Prune the habits that drain you - sleep well, lift a little, eat real food, add small adventures - and your 70s will have far more fruit than fuss
I was pruning the tomato vines in my small backyard garden when my neighbor, Mr. Alvarez, waved me over. He is seventy-six, still walks the hilly loop every morning, and keeps a notebook of birds he spots from his porch.
He pointed to my secateurs and said, “You know the secret to getting old?” I braced for a complicated answer. He grinned. “Keep cutting what no longer serves the plant. That includes habits.” Then he showed me how to clip a spent stem to send energy back into the fruit.
I thought about that all afternoon. If we want to live well into our seventies and beyond, we do not need a perfect routine. We need to prune. Say goodbye to the habits that drain our energy, blur our attention, and steal the small joys that make a day worth living.
Here are ten to cut, with gentle swaps that give your years more light and fruit.
1) Skipping strength work because “walking is enough”
Walking is gold for your heart and mood. It is not a full plan. Past seventy, muscle is the scaffolding that keeps you steady, protects your joints, and helps you get out of chairs without a second thought. If you only walk, you risk losing the strength that makes independence easy.
Say goodbye to the idea that steps alone are sufficient. Add two short strength sessions a week. No need for a gym. Chair stands, wall pushups, countertop deadlifts with a tote of books, and a light carry down the hall. Aim for movements that mimic life: push, pull, hinge, squat, carry. Write your mini routine on an index card and check it off while the kettle boils. Strength is a savings account your future self will thank you for.
2) Eating like a teenager and calling it “treating yourself”
Ultra-processed snacks, sugary drinks, and grazing without protein lead to energy crashes, poor sleep, and slower recovery. It is not about restriction. It is about nourishment that keeps your brain clear and your body ready to do what you love.
Say goodbye to the snack-as-meal habit. Build simple plates with protein, fiber, and color. Beans and greens on toast. Lentil soup with olive oil. Tofu stir-fry and brown rice. If you eat animals, small portions of fish or eggs. Keep cut fruit ready and nuts in a jar within reach. Hydrate like it matters, because it does. A glass of water when you wake, one with each meal, one on each walk. Your mood will notice before your lab numbers do.
3) Sleeping like it is leftover time
Short nights make every health issue louder. Memory gets foggy. Balance gets shaky. Cravings spike. Yet many people treat sleep like a luxury. In your seventies, it is the daily repair crew.
Say goodbye to the “I will sleep when I am tired enough” approach. Build a sleepy ritual that starts an hour before bed. Dim lights, light stretch, warm drink, a page or two of a paper book. Put your phone to bed in another room. Keep bedtime and wake time steady, even on weekends. If you wake at night, try a quiet reset: feet on the floor, sip of water, three slow breaths, then back under the covers. Protect your bedroom like a sanctuary. Cool, dark, and quiet wins.
4) Treating screens as your main companion
I love a good documentary and texting photos of my trail runs to friends. Still, screens can quietly crowd out the conversations, crafts, and small adventures that keep minds flexible and hearts warm. Scrolling fills hours without feeding much.
Say goodbye to default screen time. Replace one scroll pocket a day with a human pocket or a hands-on task. Call a friend for ten minutes. Shell peas. Write a postcard. Sort photos at the table. Read aloud to a grandchild or a neighbor’s child. Choose a radio show that ends, so you can stand up and move when it does. Technology is a tool. Do not let it be your whole living room.
5) Avoiding new things because “I am set in my ways”
Routine lowers stress. Rigidity shrinks life. The older adults who stay sharp keep learning in small, low-pressure ways. New routes, new recipes, new card games, new names.
Say goodbye to the sentence, “That is not for me,” when what you mean is, “I have not tried it yet.” Each week, pick one tiny novelty. Add cumin to your soup. Take a different block on your walk and notice five things. Learn two phrases in a new language. Join the library’s tech help hour and ask a question. Your brain loves being a beginner for a few minutes a day. Curiosity is oil for the gears.
6) Sitting through pain instead of addressing it
Aches come with use. Pain that changes how you move or steals your sleep needs attention. Many people quietly accept limitations that a professional could help with, or that a simple routine could soften.
Say goodbye to stoic endurance. If your knee complains or your shoulder pinches, note when, how long, and what helps. Bring those notes to a physical therapist or a skilled trainer who works with older adults. Ask for a three-move starter plan. Ice and heat sensibly. Strengthen around the joint. Walk in shoes that fit the shape of your foot, not the memory of your foot a decade ago. You are not fragile. You are adaptive. Act like it.
