05/10/2026
What If We Stopped Fighting Ageing?
Perhaps the goal was never to stay young. Perhaps it is to remain capable, independent, connected and able to contribute for as long as possible.
There is probably nothing more unavoidable in life than aging.
Still, we spend an enormous amount of money, time and energy trying to fight it, disguise it and sometimes even pretend it is not happening.
For decades we called it anti-aging.
We tried to remove the wrinkles, cover the grey hair and correct every visible sign that time was passing.
Now the language is changing.
Anti-aging is slowly becoming longevity.
And I have mixed feelings about it.
On one hand, this is wonderful. There is serious research trying to understand how we can live longer and, more importantly, how we can remain healthier for longer.
But sometimes I wonder whether we have really changed our relationship with aging, or whether we have simply found a more sophisticated name for the same fear.
Because what is the point of living longer?
Is the objective really to look 35 when we are 60?
Or is it to arrive at 60, 70, 80 and beyond with enough physical and mental capacity to continue living the life we want?
For me, those are two very different versions of longevity.
Maybe ageing is not the problem
Ageism is normally discussed as something that other people do to us.
Someone decides we are too old for a job.
Too old to start something.
Too old to wear something.
Too old to learn.
But ageism can also live inside us.
Every time we look at aging as a failure, every time we desperately try to prove that we do not look our age, what are we really saying about getting older?
Is it something undesirable?
Something that should be hidden?
The World Health Organization defines ageism as stereotypes, prejudice and discrimination based on age. WHO also talks about healthy ageing very differently from the way much of the wellness industry does.
Healthy aging is not defined by looking young.
It is about maintaining the functional ability to do the things we value.
I find that definition much more interesting.
Can I walk where I want to go?
Can I get up from the floor?
Can I carry my groceries?
Can I travel?
Can I care for someone I love?
Can I continue learning and participating in my community?
Can I continue doing the things that make my life mine?
That, for me, is longevity.
We love the shortcut
The things we already know help support health are not very glamorous.
Eating well.
Moving every day.
Building and maintaining muscle.
Working on our balance and mobility.
Sleeping enough.
Not smoking.
Avoiding alcohol and toxic substances.
Taking care of our relationships and mental health.
Managing the conditions we already have.
None of this sounds revolutionary.
A new molecule is much more exciting.
A supplement.
An IV infusion.
A biological age test.
An injection.
A compound that worked beautifully in mice.
A new protocol followed by an influencer.
Something that gives us the feeling that science has found a shortcut.
And I understand the attraction.
It is easier to buy something than to change our habits.
It is easier to swallow a pill than to start exercising when we have not exercised for years.
It is easier to listen to another three hour podcast about longevity than to go outside and walk for thirty minutes.
That does not mean supplements, medicine or new technologies are useless.
Medicine has transformed our lives. Research should continue. New discoveries will hopefully help us prevent and treat diseases that today we still cannot prevent or treat well.
But new does not automatically mean better.
Expensive does not automatically mean effective.
And complicated does not automatically mean scientific.
Sometimes the strongest evidence is also the least exciting advice.
Maybe that is precisely why we keep looking for something else.
Because the basics require something that nobody can sell to us.
Our participation.
We have more agency than we sometimes want to admit
We cannot control everything.
Genetics matter.
Disease happens.
Accidents happen.
Our economic circumstances, environment, education, work and families matter.
Some people have far more choices than others.
This article is not about blaming someone for becoming sick.
That would be absurd and unfair.
But acknowledging that we cannot control everything should not lead us to pretend that we cannot influence anything.
There is a large space between absolute control and complete helplessness.
That space is where our agency lives.
And sometimes I think we are too willing to give it away.
We blame governments.
Healthcare systems.
Food companies.
Technology.
Our jobs.
Our age.
Our hormones.
Our circumstances.
Sometimes with very good reason.
But at some point we also have to turn our sight inward and ask a more difficult question:
What can I do?
Not what someone else does for me.
What can I do, with the body, resources, knowledge and circumstances I have today?
Maybe it is ten minutes of walking.
Maybe it is learning how to cook one meal.
