Energy at this age isn’t magic. It’s policy. I don’t count on motivation; I build guardrails that keep my body and mind from leaking power all day.

Most of what I do is unglamorous. It looks like common sense that’s actually practiced.

Here’s what I do—consistently—that my peers often skip.

1. I guard sleep like a contract

I’m in bed on purpose, not by accident. Same window most nights, cool room, dark as a pocket. No heroic all-nighters, no “just one more episode.”

I treat caffeine like a power tool—useful, but it stays in the shed after lunch.

The point isn’t perfect sleep stats; it’s reliable recovery. When I wake up consistently rested, the day doesn’t feel like I’m pushing a car up a hill.

If I have one late night, I plan the next night early. Recovery is scheduled, not hoped for.

2. I move daily, but never to impress

I don’t train for social media. I train on Tuesday. Every day gets something: a walk, a few sets with light weights, mobility in the living room.

Nothing that requires an entourage or a waiver. The aim is circulation and joint honesty.

I’ve learned the body negotiates. Ten minutes becomes twenty once you start. I don’t worry about “optimal.”

I worry about “done.”

When you do small movement every day, you build a floor you rarely fall below.

3. I eat simply and stop at “satisfied”

My plate is boring in the best way—protein I can pronounce, a heap of plants, something starchy if I’ve moved. I drink water like it’s a habit, because it is.

I enjoy dessert when it’s worth it and skip it when it’s filler.

No food is a moral issue — it’s fuel and pleasure.

Here’s the trick: I end meals at “satisfied,” not “defeated.” If I’m hungry later, I eat again. Energy loves steady, sane meals more than heroic fasting or yo-yo snacking.

4. I design low-friction routines

Energy leaks through friction. So I engineer my environment to make the good thing the easy thing.

Walking shoes live by the door.

A kettlebell sits near the kettle. I put my phone to bed in the kitchen so I don’t scroll myself stupid at midnight.

I block workouts, walks, and quiet time on the calendar first—before the week fills with everyone else’s plans.

I wrote about this “calendar-first” approach once; it’s still the simplest way I know to live by my values instead of my inbox.

5. I keep my nervous system uncluttered

Not every ping deserves my pulse. I say “no” more than I used to, with a simple script: “Thanks for thinking of me.

I’m not available.” No novel-length explanation. I check the news in two small windows, not as a 12-hour drip.

Single-tasking is my superpower.

One screen, one tab, one conversation. It slows me down in the best way, and my brain repays me with steadier energy and fewer 3 p.m. crashes.

6. I build small adventures into ordinary weeks

Novelty feeds vitality.

I keep a running list of “firsts” and pick one each week: try the new trail, cook the strange vegetable, visit the museum on a Tuesday morning when it’s empty.

I like micro-adventures you can complete between breakfast and lunch.

When you give your brain fresh edges, it rewards you with alertness. Energy isn’t only calories and cardio — it’s engagement. Boredom is a bigger drain than most desserts.

7. I invest in friendships that return energy

I keep a small, sturdy crew. Three to five people get standing spots on my calendar—no doodle polls, just “every other Thursday, same café.” We trade stories, not performances.

If someone chronically drains me, I don’t make them a villain—I just move them from “weekly” to “occasional” and wish them well.

I also live a place-based life. I know the barista’s name, bring tomatoes to the neighbor with the porch swing, and chat with the librarian who sets aside new releases.

Belonging, even in tiny doses, charges the batteries fast.

8. I treat beliefs like hypotheses and emotions like data (a quiet pitch)

Recently, I finished Rudá Iandê’s new book, Laughing in the Face of Chaos. I’ve mentioned this book before because it resonated with me.

The core idea is simple and useful at 73: a lot of what we call “truth” is just programming we never audited. Question it. Test it against your body and your life.

A few insights I took to heart: your body is a wiser teacher than your chatterbox mind; emotions are messengers, not enemies; stop fighting yourself because that internal war is an energy sink; authenticity beats perfection every day; meaning comes from within—created by how you show up and serve, not handed down by a guru.

One line I underlined twice: “When we stop resisting ourselves, we become whole. And in that wholeness, we discover a reservoir of strength, creativity, and resilience we never knew we had.”

The book inspired me to redesign my mornings around this—ten minutes of quiet first, then movement, then work. No doom-scrolling, no self-lecture. Just check in with my body, ask what’s needed, and do that.

If you’re feeling stuck or splintered—and if you want a nudge to trust your direct experience over the noise—Rudá’s work is worth your time. It’s not a “fix me” book; it’s a “know me” book. That shift saved me a lot of wasted energy.

9. I plan recovery like a meeting

Most folks plan workouts and then hope recovery happens.

I flip it. I put recovery on the calendar: a 20-minute walk after dinner, a short stretch while the kettle boils, a brief nap on heavy days, sunlight on my face before email.

I keep one “white space” afternoon each week—no appointments, just puttering and reading.

Maintenance beats repair. When I invest a little time in recovery, I don’t need weeklong resets or heroic detoxes. The machine stays smooth.

Parting thoughts

Energy at 73 is less about pushing harder and more about leaking less. If you want a simple start this week, try this:

• Pick a sleep window and defend it like a contract.

• Move for ten minutes every day—walk, stretch, carry something.

• Eat to “satisfied,” then stop.

• Put one tiny adventure on the calendar.

• Give your nervous system one gift: fewer pings, more single-tasking.

• If you’re curious about the inner game, consider Rudá Iandê’s Laughing in the Face of Chaos. Treat your beliefs as experiments and see what your body says.

None of this requires perfect health, expensive gear, or a personality transplant. It does require choosing, then repeating. Do that, and you won’t have to chase energy. It will meet you where you live.