It’s 5:43 AM and I’m eating a protein bar in my car, already checking emails at a red light, when I realize I’ve become the exact person I swore I’d never be. You know the type – those people who “don’t have time” for wellness, who eat lunch at their desk (if at all), who consider coffee a food group.
Except I’m 61, not 31. My body doesn’t bounce back from 12-hour days like it used to. My joints stage protests. My back files formal complaints. And don’t get me started on what happens when I skip meals – it’s like my blood sugar and emotions get together and plot revenge.
But here’s the thing: I finally figured out a wellness plan that works with my insane schedule, not against it. It’s not pretty, it’s not Instagram-worthy, and it definitely doesn’t involve 5 AM yoga. But it keeps me functional, relatively sane, and prevents me from becoming a cautionary tale about burnout after 60.
The Day Everything Fell Apart
Six months ago, I was killing it. And by killing it, I mean killing myself slowly with terrible choices disguised as “hustle.”
My typical day: Wake at 5, work until 7 PM, eat whatever Curtis made (bless him) while still answering emails, collapse into bed at 10, repeat. Weekends? Those were for catching up on the work I didn’t finish during the week.
I was proud of my productivity. Look at me, 61 and outworking people half my age! Then came the Tuesday that changed everything.
I stood up from my desk at 3 PM (first time since 7 AM) and the room went sideways. Not metaphorically. Literally sideways. Next thing I know, I’m on the floor, Curtis is panicking, and the paramedic is asking when I last ate.
“Coffee counts as breakfast, right?” I asked. The look he gave me could have curdled milk.
Turns out, you can’t run on caffeine, determination, and spite forever. Your body will eventually stage an intervention. Mine chose the dramatic route – a blood sugar crash combined with dehydration and exhaustion. Nothing says “reassess your life choices” like wearing a hospital gown that shows your butt to strangers.
The Wellness Plan That Actually Works
After my floor incident (that’s what we call it now), I had to create a wellness plan that worked with my crazy schedule. Like fixing my nutrition myths, this was overdue (that’s what we call it now), I had to create a wellness plan that worked with my crazy schedule. Here’s what actually stuck:
Morning: The Non-Negotiables (5:30 – 7:00 AM)
I used to roll out of bed and go straight to email. Now I have what I call my “human being before human doing” routine:
- 5:30 AM: Wake up (thanks, menopause, for the built-in alarm clock)
- 5:35 AM: Drink a full glass of water before coffee (revolutionary, I know)
- 5:40 AM: Five minutes of stretching (mostly making sure everything still works)
- 5:45 AM: Actual breakfast. Not a bar. Not a shake. Real food with protein.
- 6:00 AM: Coffee and 10 minutes of something that’s not work (usually scrolling photos of my grandkids or reading something funny)
- 6:15 AM: Get ready while listening to music, not news (the world’s problems can wait)
- 7:00 AM: Start work like a human, not a stress tornado
Is this perfect? No. Do I sometimes eat breakfast standing over the sink? Yes. But it’s better than the nothing I was doing before.
The Workday Survival Kit (7:00 AM – 7:00 PM)
Twelve-hour workdays aren’t going away. My job is demanding, and honestly, I love what I do. But I had to stop treating my body like it’s an inconvenience that keeps interrupting my productivity.
The Desk Setup That Saved My Back:
I finally invested in a proper chair. Not the $50 special from Office Depot, but a real ergonomic chair that cost more than my first car. Curtis nearly fainted at the price, but my spine sent a thank-you card.
I also got one of those standing desk converters. I don’t use it to stand all day (who are these people?), but I stand for phone calls and during my 2 PM slump. It’s like hitting a reset button for my body.
The Snack Strategy:
I keep a wellness drawer in my desk. Not the sad kind with rice cakes and sadness, but actual fuel:
- Mixed nuts (boring but effective)
- Protein bars that don’t taste like cardboard
- Dark chocolate (medicinal purposes)
- Instant oatmeal for emergency meals
- Those little cheese rounds (protein and joy)
The Meeting Hack:
I schedule fake meetings with myself. They’re on my calendar as “Strategic Planning” or “Project Review.” Really, they’re 15-minute breaks where I walk around the building, do desk stretches, or just breathe like a normal person.
My favorite: the 3 PM “walking meeting” with myself. I take my phone, walk around outside, and sometimes even have fake conversations so people think I’m important. Really, I’m just trying not to die at my desk.
Lunch: The Meal I Kept Skipping
I used to “forget” lunch. How does one forget lunch? When you’re deep in spreadsheets and suddenly it’s 3 PM and you’re considering eating your mouse pad.
