

The environment changed faster than adaptation can reasonably occur.

Reframing the Experience

Many people interpret this as a personal shortcoming.

“I should have more discipline.”
“I need to try harder.”
“I just need to control myself.”

But that removes context.

A more accurate interpretation might be:

I’m operating in an environment that is more intense than what I’m naturally equipped to regulate.

That shift doesn’t remove responsibility—but it restores clarity.

It allows us to see the actual terrain we are navigating.

Back to the Primitive

Not as a rejection of modern life.
But as a recalibration within it.

It doesn’t mean abandoning human progress.

It means reintroducing the conditions your biology expects—
within the reality you live in.

Swapping Intensity for Intent

The goal is not to eliminate stimulation.
It’s to stop being passively shaped by it.

To move from automatic and overwhelmed
to aware and deliberate.

To become reacquainted with choice.

Not perfectly. Just more often.

A quiet, steady awareness running in the background.

Where This Begins

Not with restriction.

But with noticing.

  • Am I actually hungry, or seeking reward?
  • Did I choose this, or is it just routine?
  • What does this input actually provide?
  • Does this help the future version of me?

These aren’t rules.

They’re moments of awareness.

Context—not commands.

Small interruptions in an otherwise automatic flow.

Enjoyment is not the enemy

But being consumed by it can be.

Reintroducing Pause

Friction often feels like inconvenience.

But it can also be a regulator.
Deliberate deceleration.
A pause between impulse and action.
A moment where intention has a chance to exist.

Not as punishment.

But as space.

A space to explore choice.

A space to decide, rather than simply react.

A space to step outside the reward loop—
and allow agency to re-emerge.

So that we may swim…
rather than be pulled under by the current.

A More Accurate Standard

You were never meant to operate at this level of intensity all the time.

And the fact that it feels difficult…
is not a flaw.

It’s feedback.

Closing Thought

The modern world didn’t just give us more.

It made everything faster, easier, and more stimulating.

“Back to the primitive” isn’t about going backward.

It’s about remembering what your system was built for…

and choosing to meet it there as we move forward—

in a way that makes sense for you.

Primitive Beings in a Modern Age

The first disconnect.

🟡🟢
We exist as primitive beings in a modern age, and we face a unique challenge: thriving in an environment that changed faster than our biology could adapt.

As we established in the last post—Purpose & Burden—maintaining health requires effort.

While this is true, it doesn’t make it any less unfortunate.

We have to go out of our way to learn:

  • How to sleep
  • How to move
  • What to eat

And in many ways, we are the only species that has to do this.
The only animal that has to consciously figure out how to take care of itself.

This raises a fair question:

Why?

It’s easy to assume something is wrong with us.

A lack of discipline.
A lack of knowledge.
A lack of consistency.

But the issue runs deeper than that.

We are out of place.

A common analogy is a fish out of water—something removed from the environment it was built for.
Awkwardly flopping on dry land.
Cursing the air.

But that’s not quite right.

We’re not gasping on land.

We’re still in the water.

The water has just changed.

For most of human history, life required:

  • Regular physical movement
  • Exposure to natural light and darkness
  • Real, whole, minimally processed food
  • Effort tied directly to survival

Our food came from a plant or a mother.
We moved to build, to hunt, to gather, to protect.
We slept in rhythm with the sun. Darkness was only penetrated by firelight—not bright, artificial light that stimulates the brain and delays rest.

Our physiology was shaped in that environment.

Not over decades.

Over hundreds of thousands of years.

Then, in what is essentially a blink of an eye on that timeline, everything shifted.

The first Homo sapiens appeared roughly 300,000 years ago.

Our biology—our need for movement, nourishment, rest, and recovery—has remained largely the same.

But the environment we live in has changed dramatically in roughly the last century:

  • The rise of ultra-processed, highly convenient foods
  • A shift toward sedentary, desk-based work
  • The introduction of artificial light and extended waking hours
  • A culture that increasingly prioritizes productivity and output

The scale of that shift is difficult to grasp until you zoom out.

As Yuval Noah Harari notes in Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind, since the 1500s:

  • Human population has increased roughly 14-fold
  • Energy consumption has increased 115-fold

We’ve created a completely different environment.

And yet…

Our biology is largely the same.

Food is no longer something we seek.
It’s something that surrounds us.

Movement is no longer required.
It’s something we have to choose.

Sleep is no longer governed by the sun.
It competes with artificial light, stimulation, and modern demands.

In a very short period of time, we became:

Overfed, but undernourished
Stimulated, but exhausted
Connected, but often disconnected from ourselves—
from our nature and primitive needs

And then we ask:

“Why is this so hard?”

It’s not just you.

It’s the world that surrounds you.

We have become a product of our own advancement—
living in an environment shaped by convenience, efficiency, and technological growth.

But this doesn’t mean modern life is the problem.

It has given us safety, longevity, and opportunity that previous generations never had—especially when compared to our primitive past.

But it does mean this:

The environment no longer supports health by default.

Which means health is no longer automatic.

It requires intent.

Reconciling the Disconnect

This isn’t about rejecting modern life.

It’s about reintroducing the conditions your body still expects.

Not perfectly.
Not obsessively.
But consistently.

That might look like:

  • Choosing foods that resemble their original form more often than not
  • Getting exposure to natural light, especially early in the day
  • Reducing light and stimulation later at night
  • Building movement back into daily life—not just what we do in the gym
  • Creating small boundaries in an otherwise boundaryless environment

These aren’t advanced strategies.

It isn’t about obsession or optimization.

It’s simply a return to baseline conditions.

The foundation.

Because when those basics are in place, we’re in a much better position to experience:

  • More stable energy
  • Improved sleep
  • Easier appetite regulation
  • Movement that feels more natural

Not because we’ve “hacked” our biology.

But because we’ve stopped working against it.

Where This Goes Next

This is only the first layer.

Because it’s not just that the environment has changed…

It has intensified.

And that changes how our brain, behavior, and biology respond in ways that are far less obvious.

That’s where we’ll go next.

© 2026 Abstract Health

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