As Many Aging Schedules As There Are People

Biomarkers
by William J. Evans, Ph.D.

(Page 2 of 3)

Some gerontologists have likened the process of biological aging to a long, slow tide that moves upon us so gradually it may take a long time before we're aware of its presence. Certainly aging is not something that happens suddenly. It moves in on us in increments over the whole middle part of our lives. As Butch Cassidy remarks ingenuously to his sidekick, the Sundance Kid, in the film bearing their names: "Every day you get older. That's a law." What's not an immutable law, though, is the pace at which you get older. That varies enormously from one individual to the next.

The beat of your biological drummer is different from ours and the next person's. Indeed, older people are more unlike their peers than younger folk. By a long shot. Decades of studying both normal and abnormal aging — that is, premature aging due to illness — have convinced investigators beyond a doubt that the older people become, the less like each other they become. Some people are weak and withered and wrinkled at age 60. Others, at age 75, are energetic, eager for new adventures, and look and feel far younger than their chronological age.

This fact has certainly been brought home to us at the HNRCA, where we've recruited thousands of volunteers for research studies over the last five years. Every week we interview older people whose chronological age, appearance, and medical test results surprise us. We'd like you to meet three senior citizens, all people who volunteered for our research studies. In terms of their aging timetables, they represent different ends of the spectrum:

Frank was 66 when he came into our center for a screening interview. He was a distinguished-looking man, and his comportment indicated he knew it. Frank characterized himself as "health-conscious," but as he talked a different picture emerged.

Frank had a whole litany of minor ailments and annoyances, but he'd only gotten treatment for those visible signs of aging that showed when he looked in a mirror or that he knew other people would notice. Although he certainly understood the connection between smoking and cardiovascular disease, he felt he was somehow immune. His father had lived to a ripe old age, why shouldn't he? Frank is like a lot of people in our society. He sees health through the prism of appearance and vanity. He has little concept of what real fitness or physical well-being are all about.

In all fairness, Frank abhorred the idea of losing his youthful looks for a very practical reason. He equated the external signs of health with economic survival. Frank had spent his career in an industry where youth and attractiveness are highly prized, and aging in an ungraceful fashion could be the unspoken grounds for dismissal.

For most of his career, Frank was a salesman for several leading national magazines, making the daily rounds of advertising agencies and executive suites soliciting pages of advertising. Even though the job was high-pressure, the glamour and chance to live well on a lavish expense account appealed to him. Sometimes he found it hard to believe he was actually being paid a good salary to enjoy life.

But by age 49 Frank had grown tired of all the glad-handing and free spending and decided he wanted a different type of job. He'd always had a flair for words, so he decided to use his advertising agency contacts to get a copywriting job. A string of interviews that didn't pan out and a long look in the mirror convinced him that his age was showing more than he'd thought. He resolved to do something about it.

Frank subscribed to several health magazines and bought a battery of vitamin and mineral pills. He went on a crash diet and did muscle-toning exercises in his bedroom until he lost the beefiness in his face and girdle of body fat he'd started to develop around his middle. Even though his eyesight was poor, he decided he could no longer afford to be seen in eyeglasses, especially bifocals, a sure sign of advancing age. He started wearing contact lenses and later switched to bifocal contact lenses, even though they gave him constant trouble and he couldn't see very well. The final touch was an expensive hairpiece to cover the signs of his receding hairline.

Frank landed that copywriting job and was in that line of work when we met him. His true health and fitness were another story.

When we took a medical history, Frank admitted, with some embarrassment, that he'd had a little plastic surgery once; and he'd also tried a number of skin-care elixirs that made claims of eliminating wrinkles and firming the skin. Frank's hearing was impaired, but he'd done nothing about it because he refused to wear any ear device, no matter how small. Frank was startled when he discovered he'd already shrunk a half inch from his peak height of 6 feet. Although he weighed only 10 pounds more than he had in college and he looked relatively trim, his body had gained fat and lost considerable muscle. He now had a lean-body mass/body-fat ratio of 4:1. The body fat gain was concentrated in his belly. At 20 he'd had a 36-inch chest and 33-inch waist. Our tape measure showed he now had a 37-inch waist.

Frank's muscular strength was below average. He'd never lifted a weight in his life, nor did he see much sense in the stretching exercises his wife did in front of the television set in their bedroom every morning. He adamantly refused to join her, and the flexibility and range of motion in his joints were the worse for it.

Frank was an off-again, on-again jogger and a once-a-week tennis player. His cardiovascular endurance on a treadmill showed it. He was below the norm for his age. Likewise, his blood pressure was high for a man of his age and race.

We asked Frank to describe a typical day.

Frank explained that he and his wife live in a condominium community geared toward people aged 50 and over. The grounds are maintained beautifully by professional landscapers, and maid service is even provided for an extra fee, so he feels it's the ideal place to work at home, his current situation. Despite the fact that he's a free-lancer, he maintains 9-to-5 hours. Breakfast is three cups of black coffee and several cigarettes, which he consumes while scanning the morning newspaper. His wife is off to work by 8:30, about the time he makes it over to his computer to start his workday writing advertising copy. Work consists of reading, writing, and talking on the telephone, punctuated by occasional visits to clients' offices or a business luncheon.

