Thanks to the magnetism of the United States and the opportunities it offers, I am enjoying a surge in health and well-being on the heels of my first experience with feeling old.
The story starts, oddly, in 1991. That was the year Mike Ilitch, a pizza proprietor who owns the Detroit Red Wings, together with the team's brain trust, decided to reach deep into Russia to extract one of the world's best hockey players, Sergei Fedorov.
Fedorov had honed his skills under a tough, highly disciplined system that had made the Soviet Union dominant in international play, until 1980. Now, Fedorov wanted out, and had surreptitiously negotiated, and plotted, with the Red Wings.
In the dead of night, Fedorov made his escape from Russia to Detroit, where he became the nucleus of a Russian-centric Red Wings team. He was followed by Igor Larianov and a number of others who restored the Stanley Cup to Detroit after a long absence.
One day, I happened to catch a televised interview with Larianov, who talked about drinking red wine, not for the buzz but for the health effects. That took me by surprise, so I filed the information away for future reference.
Last year, I returned to it, startled by a sudden decline in my vigor. By virtue of good genes, a sensible lifestyle and vigorous exercise, I am used to feeling 30 years old. Suddenly, I was feeling 40. Then I hit 50.
I had to do something. So, my first question was, has Larianov's red wine thing led to anything?
Yes, it had. Researchers had discovered that a substance found in the skin of red grapes had been found to have health benefits with the potential to extend life.
It's called resveratrol. I've been taking it, in concentrated capsule form, for several weeks. I see better. I hear better. My brain works better. I feel as I did in my 20s, and have trouble remembering what 50 feels like.
It shames me to acknowledge that I have absolutely no financial interest in this or any other product based on the skin of the grape.
I'll have to settle for the vigor and the life extension.
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