Now I have rules:
- Lunch happens between 12 and 1, no exceptions
- No eating at my desk (crumbs in keyboards are unprofessional and disgusting)
- Real food, not whatever’s in the vending machine
- At least 10 minutes away from screens
My go-to lunch: Whatever I meal-prepped on Sunday (usually some kind of adult lunchable with protein, veggies, and carbs), eaten in the break room while doing the crossword. It’s not fancy, but it’s consistent.
The Evening Recovery (7:00 PM – 10:00 PM)
After 12 hours of work, I used to come home and collapse. Now I have what I call “the decompression protocol”:
7:00 PM: Leave work AT work. Phone goes in the charging station, not on the dinner table.
7:15 PM: Change clothes. Sounds simple, but putting on comfortable clothes signals my brain that work is over.
7:30 PM: Dinner with Curtis. Real dinner. At a table. With conversation that’s not about work.
8:30 PM: Movement of some kind. Sometimes it’s a walk with Curtis. Sometimes it’s gentle yoga (emphasis on gentle – I’m not trying to impress anyone). Sometimes it’s dancing badly to 80s music while doing dishes.
9:30 PM: Wind-down time. Bath, book, terrible reality TV, whatever helps my brain stop spinning.
10:00 PM: Bed. Non-negotiable. The work will be there tomorrow.
The Weekend Wellness Reality
Saturdays used to be catch-up work days. Now they’re recovery days. I sleep until my body wakes up (usually 6:30 because apparently my body hates me). I do something creative (Dutch pour painting, badly). Art became my stress relief painting, badly). I move my body in ways that feel good, not punishing.
Sundays are for meal prep, but not the Instagram kind where everything is in matching containers. I make a big pot of something (soup, chili, curry), cook some protein, chop vegetables, and call it good. Perfect is the enemy of done, and done keeps me from eating vending machine dinners.
The Supplements and Stuff
Because I’m 61 and working like I’m 31, I need help:
- Magnesium at night: Helps with sleep and those charming leg cramps
- Vitamin D: Because I’m inside all day like a vampire
- B-complex: For energy that doesn’t come from caffeine
- Turmeric: For inflammation (my joints are angry about everything)
- Probiotics: Because stress destroyed my gut
No magic pills, no “wellness shots” that cost $12, just basics that keep me functional.
The Exercise Reality Check
Every wellness article says “just wake up earlier to exercise!” Those people can bite me. I’m already up at 5:30. Earlier would be yesterday.
Instead, I sneak movement in where I can:
- Park farther away (free steps)
- Take stairs when my knee allows
- Walk during phone calls
- Desk stretches every hour (set a timer)
- Weekend longer walks with Curtis
- YouTube yoga when I feel tight (15 minutes counts)
Is this optimal? No. But it’s sustainable, and sustainable beats optimal every time.
The Mental Health Part Nobody Talks About
Working 12-hour days at 61 isn’t just physically exhausting; it’s mentally draining. I had to add mental wellness to my plan:
- Therapy every two weeks: Because processing work stress with Curtis isn’t fair to him
- Boundaries: “No” is a complete sentence
- One day off means OFF: The company won’t collapse
- Mindfulness apps: Five minutes of meditation beats zero
- Journaling: Just three lines before bed about what went well
What I Learned the Hard Way
You can’t wellness your way out of a toxic schedule forever. These strategies help, but they’re band-aids on a bigger issue. I’m working on that too – looking at whether I need to keep working this way, what I’m trying to prove, and to whom.
But until then, this plan keeps me upright and functional. It’s not perfect. I still have days where lunch is crackers and spite. I still sometimes answer emails at 9 PM. I still occasionally skip my evening walk to collapse on the couch.
The difference is now those are exceptions, not the rule. And when I do fall off the wagon, I don’t punish myself. I just start again the next day.
Your Turn
If you’re working insane hours and thinking wellness is for people with time and money, start small. Pick one thing. Maybe it’s drinking water. Maybe it’s taking lunch. Maybe it’s stretching for two minutes.
Don’t try to overhaul everything at once. I tried that. It lasted exactly three days before I was back to eating protein bars for dinner.
Remember: The goal isn’t perfection. It’s not dying at your desk. It’s being able to enjoy the life you’re working so hard for. It’s having enough energy left at the end of the day to actually live.
Because what’s the point of killing yourself for success if you’re too exhausted, sick, or dead to enjoy it?
P.S. – I still check emails at red lights sometimes. I’m not proud of it. But progress, not perfection, right? At least now I eat breakfast first. Baby steps at 61 are still steps.
