№ 72: The First Wealth Is Health

For most of my twenties, I valued money, women, friends, family and material possessions.

But around 28 years old, something in my psychology began to change.

Perhaps it was inching towards 30 years old. Perhaps it was being tired of constantly feeling anxious. Perhaps it was COVID-19 invading the world and killing more than 6 million people.

But I suddenly became aware of my own mortality.

See, there’s a double edged sword with being young. You naively assume that you will continue to be healthy and live forever. This allows you to take risks but it can also make you complacent. I was skinny-fat and didn’t care much about my health. The sporadic times I did manage to go to the gym, all I cared about was trying to get a six-pack. The idea of ‘being healthy’ and taking care of myself was something I never even thought about.

In the middle of the first lockdown, I came across a piece of advice from the billionaire investor, Mr. Warren Buffett. In a talk in front of undergrad students in Omaha, Nebraska, Buffet gave them what I would consider his most important piece of advice:

“When I was 16, I had just two things on my mind – girls and cars. I wasn’t very good with girls. So I thought about cars. I thought about girls, too, but I had more luck with cars.

Let’s say that when I turned 16, a genie had appeared to me. And that genie said, ‘I’m going to give you the car of your choice. It’ll be here tomorrow morning with a big bow tied on it. Brand-new. And it’s all yours!’

Having heard all the genie stories, I would say, ‘What’s the catch?’ And the genie would answer, ‘There’s only one catch … This is the last car you’re ever going to get in your life. So it’s got to last a lifetime.’

If that had happened, I would have picked out a car, but, can you imagine, knowing it had to last a lifetime, what I would do with it? I would read the manual about five times. I would always keep it garaged. If there was the least little dent or scratch, I’d have it fixed right away because I wouldn’t want it rusting. I would baby that car, because it would have to last a lifetime.

This is exactly the position you are in concerning your mind and body. You only get one mind, and you only get one body. And it’s got to last a lifetime. Now, it’s very easy to let them ride for many years. But if you don’t take care of that mind and that body, they’ll be a wreck 40 years later, just like the car would be.

It’s what you do right now, today, that determines how your mind and body will operate 10, 20, and 30 years from now. You must take care of it.”

As terrifying and traumatic as it was, the global pandemic was a blessing in disguise for me. I often wonder why it takes death to come knocking for us to start taking our lives so seriously. We all know it is coming, yet we act like we will live forever. This is evident in how we live our lives, the petty crap we worry about and the endless excuses we make when it comes to pursuing our dreams:

“Yeah, I’ll start next week/month/year.”

“I don’t have time/money.”

“I’m not ready. I need to learn more.”

I had become a 78kg sack of excuses and lost control of my life. On top of that, any bad session in poker resulted in me staring at the bottom of many empty pint glasses and smoking my frustrations away. It felt like I had become a passenger in my own life, coasting through the roads, unable to take hold of the steering wheel.

But being stuck in lockdown, experiencing a global pandemic and having a poker crisis meltdown, pushed me to a tipping point, a sudden, unforgettable moment of existential sobriety that prompted me to ask, “What the fuck am I doing with my life?”

Sitting at my desk for 10 hours a day playing high-stakes poker and drinking and smoking to manage the stress and anxiety was not the life I signed up for. Poker was only meant to be a mere stepping stone to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. But I was stuck in a vicious cycle: The more I won, the higher I played, the harder it became to walk away from it all.

When you’re in a period of crisis, you question everything. Who am I? What do I want? What are my values, and why do I value those things? What’s my purpose in life? Why do I care so much about money?

I came to the conclusion I wanted to make money, not because I wanted a Lamborghini, but because I wanted freedom. Freedom to control my time. Freedom to create the life I want. Freedom to choose the work I want to do.

But my freedom, my work, my relationships, my life, and my future were all contingent on one thing — my health. Everything is built on top of it. Life could take away — as it often does — my money, my relationships, my work, and my possessions, and I’d be relatively okay. I’d still be able to do things. But if life and came took away my health, I wouldn’t be able to do anything. I would lose my ability to make money, build relationships, write, climb walls, lift weights or run.

“A healthy man wants a thousand things, a sick man only wants one.” — Confucius

Let me repeat: Everything is contingent on health.

I don’t care how busy work or life gets, health has to be the number one thing I prioritise. Everyday. Until I die.

Realising this has changed the trajectory of my life, and for the past 3 years, I’ve made significant commitments towards my health — Exercising and climbing a minimum of 3 days a week. I’ve also run a half-marathon and finished 2 triathlons.

I’m the healthiest and fittest I’ve ever been and feel amazing. It’s left a positive impact on every part of my life — my mindset, my business, productivity, sleep, relationship, mood, and confidence. A part of me regrets not making this priority during my poker years and I often wonder how much of an impact it would’ve made to my game and winnings.

I see a lot of people struggle with health and fitness because they try to do too much too soon. While I’m no personal trainer, I believe in the power of starting simple. Keeping fit and healthy doesn’t mean you need to do a triathlon, it can be as simple as going to bed at a reasonable hour and sleeping for 8 hours a night, going on a walk for 30 minutes a day and eating as healthy as you can. That’s it. Crazy how simple that sounds, but I assure you that if you stuck this out for 90 days, you’d feel a significant impact on your mental and physical health.

“Those who think they have no time for bodily exercise will sooner or later have to find time for illness.”— Edward Stanley

Your body is the only vehicle you have to explore the world.

Take care of it.

— Jason Vu Nguyen