Blood money.

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Blood money. —Or— Why I challenged the fittest guy I know to a fitness contest. - I just sent issue 2 of my free newsletter. Here's what all but 162 of you missed:

The building is way out of the way. Past the U Haul drop-off, the Goodwill, and the dollar store. A bored security guard checks his phone from a folding chair in the parking lot. The place looks like a doctor’s office from the 90s, but smells like a hospital.

I wait in line to check in. Then I’m told to wait in a different, longer line. I need to use one of the touch-screens to create an account. There are three computers to use, but one is out of order.

After twenty minutes, it’s my turn at the kiosk. I put in my legal name, take a photo, and set up a fingerprint scan. Then, a 35-question questionnaire about my lifestyle and habits.

Have you gotten any tattoos recently? Do you shoot heroin and share needles? One a scale of 1-10, how slutty are you? I’m promised this information is confidential and for screening purposes only. I pass without lying.

Wait in a third line. Finally, the last step, the one that involves a human being. It’s 4 years ago, and I’m here to donate life-saving plasma. Not donate it. To sell it, really.

Selling your plasma is like donating blood. But instead of just taking a little, they pump your blood out into a large container — a container you can see — extract the plasma, and then pump the rest back into your body at room temperature along with some filler liquid.

Plasma is used with transfusions to help save people who have experienced severe trauma. Only 2% of the population have my blood type. Blood money.

You can make $50 a session just for sitting in a room with a needle in your arm. The intake process is long, but once set up, the regular donation should be much faster.

Social good aside, I’m embarrassed to be here. But at the time, money was an issue. I'd taken a 20% pay cut to get out of ad tech and work a job that I didn’t hate. My number appears on the screen, telling me to go to booth 4. I authenticate with my new fingerprint scan.

They need to check my blood protein levels and do a routine blood pressure check. The nurse says they’ll do this every time. She puts the cuff around my arm and starts the process. 157 over 107. "I'm sorry," she says. "Huh?" Turns out 157/107 is really, really high.

Stage 2 hypertension. “You’re probably nervous. Wait 10 minutes and we can try again on the other arm.” Calm. Meditate. Breath slowly. Listen to classical music. I don’t feel particularly nervous. I got back in.

148 over 103. Still stage 2. A healthy individual would be below 120/80. “Your blood pressure is too high to donate. You should see a doctor. You can try again in 30 days.”

🔸 Why I challenged the fittest guy I know to a fitness contest Experts say that to lose weight, you need to discover your big Why. For me, it’s to not live a short life. To not leave behind all the people I love when I’m far too young.

Despite this, progress on health and fitness has been up and down since then. Stress management is better. I cut out alcohol. I’m down a few pounds overall. But I’m not where I need to be. And my blood pressure isn’t under 120/80. Holding myself accountable hasn’t been enough.

In business, you can do a thought experiment where you think about what it would take to charge 10x the amount you currently charge. • Who would be your customers? • What would you do differently? • Could you charge 10x as much, but grow more than 1/10th of your current base?

That’s what I’m doing here. I’m raising my prices on my health astronomically. So I sat down, thinking about who is the fittest guy I know right now. It’s @WrongsToWrite, who happens to also be on Twitter and write about similar things to me.

Why not 10x my fitness goal? Why not decide that not am I only going to get fit, but I'll get MORE fit than Dakota. Sounds delusional. 6 feet tall. 220.3 pounds. (183 cm tall. 100 kg.) Weak stamina. Asthma.

I wagered 10x the plasma donation fee on myself that in 9 months, I'll be in better shape than him. And now I've told everyone. So we can all help hold me accountable. Not just me. twitter.com/nicolasmejiar/status/1540334291569238018

🔸 Go get it Are you sitting on your hands about something? Are you ready to go? Find accountability. Share the struggle. Declare in public what you’re up to. Find someone to do your challenge with you. Create a plan. Take the first step.

To get more longer-form thinking in your inbox, subscribe to Uncommon, my free newsletter where I share original insights on writing, business, and mental mastery. uncommon.beehiiv.com/subscribe (and follow me @thatroblennon if you haven't yet)

Blood money.

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