On birthdays

Today finds me questioning why we celebrate each complete circuit around the Sun. Something we can no more control than the day we were actually born. And yet so much fuss is made of it. I’ll admit to being much more at the Eyeore end of the spectrum, though I do hope to receive more than a burst balloon and an empty honey jar.

It doesn’t help that my big day is no longer as big as once it seemed. I’ve had a bit of a strange run of birthdays in recent years. My wife was away for two of the last three; and whilst I am airing grudges, I still am getting mileage about my parents not taking me out of school on my 10^th birthday 3 ½ decades ago. The other thing that doesn’t help is that you are expected to work and do all the normal adulting stuff.

One aspect that troubles me less is the age. Whilst the number ticks up on the odometer of my life with each passing year, it’s just a number. It’s unavoidable. This attitude may seem odd given I have just written a book about ageing and death. The central conceit of which is that I have somehow passed a tipping point from youth into middle age.

But one of the things that researching Live Forever made me realise is that since time is passing and there is nothing we can really do to reverse the onset of ageing there is very little point in worrying about it.

So, where does this leave me? Well geographically I found myself on my own exploring Kraków, the day after sitting in a slightly too hot room, reviewing scienece with an eminent professor from the Baltics who for some reason chose to remove his shoes for the duration. For once though, I had built in enough time to do something other than the usual Airport-Novotel-Conference Centre-Airport-Home. But what I didn’t quite succeed this time was to persuade anyone else to up sticks and to join me. And whilst I would like to visit it, the idea of touring a concentration camp on my own as I enter my late-late 40s was a bit too bleak.

So instead I packed my running shoes and am just back from slowly ambling along the Vistula, pondering events that happened merely 30 years before my birth and feel more worryingly close now than they have in the last 30, which in it’s own way is no less bleak. But let’s not end on that dark note. On the flight here, I treated myself to an Easyjet meal deal, ending up with an empty Pringles pot in which to store any burst balloons I acquire. Eyeore would no doubt be quite envious.

Taking the Plunge

 On the benefits (or not) of cold water swimming

I dip my toe into this topic with some considerable caution and not just because it is bloody cold. Cold water swimming has an enthusiastic, dare I say cult following. This includes at least 2 of my colleagues, a handful of friends, my cousin and my sister. All of whom took umbrage when I dared to question its unique benefits.

Much has been made of cold water swimming as a panacea, often in the context of ageing and wellness, particularly by those who sell retreats which involve cold water swimming. And I’m not completely against the idea. It can be the best feeling, I’ve some in mountain lakes in Switzerland, Wales and the Lake District. Quite a few of those dips have been naked because I forgot to bring my trunks. On one memorably terrible time, I was about to take the plunge and for some reason decided to take my wedding ring off for safe keeping, immediately losing it on the shale of Brighton beach. In some miracle of modern technology, a friend used his phone torch and found it.

As part of the research for my book Live Forever? A Curious Scientist’s Guide to Ageing, Wellness and Death I undertook a number of self experiments. One of which was cold water swimming. I’ll confess now, I didn’t go hardcore – I waited till late March (average water temperature 10°C) as opposed to the current water temperature in the UK (3°C).

I recorded the outcomes in an entirely subjective way.

Day 1. Weather rainy and windy; sea temperature ten degrees Celsius. Alone (my daughter refused to join me because of the rain). Length of time in sea – five minutes. It was only this long because I shared the beach with someone else who had clearly just been swimming and I felt ashamed by my weakness.

Day 2. Weather rainier; sea temperature still cold. With daughter for five minutes, but she got out quickly because she only had one sea shoe – the matching one having been lost six months previously. Length of time in sea – ten minutes. I lasted longer because I remembered my wetsuit gloves this time.

Day 3. Weather windier; sea temperature unknown. With family. Length of time in sea – zero minutes. We had changed beaches to the rougher north Cornish coast to discover waves crashing on the sea wall with enough force to break bones. Whilst internal bleeding probably would lower blood pressure, we decided that discretion was the better part of valour.

