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If a patient says, ‘I want more energy,’ maybe the doctor should just write a scrip for methamphetamine. I think of it as only relating to potential. It is just the capacity to generate work. As Richard Maurer, a doctor in Maine who specializes in metabolic recovery, and who encountered me one day last summer as I mumbled about a shortage of it, told me, “ ‘Energy’ is a useless term.

It’s our experience of burning energy, converting it to work. What we commonly call energy is actually our perception of the body metabolizing carbohydrates or fat as energy. “Energy,” though, is a misnomer, or at least an elision. “This has led to a quest for greater ‘energy.’ ‘How can I do more? Doctor, what can you give me?’ ” “Society has progressively increased its demands on us, and with that, therefore, our expectations of what we can or should do,” Maurizio Fava, the chief of the department of psychiatry at Mass General, told me. Energy is why we’ve made a virtual religion of 1, 3, 7-trimethylxanthine, otherwise known as caffeine. Biohackers microdose psychedelics, stick ozone tubes up their butts, or pay fifteen hundred dollars for a seven-hundred-and-fifty-milligram dose of NAD IV. Acetyl-CoA, lipoic acid, arginine, ashwagandha, B complex, carnitine, CoQ10, iodine, iron, magnesium, niacin, riboflavin, ribose, thiamin, Vitamins C, E, and K. CDP-choline, L-theanine, creatine monohydrate, Bacopa monnieri, huperzine A, vinpocetine.

The kind you seek to instill by drinking Red Bull or Monster, plunging into an ice bath, or taking psychostimulants, like Ritalin or Adderall or Provigil. This is the enthusiasm and vigor you feel inside yourself, the kind you might call chi, after the ancient Chinese life force or the pronouncements of the storefront acupuncturist. You know it when you got it, and even more when you don’t. Why do some people have it and others not? What does one have to do to get more?Įnergy is both biochemical and psychophysical, vaguely delineated, widely misunderstood, elusive as grace. Entrepreneurs, athletes, artists, politicians: it can seem that energy, more than talent or luck, results in extraordinary outcomes. Come on, man! It’s hard to measure success, if you want to avoid making it about money or power or credentials, but, as one stumbles through the landscape of careers and outputs and reputations, one sees, again and again, that the standouts tend to be the people who possess seemingly boundless reserves of mental and physical fuel. How does she do it? On the flip side, there are the oversleepers, the homebodies, the spurners of invitations and opportunities, the dispensers of excuses. We may admire or envy or even pity the tireless project jugglers, the ravenous multidisciplinarians, the serial circulators of rooms, the conference hoppers, the calendar maximizers, the predawn cross-trainers and kickboxers. The man in the sweatpants had met the man with the mattress.Īll of us, except for the superheroes and the ultra-sloths, know people who have more energy than we do, and plenty who have less.

At hour five in the desk chair, the document onscreen looked like a winding road toward a mountain pass. Cyclists call this feeling “the man with the hammer.” Applying the parlance to the Sitzfleisch life, I told myself that I was bonking. The endurance athlete, running perilously low on fuel, is said to hit the wall, or bonk. A recent headline in the Guardian: “Extravagant eye bags: How extreme exhaustion became this year’s hottest look.” And yet the mind roamed: Covid? Lyme? Diabetes? Cancer? It’s no HIPAA violation to reveal that, as various checkups determined, none of those pertained. Could one attribute it to the wine the night before, the cookies, the fitful and abbreviated sleep, the boomerang effect of the morning’s caffeine and carbs, a sedentary profession, middle age? That will be a yes. By the standards of my younger years, I was burning the candle at neither end. Still, the ebb, lately, had become acute, and hard to account for.

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