CHAPTER 6
23½ Hours
Cliff sat at his desk, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him, his hand hovering over the mouse as he absentmindedly clicked through videos. He wasn’t really paying attention to anything, just letting the endless stream of content wash over him—until he stumbled upon a video titled 23½ Hours by Dr. Mike Evans. Intrigued by the simplicity of the title (and maybe also because it didn’t involve cats doing backflips), he clicked play.
The screen flickered to life, not with flashy graphics or intense music, but with the sound of a marker scratching across a whiteboard. Dr. Evan’s calm, reassuring voice filled the room. "Alright, what do we have here?" Cliff thought, leaning back in his chair, which squeaked in protest after years of supporting his increasingly sedentary lifestyle.
As Dr. Evans started sketching out his ideas in real-time, Cliff found himself oddly mesmerized by the simplicity of it all. There were no bells and whistles, just a guy with a marker and a mission. Cliff felt a bit like a kid again, watching the teacher at the front of the class, except this time, he wasn’t doodling dinosaurs in the margins of his notebook.
“What if I told you there’s one intervention that can decrease the incidence of Alzheimer’s and dementia by 50%?” Dr. Evans asked, as a simple sketch of a brain appeared on the whiteboard. Cliff’s interest was heightened—mostly because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything to prevent dementia, other than forgetting where he left his keys. “What if it could reduce anxiety by 41% and depression by 47%? Lower the risk of arthritis by 47%, prevent hip fractures in the elderly by 41%, and significantly improve the overall quality of life?”
Cliff leaned forward, his face getting closer to the screen as if that would somehow help him absorb the information faster. This was like hitting the health jackpot! All these benefits from one simple thing? He had to know what it was.
Dr. Evans continued, teasing the big reveal like a magician drawing out the suspense before pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Cliff was practically on the edge of his seat, and his chair creaked again, threatening to give up on him altogether.
“What if I told you this intervention has no cost, no side effects, and is available to everyone?” The suspense was killing him—what was this miracle cure? A sketch of the word “exercise” appeared on the screen, and Cliff blinked. Exercise? That was it? He chuckled, half relieved, half disappointed. Here he was, expecting some secret elixir, and it turned out to be something as simple as moving more. “Well, that’s a letdown,” he thought, but deep down, he knew it was true. Exercise was the real deal, even if it wasn’t as fun as imagining a world where chocolate cake was the cure for everything.
Dr. Evans went on to share a study comparing three groups: those who maintained an ideal body weight but were sedentary, those who were overweight but exercised regularly, and a third group that both maintained an ideal weight and exercised regularly. The results were clear—the best outcomes were for the folks who were both active and at a healthy weight. But the surprise was—the active group, who were overweight, enjoyed better long-term health than the couch potatos with a good weight. So it wasn’t just about being thin; it was about being active. Cliff, who had been perfectly happy using his arm muscles to reach for the TV remote, suddenly felt like maybe he’d been missing the point all these years.
As the video wrapped up, Dr. Evans sketched a clock on the whiteboard, highlighting a tiny sliver of time—just 30 minutes. “Dedicate just 30 minutes out of your 24 hours to exercise,” he advised, with the kind of confidence that made Cliff think, “Yeah, I could totally do that!” Then came the final challenge, delivered with a twinkle in his voice: “Can you limit your sitting and sleeping to just 23 and a half hours a day?”
Cliff sat back, thinking about how much time he spent sitting—or lying down, or sitting some more. This wasn’t just a suggestion; it was a wake-up call, and it was surprisingly doable. He could squeeze in 30 minutes of exercise, even if it meant less time pretending to tackle the mountain of unread emails in his inbox, or scrolling through social media, half-heartedly liking posts he didn’t really care about.
That night, Cliff made a decision. He wouldn’t let this message slip away into the void of good intentions. He would start working out—30 minutes a day, just like Dr. Evans suggested. It was time to reclaim his health, one step at a time.
As he laced up his sneakers—still practically new, because let’s be honest, they hadn’t seen much action—Cliff stepped outside, ready to begin his journey. Cliff had no idea how much those first hesitant steps would change his life, pushing him beyond his limits in ways he never thought possible, and taking him further than he ever imagined. Well, maybe not that far, but far enough to make a real difference.
And so, his journey began... with a slightly awkward jog and a lot of determination…
