Hey {{first name | reader}},
It’s Tuesday, which means your weekly fitness check-in. Welcome to Week #8.
Several months ago, an InBody 570 Body Composition Analyzer quietly appeared in my gym. I eyed it for weeks with deep suspicion, heroically resisting its seductive promise of numerical self-revelation.
Last week, in a moment of questionable judgment, I stepped on.
It printed a small receipt of numbers that were — depending on your philosophy — either fascinating or completely meaningless. Mostly, they reminded me of a former version of myself: the one who believed that a single number could define progress, success, or worth.
These days, my questions are much simpler:
Am I healthy?
Am I strong?
Can I run and catch the bus when I’m running late? Can I keep up with my friends when we try to accomplish a Google Maps-estimated 12 minute walk in 9 minutes?2
San Francisco from Treasure Island
🌱 This Week’s Rooted Thought
What Numbers Actually Matter
Fitness culture loves a number.
BMI. Body fat percentage. Lean mass. Weight. Whatever metric happens to be fashionable this month.
I understand the appeal. Numbers feel objective. Clean. Scientific. Comforting. They suggest control.
But bodies are not spreadsheets.
Most body composition machines carry margins of error large enough to make precision largely theatrical. The InBody result gave me a number — yet the realistic interpretation is closer to: somewhere in the general vicinity of this number, give or take five percent.
Useful? Maybe. Definitive? Hardly.
More importantly, I’ve learned that tying goals to aesthetic metrics alone is a fast path to frustration. When I was younger, no matter what I weighed, the “right” number always seemed to sit five or ten pounds away, permanently receding like a mirage.
I tracked food.
I tried questionable diets.3
I added more training.
I thought about it far more than was reasonable.
Eventually, something shifted.
Instead of asking How do I change how my body looks?
I started asking What would I like my body to be able to do?
Could I do a pull-up?
Could I do five?
Could I do ten?
Could I squat 135 lbs?
Could I hike ten miles?
Could I spin for an hour without mentally negotiating surrender?
Everything changed.
Training became more engaging. Progress became visible. And — almost as a side effect — my body changed without requiring constant surveillance.
🥕 The Lazy Radish Take
Numbers are tools, not verdicts.
Use them to measure progress — not self-worth.
🌿 A Small Win
At some point, I stopped stepping on the scale entirely.4
Not as an act of rebellion, but as an act of relief.
Nothing catastrophic happened. Training continued. Strength improved. Life went on — shockingly unaffected by my ignorance of a precise body weight.
📖 Ask Me Anything
What numbers should I care about?
The only numbers I find consistently useful are performance-based:
Reps
Loads
Distance
Time
Consistency
When I started working on pull-ups, I could do exactly one. My goal wasn’t “get leaner.” It was simply: add one more pull-up over time.
Concrete. Measurable. Motivating.
Each improvement reflected something real: strength gained, skill improved, capacity expanded.
At the start of each year, I still choose challenges this way. One meaningful target. A realistic plan. Smaller milestones along the way.
Progress you can feel tends to be far more satisfying than progress you can merely calculate.
💡 Myth Busting
Myth: The main reason to train is to lose weight.
Reality: The main reason to train is to live well.
Strength training supports muscle mass and bone density, yes — but movement also improves metabolic health, cognitive function, mental health, and long-term disease risk.
Fitness is not just about shaping bodies.
It’s about supporting lives.
🍽️ Radish Fuel Box
Normal Human Snack (Anti-Influencer Approved)
Apple + Almond Butter5
Still undefeated. Still not trending on Instagram. A quick energy boost. Always works.
📚 Worth Your Time
Podcast: Huberman Lab — How to Use Exercise to Improve Your Brain’s Health, Longevity & Performance6
A deep dive into how movement affects cognition and mood. Dense but fascinating. The short version: your brain likes it when you move your body.
He explains how to time and structure your weekly training so you are not just getting fitter, but also enhancing alertness, memory, and stress tolerance in day-to-day life, and he walks through a practical framework for building a routine that supports both physical longevity and mental performance.
💪 Try This Week
Pick your number for the year — but make it a capability number.
Something that reflects what your body can do:
A lift
A distance
A skill
A consistency goal
Choose something challenging but attainable. Build incremental progress. Celebrate small wins.
Momentum loves specificity.
Stay strong,
{{first name | reader}}
P.S. A single number cannot capture the complexity of a human body — or a human life.
1 Body composition machines are marvels of modern technology and also occasionally enthusiastic fiction writers. Their principal feature seems to be getting us to spend more money on body composition machines.
2 Oddly specific, yes. My friends and I had planned to take the ferry over to Treasure Island, but for San Francisco reasons (wind, waves, fog— take your pick) the ferry wasn’t running. We hustled at a high cadence over to the former Transbay Terminal to take the bus. We arrived just on time to discover that the bus had been canceled. Against my better judgment and the will of the universe, we waited for the next bus and had a lovely afternoon on Treasure Island. Sometimes you go with the flow.
3 The cabbage soup diet remains one of history’s more confusing nutritional experiments, and yes I tried it. It was miserable, and I lost about two pounds, which promptly came back.
4 Physicians like to track the number on the scale. Every time I go to see my primary care physician (or any physician) they ask me to step on the scale, and I politely decline. Reactions to this are mixed, but I haven’t allowed a doctor to bully me onto a scale in more than 15 years. (Saying “no”— one of my favorite perks of being an adult. That and eating dessert first). I know that if I do I’ll obsess over the number, and that’s just not something I need in my life.
5 Yes, an apple is a fruit, however, it’s the only fruit that I will voluntarily eat. Unlike most fruits, which are mushy sugar bombs of little distinction, apples at their peak are crunchy, occasionally tart and of subtle complexity. Add the almond butter and they become almost pleasant to eat. Cook them with sugar wrap them in dough, and call it a pie, and they become, just like every other insipid fruit out there— unpalatable.
6 After the revelations of Dr. Peter Attia’s connections to a Jeffrey Epstein, I realize that I need to be exceptionally careful about whose work I recommend. Some folks are able to separate the person’s work from who they are, but I find that an uncomfortable distinction, and I do not want to elevate the voices of those with whose ethics I call into question. You won’t see Attia’s work recommended here again, and I’ll be working hard to research all the experts whom I do suggest.