His wife gets home around six, and an evening's worth of congeniality and good food commences. The couples within their circle of friends pride themselves on their culinary skills and go all out preparing meals for each other. Frank and his wife dine out four or five nights a week, either at friends' homes or in restaurants. He gets to bed around 1 or 2 A.M. but has a problem with insomnia. He never lies in bed and worries about it, though. Instead, he reads a book or settles in front of the TV set with his cigarettes and cognac to watch a late-night movie.

While awaiting further evaluation to become a participant in one of our studies, Frank suffered a stroke that left him partially paralyzed on the right side of his body. At our last contact Frank was at home, undergoing daily rehabilitative therapy.

Frank's story is one of premature disability brought on by a misconception of what constitutes good health habits. We tell it by way of contrast with an older couple we screened around the same time.

George and Elaine McGrath live in rural Vermont on a nonworking farm they bought 50 years ago when they were young parents. It was the ideal country retreat, an unpretentious, semi-rundown place where they could turn their five children loose to roam in nearby fields and woods during summers and on weekends.

Years later, when their children were grown, they questioned whether they wanted to continue being responsible for the ramshackle, nineteenth-century house and outbuildings, not to mention the ten acres of meadows that went with it. They put the property up for sale. But after two months and no takers, George admitted he missed the challenge of caring for the place and felt cooped up on weekends in their suburban ranch home in the Boston suburbs. They decided to keep "the farm," as they call it. Later, when they retired, George talked Elaine into moving there permanently, and neither of them have regretted it.

George, a former accountant, and Elaine, ex-administrator of a social services agency, have never made a conscious effort to exercise, nor did their white-collar occupations demand any strenuous activity. The upkeep of the farm was — and still is — the only thing that forces them to use their muscles to any great extent.

Years ago the whole family renovated several of the outbuildings. Since their retirement, the two of them, with minimal outside help, have made further major improvements to the property. They've remodeled the main house and, as recreation for their visiting grandchildren, added a patio and swimming pool. The adjoining heated whirlpool bath is for their pleasure and relaxation. It's a godsend after a hard day of labor in their quarter-acre fruit and vegetable garden or when used to ease their sore muscles after a vigorous wood-chopping session.

The couple assured us they're not lonely, nor are they alone, despite the fact that they live on the crest of a hill two miles outside the nearest town. Their housemates are six cats, a big shaggy Scottish sheepdog who seems to produce puppies on a fixed schedule, and George's loyal Irish setter. The dogs accompany them on long daily walks, sometimes to do errands in the town nestled in the valley below them. Since they're snowed in for several weeks each winter, making vehicular travel perilous, foot power is often the only way to restock the refrigerator with the bare essentials. Besides, they say they've gotten hooked on their long walks, not just as a practical necessity, but as a form of enjoyment since the rolling landscape in their vicinity is very beautiful.

Their health?

George had open-heart surgery five years ago to replace a malfunctioning cardiac valve, which had caused him to suffer fainting spells. After an uneventful recovery, George said he felt better than ever — and greatly relieved that he no longer had to worry about fainting at unexpected times. Except for various allergies and occasional attacks of bursitis, he has no major complaints. He said it took him much longer to do things now than when he was younger, but the more leisurely pace was nice. It gave him time to savor each project.

Elaine was also in good health and spirits. Years earlier, as a frazzled working mother, her crucible had been severe, incapacitating backaches. But for the past 30 years she'd done a series of stretching and back-strengthening exercises each morning that offered relief. Now, with no time pressure and stress in her life, the backaches were gone. She had arthritis in her hands, but she found she could reduce the pain by playing technically demanding music on the piano or the organ of the local church, where she was the choir director. While Elaine had lots of facial wrinkles from the many years she'd spent relishing the sunny outdoor life, she never mentioned them, nor the fact that her posture was somewhat stooped and she'd shrunk almost two inches from her peak height of 5 feet 6 inches.

Have you guessed their ages yet?

At the time of our first meeting, George was 81 and Elaine was 77. Clearly, neither of these two vital older people was anywhere near entry into the Disability Zone. Their active lifestyle and better-than-average results on various age-adjusted Biomarker tests were proof enough of that.

Compare George and Elaine's situation with that of Frank. At 66 Frank has already entered the Disability Zone, perhaps to emerge from it, perhaps not.

Copyright © 1991 by Dr. Irwin H. Rosenburg, Dr. William J. Evans, and Jacqueline Thompson

About the Author

William J. Evans, Ph.D., a pioneer in the field of age reversal for more than twenty years, has worked as an expert adviser to NASA on nutrition and exercise since 1988, and is the former head of the Nutrition, Physical Fitness, and Rapid Rehabilitation Team of the National Space Biomedical Institution. He lives in Little Rock, Arkansas, with his wife and three children.