David Asprey, age 45, the founder of Bulletproof Coffee that popularized adding a slice of butter to your morning coffee, plans to live till he's at least 180. Superhuman longevity is central to his work as a life style and wellness guru.
He's a biohacker (bio as in biology), experimenting and using himself on what he learns from researching here and there. Do-it-yourself biology is a growing biotechnological social movement in which individuals, communities, and small organizations study biology and life science using the same methods as traditional research institutions.
From the detailed report on him in Men's Health Magazine, we learn he's had the most extensive stem-cell treatment that’s ever been done on a person at one time. The surgeon extracted bone marrow from his hips, filtered out stem cells, and injected stem cells into every joint in Asprey’s body that affects physical prowess, as well as looks, and sexuality. He'll have this surgery again as he ages.
Asprey at his gym.
He takes one-hundred supplements daily, religiously follows a low-carb, high-fat diet, bathes in infared light, chills in a cryotherapy chamber, and relaxes in a hyperbaric oxygen chamber, sleeps on an atmospheric cell trainer bed of infrared lights that vibrates 30 times per second. He wears special yellow-lensed glasses that protect him from junk light when he leaves his offices or home.
Over the past decade, he’s published five books on subjects ranging from fertility to "Better Baby Book," which he co-wrote with his wife, a physician. His podcast, Bulletproof Radio, has been downloaded more than 75 million times. He tweets inspirational messages to his 332,000 Twitter followers, and advises them about sex, sleep, and diet, though he has no medical degree or nutritional training.
Asprey, wife, and their two sons live in B.C. Canada, a short trip by plane to the Bulletproof offices in Seattle. He's nicknamed his office "Alpha Labs." It's exercise gadgets in a high-intensity interval circuit that can deliver two and a half hours of exercise in 21 minutes, with no Aerobics." He warns clients in one of his podcasts, "Aerobic exercise may be destroying your body.”
Having spent at least a million dollars hacking his own biology, and more than $700,000 on Alpha Labs, Asbrey remarks with a sense of humor, "Hanging around for another 140 years, making it to 2153, will certainly take several million more, if I don't die trying to get there."
Other hackers point out that Asprey’s lack of official credentials benefits him--there’s a huge distrust of mainstream medicine now, so not being a doctor is an asset. Rachel Monroe, the highly respected author, who wrote the article in Men's Health, expresses amazement and occasionally skepticism about what biohacking is doing for him personally and financially. (Here's the article by Monroe, with more about all this.)
Asprey points to his track record: “Whether or not you have a piece of paper isn’t a great indication of whether you’ll help hundreds of thousands of people." He chuckles as he says, “The bottom line is if the risk-reward ratio is pretty good and you want to be in control of your own biology, why not try it?”
What sits in my mind is his easy-come/easy-go handling of millions of dollars, the successful- handsome-man photos of him everywhere, and him owning the company you'll be paying to upgrade your mind and body so you can live to 180. It gets me, eyebrows raised, wondering if he's a visionary exploring new frontiers, or a very creative huckster.
Guys. I can't imagine how I'd look at age 180. I don't think I'll be around in 2153. Do you think you might be?
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HOW I GOT HERE
I'm a writer, writing things that haven't brought me fame, but continue to involve me, inspire me to find an audience.
I started out as a modern dancer, contemporary, but balletic. I didn't want to be a swan, or a barefoot dancer. I wanted to dance to the music that thrilled me as a child, and made me want to be a dancer.
I began writing in the truck my first husband, Mark Ryder and I bought, in order to carry our set, props, and costumes for a long one-night-stands tour -- eighty-eighty performances in eighty-eight cities.
We were performing "Romeo and Juliet" nightly, but our marriage was breaking up. Every day while our stage manager drove us two-hundred miles or so to the next booking, I'd type a detailed description of last night -- what we did well, what we argued about, and a travelogue about the town, and comments from the people at the nightly party.
Recovering from the trip and the divorce, I sent my "car book" to a friend who said -- "Em, it's great, but ..." And that became rewrites, and another book. Then, my marriage to actor John Cullum, and then a play that got produced, and another book, big hopes because a famous agent loved it. The title and concept changed five times -- now it's been published, finally, as "Somebody, Woman of the Century." You can buy it, or read about it and my other five novels on Emily Frankel.com