Compound Interest
Every choice I make today is earning returns, one way or the other.
Most of us understand compound interest when it comes to money.
Save a little.
Invest consistently.
Give it time.
Small decisions become remarkable outcomes.
It took me a while to realize the same thing is true for the rest of retirement.
Especially my health.
A couple of years ago, Sheryl and I flew to Maui for a vacation we’d been looking forward to for months.
Somewhere between Vancouver and Maui, I hurt my back crammed into a WestJet seat.
When the plane landed, I could barely stand up straight.
I wasn’t overly concerned. I figured I’d twisted something. Give it a day or two and I’d be fine.
Instead, every morning I woke up worse than the day before.
I stretched.
I found a chiropractor.
I soaked in hot tubs.
I counted anti-inflammatories.
I did everything I could think of to salvage the trip.
Nothing worked.
For ten days I watched one of our vacations disappear while I concentrated on one thing.
Just getting through the day.
Here’s the part that hurt the most.
The island was still there.
The ocean was still there.
The sunsets were still there.
But I wasn’t.
I wasn’t present.
I wasn’t curious.
I wasn’t exploring.
I wasn’t making memories.
I was simply trying to get through another day without pain.
That flight home gave me a lot of time to think.
Not about my back.
About my future.
I realized something that had never crossed my mind before.
What if my body slowly became the thing that determined which parts of retirement I still got to enjoy?
That thought scared me more than the pain.
The pain eventually disappeared.
The lesson never did.
It wasn’t really my back that frightened me.
It was catching a glimpse of a future where my body started deciding what I could no longer do.
I wasn’t ready to surrender that much of my life.
When I got home, I made myself a promise.
I’m never losing another holiday because my body wasn’t ready for it.
That promise changed what I paid attention to.
I started taking core classes.
Then strength training.
I started walking more.
I paid more attention to what I ate.
Not because I was chasing perfection.
Because I was trying to protect possibility.
We understand compound interest when it comes to money.
We rarely think about compound interest when it comes to health.
Half an ounce less cream in my morning coffee.
Three strength workouts every week.
Choosing to walk instead of drive.
Going to bed a little earlier.
A twenty-minute walk after dinner.
None of those decisions changes your life tomorrow.
But together, repeated often enough, they begin to compound.
One day you wake up a little stronger.
A little lighter.
A little steadier climbing the stairs.
A little more willing to say yes.
One of the unexpected gifts of our Friday morning men’s group has been watching what aging actually looks like.
Every week I sit beside a couple of men in their mid-seventies who can climb ten flights of stairs faster than I can.
They travel.
They hike.
They laugh easily.
They seem genuinely excited about what comes next.
I also know men in their late sixties carrying an extra fifty pounds who quietly tell me, “Everything hurts.”
They’re not looking for perfection.
They’re simply looking for a way back.
Watching both groups has reinforced what Maui first taught me.
Aging isn’t one event.
It’s the result of thousands of small decisions quietly accumulating over years.
Some of that is genetics.
Some of it is luck.
Life will always have the final say.
But our choices matter.
Far more than we sometimes believe.
I still enjoy a great 10-ounce ribeye.
I still love a couple of glasses of wine.
I’ll never say no to ice cream with my grandkids.
This isn’t about becoming obsessive.
Retirement should be enjoyed.
It’s about finding a balance that gives me the best chance of fully living the life I’ve worked so hard to build.
Because retirement isn’t simply about having enough money to say yes.
It’s about still being able to.
Today, the gym isn’t where I go to build muscle.
It’s where I invest in future memories.
The trip to Australia.
The bike ride through Siena.
The next hike with friends.
The next afternoon building sandcastles with my grandkids.
The next ordinary Tuesday that becomes unforgettable simply because I was healthy enough to be fully there.
Compound interest is always working.
Every choice I make today is earning returns.
Because I still have too many memories left to make.
Jim O’Grady writes The Post Game, a newsletter about life in the GoGo years. He lives in White Rock, BC.