I only have eighteen years left to live. That’s it. My life expectancy.

According to the most recent data, the life expectancy of a typical Canadian male is age 80. In the US, it’s even less—76 years. Given it’s my birthday this month, I have a whopping eighteen years left on this planet.

It gets worse. The Health-Adjusted Life Expectancy [HALE] for a Canadian male is 71. That means I have only 9 more years of life to enjoy without any limiting disabilities or disease.

And worse yet! For a male born in 1958, my life expectancy was all of 68 years. That’s less than 6 years on the countdown clock!

Am I worried?

Nope.

For as long as I can remember, I have always believed I would live to 100. I even believed it way back in grade school.

Dying young has never crossed my mind. Even when I sat in an oncologist’s office seven years ago waiting on a diagnosis the doctor said would almost certainly be serious leukemia [right about leukemia, wrong about serious].

So why this cockiness about outliving the statistics? How can I possibly believe I will become a member of the exclusive centenarian club?

Lifestyle

Lifestyle, for starters. I eat well. I’ve maintained virtually the same body weight and waist size since I was 18.

I exercise regularly and always have. My daily vigorous gymnastics program gives me more strength and mobility than I’ve ever had.

I avoid most things ‘bad’. Never smoked. Don’t drink alcohol. No soda. Rarely eat processed foods. No meat in 40 years and counting. Hardly any sugar. Drink good water.

I supplement my diet knowing I can’t get everything the cells of my body need through diet alone.

Most importantly, I believe in my pending membership in the centenarian club. With every fiber of my being, I am certain I will flip my life odometer into triple digits—and do it in good health and with a great quality of life.

So thirty-eight years left until centenarian club membership. If I don’t make it, man I’m gonna be pissed!