Maybe it is starting resistance training at 55, 65 or 75.
Maybe it is working on your balance while holding the kitchen counter.
Maybe it is going to bed instead of scrolling for another hour.
Maybe it is asking for help.
Maybe it is finally going to the doctor.
Maybe it is accepting that you are not starting from where you were twenty years ago.
That is fine.
Start from here.
Independence is not individualism
I speak a lot about independence with VeggieGap, and I think this distinction is important.
Independence does not mean that we do not need other people.
We all need other people.
Humans survive because we collaborate.
We raise children, care for parents, teach, cook, listen, help, support and protect each other.
So when I talk about remaining independent, I am not talking about individualism.
I am talking about maintaining as much capacity as possible so that we can continue participating.
I want to remain strong enough to take care of myself so that I have more capacity to take care of the people around me.
I want to remain mobile enough to keep showing up.
Perhaps we can even use some of the ego behind the longevity movement in a more constructive way.
Become healthier.
Become stronger.
Protect your mobility.
Build your endurance.
But not because you are terrified of becoming old.
Do it because there are still people to love, places to visit, things to learn and people who may need you.
What if we became our own heroes?
We constantly read that healthcare systems are under pressure.
Populations are aging.
Costs are increasing.
There are not enough professionals or resources.
These are real social problems and they require collective solutions.
But we are part of that collective too.
We are not spectators.
What would happen if maintaining our capacity became something completely normal throughout adulthood?
If strength was not about having a certain body, but about being able to stand up from a chair, carry a suitcase or get ourselves off the floor?
If balance was something we trained before we started falling?
If movement was simply part of life?
If looking our age stopped being considered some kind of personal failure?
Maybe taking care of ourselves could become more than an individual wellness project.
Maybe it could also be a contribution to society.
Not everyone can prevent illness.
Not everyone will remain independent.
And all of us will need help at different moments of our lives.
But if those of us who can preserve more of our capacity do so, perhaps we also preserve more collective resources for the people and moments when that help is truly needed.
That is not selfish.
I think it is the opposite.
Technology is advancing. Are we?
Technology has advanced at an extraordinary speed.
Sometimes I wonder whether our humanity is advancing at the same pace.
We have more information than any generation before us.
More medical knowledge.
More technology.
More data.
More ways to measure ourselves.
And somehow, we can still feel completely disconnected from our own bodies and from one another.
Maybe longevity should not only ask:
How can we add more years to life?
Maybe it should also ask:
What are those years for?
For me, longevity without purpose is not very interesting.
I want health because I want to move.
I want to learn.
I want to help.
I want to eat with people I love.
I want to walk somewhere beautiful.
I want to remain curious.
I want to make my own decisions.
I want to participate.
I do not want to defeat aging.
I want to age with as much capacity as I can reasonably preserve.
There is a difference.
There is still hope.
There is still time.
And there are still many people who can decide to make things a little different and perhaps a little better.
Maybe you are one of them.
You do not have to become younger.
You do not have to become perfect.
You certainly cannot control everything.
But you can start looking at what is still yours to influence.
Maybe being our own hero does not mean saving ourselves from aging.
Maybe it means taking responsibility for what we can, accepting what we cannot, and building enough capacity to keep showing up for life and for one another.
This is where VeggieGap starts
VeggieGap was not created to make women look younger.
I am not interested in telling women that ageing is something they need to correct.
And I am certainly not interested in adding another impossible standard to the already very long list of things women are told they should be.
VeggieGap starts from a different question:
What do you want to remain able to do?
Food is part of that.
But food alone is not enough.
Our independence is built from many systems working together.
Muscle.
Bone.
Balance.
Mobility.
Endurance.
Power.
Nutrition.
Sleep.
Recovery.
Mental and social wellbeing.
That is why VeggieGap combines plant rich food with simple everyday routines through the VeggieGap Path.
Not to stop aging.
Not to prove that aging has somehow failed to reach you.
Just to help you look at where you are today and ask:
What can I do now to support the life I still want to be living years from now?
Start there.
Not with perfection.
Not with fear.
With what you can influence.
That is where VeggieGap starts.
