What’s my baseline?

For most of my life, I went by how my body felt.

I ignored a lot of the science. I didn’t even have language for things like “metabolic health” back then.

So the question eventually became: where do I actually start?

How do I create a baseline to work from when your body isn’t clearly telling you anything—or you don’t know how to listen?

That was the problem.

Like a lot of men, I ignored things. I didn’t go for annual checkups. I didn’t really dig into blood work. I didn’t have a regular family physician for a long time, and between work and building a career, health just wasn’t something I actively managed.

That was just the way it was.

Until it wasn’t.

After the incident—the one that shook me at my core—the question wasn’t how do I fix this?

It was where is my body right now?

Not judgmentally. Just honestly.

And that turns out to be a hard pill to swallow.

Getting honest about where I was

“Baseline” meant asking some uncomfortable but basic questions:

Where do I stand cardiovascularly?

Can I go for walks?

Can I stand for longer periods of time?

What does my blood work actually say?

Which panels were run—and which weren’t?

Blood work doesn’t tell you everything, but it tells you something. And part of my journey was figuring out what I needed to know so I could even begin moving the needle.

As part of my medical recovery, I set up an appointment and had necessary blood work done—something I honestly hadn’t done in decades outside of mandatory work-related tests.

This time was different.

Learning to read my own data

Here’s where it got interesting—and difficult.

My cardiologist at the time didn’t speak English. That forced me to slow down and take ownership. I was on Google Translate, pulling apart lab results, trying to understand what each marker meant—not just in isolation, but how it interacted with everything else.

And I was doing this while still recovering.

It wasn’t ideal, but it was formative.

Because once you start understanding what’s being measured—and what isn’t—you can ask better questions. You stop relying entirely on a doctor’s summary of “everything looks fine.”

I’ll be honest: looking back, I question some of the early decisions I made. I made mistakes. I listened too much to the internet at times, and at other times, too narrowly to medical advice without fully understanding the context.

I had to navigate it myself.

Owning your health (before you’re forced to)

That’s really the point.

We all need to own our own health before we’re in a position where we don’t have a choice.

One thing I strongly believe now:

Just because your results fall in the “green” range doesn’t mean nothing is coming.

Who created those ranges anyway?

Coming from North America, a lot of standard ranges are built around the Standard American Diet. Europe uses different ranges. Populations matter. Context matters.

And analytically, I wanted trends.

I wanted to know:

What was my blood work last time?

Is this improving?

Is it stabilizing?

Is something quietly getting worse?

Most of what happened to me happened over decades. If I’d paid attention sooner—if I’d owned this earlier—I would have known much more clearly whether I was moving in the right direction or not.

My real baseline

For me, baseline came down to two things:

1. Blood work I actually understood, not just received

2. A living list of things I wanted to improve

That list started small and grew over time. I added to it as part of self-discovery. I checked things off as they became habits or things I felt I’d mastered.

That combination—objective data plus honest self-assessment—became my starting line.

If you’ve never done this, or you’ve never paid attention to it, go back and look at your blood work. Learn what’s being measured. Learn what you can request. Do the homework.

Because the earlier you understand your baseline, the more control you have over where you’re going.