Exploring the space between science and self.

Tag: health maintenance

Hyperoptimization and Diminishing Returns

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“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.

Health Isn’t Magic — It’s Maintenance

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It’s easy for health to feel almost magical—
as if it lives somewhere between science and superstition.
This is especially true when health products are dramatized and oversold.
We can start to believe that health requires the right spells, potions, and rituals.

But it’s not magic or mystical.

It’s mechanistic.

Witchcraft and wizardry don’t apply.

Now, to be fair—
the human body is incredibly complex. That reality can’t be overstated.
The systems that sustain life in this biological machine are precise, adaptive, and deeply nuanced.
Not perfect—but remarkably capable.

And yet…

The inputs required to support that system are much more pragmatic.
And, at times, a bit boring.
Health doesn’t require perfection.
It requires sufficient input within a functional range.

We don’t need optimized nutrition—
we need nutrition that adequately supports our needs.

We don’t need optimized exercise—
we need movement that supports our function and capacity.

We don’t need perfectly optimized sleep—
but we do need sleep that is consistently sufficient.

One of the most effective ways to understand health—
and to protect yourself from misinformation—
is to view it through a simple lens:

Maintenance.

When people define health, they often say:
“I want to feel better.”
“I want to avoid disease.”
“I want to be around for my grandkids.”
“I want to enjoy life when I retire.”

These are all valid.
But they are outcomes.

They describe what health gives you—
not how it actually works.

A more useful model is this:

Health is vehicle maintenance.

We want our vehicles to be:

  • Functional
  • Reliable
  • Capable of performing when needed
  • And relatively inexpensive to maintain

We understand that if we want those outcomes,
we have to take care of the vehicle:

  • Oil changes
  • Tire rotations
  • Routine maintenance

Not because it’s exciting—
but because it works.

We understand the high-leverage, best practices for maintaining that system.
The same is true for the body.

Whether we like it or not, we inherit responsibility for the system we exist in.
Not by choice.
But we’re here.
Living in this biological machine.

These systems evolved under conditions very different from the modern world, a concept we explored in Primitive Beings in a Modern Age.

And to our knowledge—
we may not get another.

So we must accept the system.
Its strengths.
Its limitations.

And we move forward.

We learn.
We experience.
We grow.
We feel.

We live.

If we want this system to be:

  • Functional
  • Reliable
  • Capable

Then we invest in maintenance.

Sleep, movement, and nutrition
are simply the equivalents of:

  • Oil changes
  • Tune-ups
  • Tire rotations

Different domain—
same principle. Same relationship.

If we provide the right inputs, consistently enough, the system is far more likely to function well.

And here’s where choice comes in.
Not everyone needs—or wants—to maintain their system the same way.

Some people will pursue optimization:
Dialed in. Structured. Precise.

Others will aim for high-quality, consistent basics,
and spend the rest of their time, energy, and attention on other areas of life.

All paths are valid.
There is no universal rulebook.

But there is a reality:

The more you understand what matters most,
the more intentional your choices can be—
and the more likely your energy and focus are able to provide a return on investment.

Context, not commands.

There’s another layer to this.
One that matters just as much.

Mark Manson discusses a useful distinction between fault and responsibility.
Something may not be your fault.
But it is still your responsibility to decide how you respond to it.

You don’t get to choose:

  • Your genetics
  • Your starting point
  • Your environment

But you do get to choose how you interact with those realities.

You’re here. In this system.
So the question becomes:
What do you want to do with it?

The terrain of life doesn’t get easier.
But it becomes more manageable when the system carrying you through it is capable.

So we learn to maintain the machine.

Not out of obligation.
Not out of fear.

But because:

Everyone deserves
functional independence,
quality of life,
and the freedom to pursue meaning, fulfillment,
and the life they want to live.


Suggested reading: Purpose and Burden

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