Days 4–6. Some sun, not warm. With extended family. Length of time in sea – thirty minutes.

Because I am a proper scientist, I repeated the whole experience a year later – no reproducibility crisis in my research! I confirmed the original findings, the English Channel in late March is bitterly cold, but spending time in it with my family is fun. Sea-swimming did seem to resolve a calf injury I had given myself, so score one to the curative properties of cold salty water.

From my studies, it looks like I made some amazing breakthrough in resilience, but being honest, most of the increase in swim length came about because the weather improved and I remembered all the right bits of kit. Having (finally) warmed up, I looked into the delicate balance between the pros and cons of cold water swimming. Cold water swimming is not without risk. Most advice emphasises that cold water can lead to shock, arrhythmia and hypothermia; none of which sounds that healthy. One scientific paper stated that whilst cold water has some health benefits for the already healthy, ‘there is a risk of death . . . either due to the initial cold shock or progressive decrease in swimming efficiency’.

One of the things often attributed to cold water swimming is immune boosting, with anecdotal evidence about reducing the number of colds swimmers get. We discussed this at length on a recent episode of Inside Health on BBC Radio 4 so after reading this, listen and draw your own conclusions!

I do sometimes wonder if in this secular age, there is a more sacral component to the cult of cold. Doing something slightly flagellistic with other like minded souls. In the end the benefits come back to the key lesson I learnt whilst researching for my book – social connectivity is good for us. So if this works for you, carry on. The combination of physical and social has a synergistic benefit on our lives. (But do take care – especially on a windy day like this, swimming can be dangerous). But if you prefer not turning blue on a beach, try something else. In the end, the answer of how to live longer and better is do more of what you like with people you love.

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Ageing and Love

Inexplicably buried in the calendar is a date with an expectation for romance, gifting and fine dining. It is easy to be overwhelmed by commercialisation but at the heart of it is something important.

One of the good things about ageing is that there is a decreasing number of times we have to endure Hallmark moments – fewer father’s days, half as many Halloweens and vanishing numbers of Valentines. This may sound grinchy but there is something quite depressing about enforced enjoyment. Coupled with the grim commercialisation of these dates; the pressure to buy rubbish that goes straight from the factory in China to the bin in Britain. Don’t get me started on dressing up; the absolute state of Christmas jumper day – no they aren’t funny, they are just naff. And as for the trauma of world book day, yes my children are no longer cute angels, but at least I no longer have to spend the night before desperately throwing clothes together and trying to persuade them that yes Harry Potter definitely wore this. As an aside, has anyone ever been convinced to read more books because they got to dress up as Spiderman? My guess is that people who enjoy reading are not necessarily people who enjoy fancy dress.

Ah, it felt good to get that off my chest. And it’s easy to be cynical. Cynicism being an attribute that matures with age like fine wine – or alternatively begins to stink like old cheese. And until the last year I genuinely couldn’t see a point to many of these occasions. In writing my book Live Forever? A Curious Scientist’s Guide to Wellness, Ageing and Death I investigated various ways we could extend our lives. Most of them didn’t work, some were not surprising (don’t drink, don’t smoke, do exercise, eat healthily), but one was surprising (and reassuring). Social connectivity is good for us. So finding ways to come together with other people is a health hack.

So instead of dreading the various set pieces throughout the year, see them as a chance to connect. And focus on the aspects that matter to you. For some people, fancy dress is a wonderful way to demonstrate their creativity and shared interests (admittedly not me, I would rather die alone than cosplay). For others preparing lavish meals, carefully sourcing each person’s favourite treat; or choosing gifts that perfectly match the person. These love languages are important, but central to the possible health benefits are time together and connectivity. Sometimes this can get lost when the focus is on buying rather than doing. But let’s claim them back, and this year’s Valentine’s day, Mothers day, Easter, Halloween etc do more of what you like with people you love.

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