Letter No. 11 · Dec 14, 2025 Getting Fit at 40: What Cardio and Beetroot Changed for Me. 4 minute read
Starting Late
A book, a few letters, and an honest record
Letter No.11 / 17
PublishedDec 14, 2025
Filed underBody
Reading length~4 minutes · 899 words

Getting Fit at 40: What Cardio and Beetroot Changed for Me.

not a protocol. just what I noticed when I finally started looking after my body.

This essay describes changes I noticed in my own fitness and sex life. It is not medical or exercise advice, and it does not claim that cardio or beetroot will treat erection problems.

What I read: Gerbild et al. (2011), Journal of Sexual Medicine via PubMed reviewed aerobic exercise in men with arterial erection problems. Lansley et al. (2011), Journal of Applied Physiology via PubMed studied dietary nitrate and exercise performance. Neither paper proves that my own changes had one cause or that beetroot treats erectile dysfunction.

I want to separate this from the framing it usually arrives in, because the framing is almost always wrong.

In the corner of the internet that talks loudest about men's physical self-improvement, fitness is primarily a status argument: lift weights, look a certain way, attract a certain kind of attention, establish a certain position in a social hierarchy. The gym as dominance tool. The body as competitive signal.

That is not what I am describing. What I am describing is simpler and more useful. I spent most of my thirties in a body I was not looking after. The difference between that body and a body being properly maintained turned out to matter in ways that were practical, concrete, and genuinely unexpected.

What I read after noticing the change

After I noticed a difference, I went looking for context. Erections involve blood flow, and cardiovascular health can be one part of erectile function. A 2011 review found that aerobic exercise improved scores among men whose erection problems were linked to arterial causes and cardiovascular risk factors.

That did not prove why my own experience changed. I was also less anxious, more experienced, sleeping differently, and living a different life. Fitness was one change among several, not a controlled experiment.

The research gave me a plausible context rather than a diagnosis: looking after my cardiovascular health could support the same body I was asking to be present during sex. It was another reason to keep doing something that was already improving my energy and stamina.

What this meant in practice

I started taking my physical health seriously in my early forties, later than I should have. Gym, better food, cardiovascular work. Not a transformation programme, not a protocol. Just the basics done with some consistency.

The changes that followed were incremental and unsexy in the way real physical improvement always is. Stamina improved. Energy improved. The cardiovascular baseline shifted, until the body was functioning at a level of basic competence rather than managing on reserves it didn't have.

The connection to sexual performance felt more direct than I expected, and I say this as someone who went into exercise with no particular expectation about it. The body that had been anxious and unfit in its first sexual experiences felt different once it was being maintained: more present, more capable, less likely to be working against itself. The difference was not dramatic in any single encounter. It was cumulative — a baseline shift rather than a single transformation — and it was real to me.

Beetroot

I want to include one specific detail because it was part of what I tried, not because it is a treatment recommendation.

Dietary nitrates are found in beetroot and are converted through a process that involves bacteria in the mouth. The University of Exeter study linked above found that dietary nitrate reduced the oxygen cost of exercise and improved high-intensity exercise tolerance in its small group of healthy men.

That study did not measure erectile function. I cannot turn a plausible connection into proof that beetroot changed my sex life. I can only say that beetroot became one small part of a larger fitness routine and that I felt better in the body that routine produced.

I also learned that oral bacteria participate in nitrate conversion, which made the relationship between mouthwash and dietary nitrate more complicated than I had realised. I did not treat that fact as a reason to ignore dental advice or to prescribe a mouthwash rule for anyone else.

The ideology, briefly

The manosphere version of this argument is that physical self-improvement is primarily about attracting women, establishing status, and winning in a zero-sum competition for resources. This framing is wrong in ways that matter — it is built on a model of human relationships as dominance competition, which is not a model worth importing even if the gym itself is useful.

The version worth keeping is simpler. My body was worth looking after, not because of what it signalled to other people, but because I lived in it. The sexual-performance dimension was one part of a larger change: more stamina, more energy, and a greater sense of being present in the life I had finally started.

I did not use a transformation programme, a coach, TRT, or a complicated supplement stack. I used ordinary exercise and consistency. That is my account of what I did, not a claim that another person needs the same plan.

The physical dimension of sexual performance and the anxiety dimension interact directly. The mechanism of anxiety-based ED, and the practical bridge that interrupts it, is covered in detail here. And if the broader pattern of performance anxiety — the feedback loop, the first time it happens — is the part you're looking for, that's covered separately.


This article is what I noticed and the research I read afterward. The book carries the contrast — what it felt like to be inside a body that was not being looked after during the first sexual experiences, and what changed when it finally was.

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The book

This article is what I noticed in my body. The book has the before and after — what it actually felt like to show up in a body that was finally cooperating.

Fifteen chapters, about 35,000 words. Everything in the field notes, but with the connective tissue — the full account of how a life goes quiet and how it comes back. $5.99, once.