I almost didn’t believe Seth when he said it.
We were on the chairlift, me fumbling with a protein bar wrapper, when my cardiologist friend—the one who runs marathons and tracks his heart rate variability like it’s the stock market—turned to me and said, “You know who’s going to live longest? You.”
I laughed. Actually laughed.
“Seth, you’re literally the picture of health. You’ve got perfect labs. You eat salmon and blueberries. I had wine for breakfast.” (Kidding. Mostly.)
He looked at me with that doctor face, the one that means he’s about to tell you something that matters. “You have the goods that actually count, Camille. Real friends. Deep connections. The kind where we can show up messy.”
The chairlift kept moving, but something in me stopped.
When Connection Beats Cardio
We both got quiet. Not an awkward quiet, but a reflective, quiet recognition. Like when someone names the thing you’ve been circling around but couldn’t quite touch.
Seth’s been studying hearts for twenty years. He knows every biomarker, every optimization hack, every supplement that promises three more years. But here he was, telling me that my messy, complicated, showing-up-in-pajamas friendships might be better medicine than his perfect VO2 max.
I couldn’t shake it. It turns out I shouldn’t have tried.
Last week, Harvard released research that made me text him immediately: “You were right, and now there’s proof.”
They studied over 2,000 people, examining something called Cumulative Social Advantage. Real, sustained connection across four areas: family bonds, community engagement, emotional support, and shared meaning. Your LinkedIn network doesn’t count. Neither does your holiday card list.
Here’s what stopped me cold: These relationships literally slow aging at the molecular level.
Quality relationships make your cells age more slowly. Your inflammation markers drop. People with strong social connections had younger biological ages; their cells looked younger than their actual ages would suggest.
One researcher referred to it as “biological embedding.” It is where our relationships can literally become embedded in our cells, influencing how we age.
Better than any supplement. Better than any biohack.
Why We’re Starving at the Feast
So if connection is literal medicine, why are 47% of adults reporting feeling isolated?
Why are executives—the people with the most resources, the fullest calendars—the loneliest?
I know why. I hear it in every intake call, every first coaching session, every confession that tumbles out after we get past the credentials:
“It’s been too long to reach out now.”
A CEO tells me she hasn’t had a real conversation with her college roommate in three years. No fight. No falling out. Busy became the default, and now the gap feels too wide to bridge.
“I can’t show up unless I have good news.”
A hospital executive admits he only calls his brother when he has wins to report. The rest of the time? Radio silence. Meanwhile, a founder tells me she just… stopped. Stopped trying, stopped reaching out. Now she sits in board meetings surrounded by people and feels utterly alone.
They’re all starving for connection but can’t remember how to be anything other than impressive. Or busy. Or fine.
We’re waiting for the perfect moment to reconnect. The promotion to share. The success story to justify reaching out.
Meanwhile, we’re aging faster and cells are inflaming because we’re performing connection instead of living it.
What kills me is this: We’ve confused activation with aliveness. We’re so cortisol-driven, so focused on the next achievement, that we’ve lost the ability to just… be with people. We’ve narrowed our emotional range to “fine” and “busy,” and our cells know we’re lying.
The Path Back
Remember what Seth said on that chairlift? The goods that matter.
The goods you already have, maybe buried under a decade of “crazy busy” and “let’s catch up soon.”
You don’t need a grand gesture. You need to stop curating and start connecting—small doses of yourself, shared with one person who might be waiting to hear from you.
I learned this the messy way.
One morning, completely out of the blue, I reached out to a friend I hadn’t seen in over two years. “Happy Diwali. Thinking of you, sending love and grace! Camille.”
Her response humbled me to my core: “Sorry, I’ve been out of touch. I was diagnosed with breast cancer the week after I quit my job, so there’s been a lot of change and healing. But sending you so much love and hugs!”
The text thread that followed was loving, connected, heartwarming, and humbling. And I almost didn’t send that first message because it had “been too long.”
Another time, I knew a former client, now friend, was going through hell. Every time she crossed my mind, I’d drop a quick text. A thought. A spark. An “I see you.” I pushed past my doubt, past my worry that I was being annoying. Four texts went unanswered. On the fifth, she finally responded: “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
Sometimes reaching out is for them. Sometimes it’s for us. Most of the time, it’s for both.
Try This: Specific Noticing
Skip the generic praise. Skip “you’re great.” Instead, notice one thing you actually see in someone and name it. No agenda attached.
“The way you admitted you were struggling in that meeting, that takes guts most leaders don’t have.”
“When you paused to let your kid interrupt our call, I saw patience I want to learn from.”
The neuroscience is clear: Specific appreciation lights up connection circuits in both brains. It shifts us from transaction to presence. From networking to nourishing.
Try one a day for a week. Watch what happens both within you and around you.
Small Shifts, With Cellular Returns
You don’t need two-hour catch-ups. You need two-minute real check-ins.
Change “How are you?” to “What’s actually going on?”
For that friend you’ve been meaning to text for six months, try sending this: “Thinking of you. No response needed. Just wanted you to know.”
Every real conversation is an investment in your biological future. I’m not being metaphorical. Your cells are literally waiting for an authentic connection. They age more slowly when you stop performing and start being present.
What If
What if longevity isn’t about optimization but integration?
What if the answer isn’t another supplement but a real conversation?
What if your next decade depends less on your workout and more on your willingness to be seen?
That ski weekend? What mattered wasn’t the altitude or the alpine air. It was the stripping away. Phones in pockets. Stories that only emerge on chairlifts. Permission to be exactly where we were.
You can create that anywhere. Today. Right now.
One person who deserves to know what you see in them. One conversation where you drop the performance. One moment of choosing real over right.
Your cells will thank you. But more importantly, and Seth would agree, you’ll remember what it feels like to be alive.
Alive. Not activated.
There’s a difference. Your biology knows it. Your friends are waiting for it.
That Harvard research? It found the effects compound over time. Meaning every real connection today shapes how you age tomorrow. If that’s not urgent enough to text that friend, I don’t know what is.