Reaching the Halfway Point of My Life! Spending the Days Taking Care of My Body

It has long been said that the human lifespan is 120 years. If we look at life this way, then I’m coming to a major milestone — like reaching the halfway mark, 21 kilometers, in a marathon. From here on out, it’s about digging in and pushing toward the finish line. Thinking about it in this way makes the road ahead feel full of possibilities. It’s all about perspective.

Our bodies are like machines. Over time, they wear down and develop ailments here and there, so they need regular maintenance. The other day, I had a conversation with an old taxi driver in Tokushima who was driving a beat-up car that had driven 700,000 kilometers. He said he’s retiring at the end of this year, and honestly, it’s amazing the car held out as long as it has. But with consistent maintenance and the power of today’s technology, reaching a million kilometers might not be just a dream.

Taking care of my own body is clearly going to be the key moving forward. In my family, nearly everyone has passed away from cerebral hemorrhages or subarachnoid hemorrhages — no one has ever died from cancer. So, I know just how crucial it is to take care of my blood vessels. This is why I make it a point to exercise daily, work up a good sweat, hit the sauna three times a week, stretch thoroughly, and drink a ton of water. I consider all of this to be part of my duties.
It’s like a pit stop in a car race. It’s not just taking a break or playing around when you stop driving to service the vehicle — it’s an essential, non-negotiable part of the process. The same applies to managing a company. When you carry the heavy responsibility of leading and running an organization, there’s nothing more important than maintaining your own health. If I die, that’s the end of it. So it’s only natural to treat body maintenance as part of the job.

That said, I’ve always had a healthy body. Even now, my bone density is that of someone in their 20s. My DNA is solid, and my skin still has a healthy glow. My physical activity level hasn’t changed in 50 years. I wear the same clothes, and my body shape is the same. Of course, with age, I’ve lost about 1 cm in height — but strangely, my legs have gotten 0.5 mm longer. Apparently, that can happen.
Also, though I started experiencing presbyopia in my 40s, something odd has happened lately: I sometimes find myself reading the newspaper without glasses. My natural vision used to be 1.2 to 1.5, and now that it’s finally dropped to around 1.0, it seems like the farsightedness has actually improved. It’s strange, but fascinating.

So, my body is definitely showing signs of wear and tear. And honestly, it's no surprise — nearly all of it stems from self-inflicted abuse. The list of physical issues throughout my body is too long to count.
The cartilage damage in my ankle came from spraining it during a long trail run over uneven mountain paths. The bone bruise in my knee was the result of a massive log slamming into it while I was clearing fallen trees in Takegashima. The toenails on both of my big toes came off for the second time, and they still haven’t fully healed even after a year. That was the result of running the 1,200-kilometer pilgrimage route. My iliotibial band syndrome, which causes sharp pain on the outer side of the knee, was triggered by running twenty full marathons and many more long-distance runs afterward. These days, the pain is so bad that I can’t run more than 20 kilometers at a time.

When it comes to internal issues, I’ve had three surgeries for inguinal hernias. These were caused by digging out stubborn roots while felling trees in Takegashima . I put all my strength into holding my ground and revving the chainsaw to its limit that eventually led to my intestines protruding. I kept going regardless, which is how it turned into three surgeries. Even now, I can’t say I’m completely healed.
I’ve also developed acid reflux, something I’ve been dealing with for quite a while now. The cause is eating right before bed. Ideally, your stomach should be empty when you sleep — that’s one of the keys to good health and longevity. But it’s tough. When I work late into the night, I end up eating something, almost without thinking. That was the start of my reflux. So, again, it’s just another case of me pushing my body too far.

Sometimes I get intense, stabbing pains in my chest muscles. This dates back to high school when I was bench pressing 100 kilograms and lost control. The bar came crashing down directly onto my chest. I damaged both muscle and bone at that moment, and ever since, the pain still flares up occasionally. When it happens, all I can do is rest.
Then there’s the pain in my neck. It’s a full-blown occupational hazard. When the stiffness builds up too much, it gets so bad that I literally can’t turn my head. It’s scary. If the same thing happens in the business — if the company can’t "turn its neck," so to speak — that’s a worst-case scenario. So I make it a point to take baths, get massages, and do whatever I can to keep things loose and flexible.

My hands and arms aren’t in great shape either. For the first time in my life, I’ve started to experience my fingernails cracking under the slightest provocation. A tiny split in the middle suddenly spreads, and the nail catches on everything, which only worsens the damage. Just the other day, my thumb nail got caught and tore so badly it started bleeding. Now I have to apply a base coat — a kind of nail polish — and use a gel hardener on my thumbs to keep the surface sealed and protected. It’s just one more time-consuming maintenance routine.

When it comes to my head, well, this is just the way it goes. My hair is thinning, sure, but thanks to regular maintenance, I’ve managed to avoid going completely bald. Still, even a bit of sleep deprivation brings on that familiar high-pitched ringing in my ears — another gift from aging. If I ignore it, there’s a risk of my Meniere’s disease flaring up again, so I’ve got to stay vigilant.
As for my eyes, I’ve developed allergic conjunctivitis and now use eyedrops every day as part of my maintenance routine. I also had tiny holes forming in my retina, which had to be sealed with 100 blasts from a laser. On top of that, staring at screens for too long gave me dry eyes and terrible eye fatigue — again, the result of pushing myself too hard. Honestly, I just want to quit work because my eyes are shot...

Finally, there’s my mouth — yeah, I regret this one a lot. I lost three of my own teeth a few years back and had to get implants. It all came down to slacking off with dental care. I didn’t brush properly, especially way in the back, and ended up with periodontal disease. There was no saving those teeth. I never imagined gum disease would hit me so suddenly, so fast.
Now, I brush three times a day, after every meal. I can’t bear to lose any more of my own teeth. I was lucky enough to have naturally perfect alignment, and I’m determined to maintain it at whatever cost.

These are the current check list I follow to maintain and manage my health. It’s true that the number of these items seems to be increasing day by day. Even so, my life has only just passed the halfway point, so the key to winning this race is to keep making pit stops and launching forward again and again.
Thinking positively about everything is an essential quality required of any manager. In this sense, I feel no concerns about my mental strength. After all, I’m a Showa-era baby. I spent my elementary school days during a time when we didn’t even have a TV. My daily life was filled with vivid memories of playing outside, running around. That background still forms the core of who I am today. Back in my day, there was no such thing as depression, no pollen allergies. No one refused to go to school. You could say it was a time when both mind and body were naturally strengthened just by living.
Now, despite carrying all sorts of physical issues, I’m deeply grateful for being able to continue living each day with a positive mindset. From here on out, I want to keep stopping to make pit stops when needed, take care of myself, and then push the accelerator again—with no intention of slowing down until I reach the finish line of life.