7) Keeping your world small “to be safe”
Caution is wise. Shrinking your life to the couch, the car, and the same three aisles is not safety. It is isolation. Social ties, sunlight, and small adventures are as protective as any supplement.
Say goodbye to fear that keeps you home. Build rituals that take you out among people on purpose. The farmers’ market. A weekly café. A volunteer shift greeting visitors at the museum. A tai chi class in the park. If transportation is the barrier, pair up with a neighbor or a grandchild and trade gas money for company. You will sleep better after even a short dose of community.
8) Refusing help until crisis forces it
Asking for help can feel like losing ground. In reality, it keeps you independent longer. People who accept small help early avoid big helps later. A handrail installed today prevents a broken wrist next month. A grocery delivery on stormy days keeps the pantry useful and the body rested for the walks you enjoy.
Say goodbye to the “I am fine” reflex. Practice specific asks. “Can you carry the cat litter to the closet.” “Will you check the smoke detectors with me on Saturday.” “I would love a ride to the concert so I can relax.” Then offer something back that fits your energy. Soup, a book recommendation, plant cuttings, a thank-you note. Mutuality keeps dignity intact.
9) Living without a maintenance plan for joy
Joy needs infrastructure just like your garden. Without a plan, errands fill your days and the color drains out. You do not have to earn delight. You have to schedule it.
Say goodbye to winging it. Create a weekly “joy loop.” One person, one place, one practice. Person: the friend you call Sunday evenings. Place: the bench by the lake on Wednesday mornings. Practice: the playlist you cook to on Fridays. Keep it in your calendar like a doctor’s appointment. Joy returns faster when it knows where to find you.
10) Treating paperwork and planning as tomorrow’s problem
Nothing ages the spirit faster than avoidable chaos. Scattered medications. Unknown passwords. No plan for emergencies. Piles of mail that raise your heart rate when you look at them. Peace is practical.
Say goodbye to the “later” pile. Tackle one category a week. Meds: make a simple chart, set refill reminders, keep a list in your wallet. Money: organize automatic payments and write down who to call for what. Digital life: keep a paper list of key accounts and passwords in a safe place. Medical: a folder with your providers, conditions, allergies, and preferred hospital. Create a “Help If I Am Down” page with three numbers. Give a copy to one trusted person. That folder is not morbid. It is an act of love for yourself and the people who would show up for you.
A few glue habits that make all of this easier
Pair habits. Strength work while the soup simmers. Language practice on your walk. Phone call while you fold towels.
Track lightly. Drop a dry bean in a jar for every day you do two “keep me well” actions. Watch the jar fill. No scolding. Just evidence.
Use “yet.” “I do not like stretching yet.” “I have not found a class I love yet.” The word keeps doors open.
Keep visible cues. Resistance band on the chair. Cutting board ready. Postcard and stamps on the table. Make the good choice the easy choice.
Celebrate boring wins. An early bedtime. A walk on a day you did not feel like it. Shoes that fit your feet today. These are the bricks of a long, good life.
A personal note. As a vegan who runs trails and volunteers at the farmers’ market, I have watched older adults thrive in ways that humble me. They are not superhuman. They are consistent. They prune what drains them and water what lifts them. Mr. Alvarez still walks the hill that used to wind him.
He carries a small notebook in his pocket and writes down the birds he sees and who he talked to that morning. He goes to bed early. He lets me carry the heavier bag when his shoulder hums. He says yes to new tea flavors and no to one more late-night drama series. He laughs most days.
That is not luck. That is design.
If you are in your seventies and reading this, I am cheering for your next good morning. If you are younger, start now. The habits you cut and the ones you plant will be the trellis your older years climb. You do not need perfection. You need a scissors and a watering can, applied most days.
Final thoughts
Living well in your seventies and beyond is less about adding complicated routines and more about saying goodbye to what steals strength, clarity, and connection.
Let go of walking-only plans and add simple strength. Stop eating like a teenager and build plates that nourish. Treat sleep like medicine.
Trade default screens for small human moments. Choose novelty in teaspoon doses. Address pain with notes and a plan. Keep your world broader than your couch. Ask for help before you are forced to. Put joy on the calendar. Tame the paperwork so peace has room.
Prune the habits that do not bear fruit. Water the ones that do. Let your days be sturdy and kind. Your future self will taste the difference.
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