I love knowing how many steps I’ve taken, how well I slept, and that I really need to stand up and stretch. I’m even inspired by folks who use ChatGPT to take the drudgery out of meal planning. But lately, AI has seemed less eager intern and more unhinged gym bro, giving unsolicited lectures about peptides. Case in point: The latest dystopian thing making the rounds — the Death Clock app, tallying how many weekends, sunsets, and full moons you allegedly have left. Add Equinox’s “Question Everything But Yourself” ad campaign with its three-breasted woman, plus a new health-focused version of ChatGPT, and it all starts to feel like wellness AI is getting weird.
Don’t get me wrong, AI has made meaningful advances in medicine, from earlier disease prediction to more personalized treatment plans. But in the current tech moment, using it without oversight can feel akin to deciding to DIY a cure for dysentery, Oregon Trail style… except you don’t have extra lives.
As AI reshapes health care in 2026, here’s what I’m keeping in mind:
Calling yourself a “coach” doesn’t necessarily make you one. Treatment planning, assessment, and form checks still require a trained, credentialed professional who’s been educated, supervised, and tested.
You may not need all the information. AI can now analyze bloodwork for thousands of potential conditions. Sounds great — until results show up without context and send you spiraling. If you’re using an AI health app, know what it can (and can’t) explain on its own.
Read the fine print. Digital health coaches promise personalized guidance by analyzing your data, but that insight comes at a cost: access to your health information. Know where your data lives, who can access it, and how it may be used.
Brains haven’t received this much attention since the infamous ‘80s “This is your brain” PSA. (Not familiar? Watch now. We’ll wait.) And if you do remember it, you’re probably experiencing some perimenopause brain fog and wondering if you need a $12 mushroom tea and a book of sudoku puzzles to ward off cognitive decline.
The difference: Back then, the fear was drugs. Now, it’s “digital dementia,” a buzzy, umbrella term for the effects of our always-on lives: endless TikTok scrolling, GPS for everything, and outsourcing half our thinking to ChatGPT.
Now, brands market “neuros” as the antidote, selling supplements, drinks, and spa treatments that promise to support brain health. The big question is how much these add-ons can actually shape the future of your brain… or even help you remember where the eff you left your keys.
Also important: Brain health doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Science is increasingly looking at the big picture, because cognitive decline is often tied to whole-body health. Conditions like stroke and some forms of dementia are closely linked to what’s happening in the heart and blood vessels years before symptoms show up.
Sleep. Seriously. You’ve heard it before, and you’ll hear it again because it matters. Poor sleep has been linked to faster brain aging, and chronic sleep issues are a known risk factor for cognitive decline. If sleep is a mess, fixing it isn’t “self-care”… it’s preventative care.
Know your family history. A history of Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, stroke, or vascular disease doesn’t mean destiny, but it can shape prevention strategies.
A: This is a common patient complaint during the winter. Patients with gum recession or worn enamel may have exposed dentin, the second layer of the tooth. Dentin is softer than enamel, so when cold air hits the tooth, it travels to the nerve and can cause a sharp pain that usually resolves quickly.
In many cases, simple treatments, like using a night guard or toothpaste for sensitivity, can help. Be sure to see your dentist if the pain lasts more than a few seconds or becomes intolerable.
Despite being a certified personal trainer who knows the benefits of high-intensity interval training, I never choose HIIT workouts at home. For me, it usually takes a group effort. I need a hype playlist loud enough to drown out my inner dialogue and at least a few people to lock eyes with between rounds, for moral support.
But I’ve been making an effort to diversify my solo workouts. And I finally found the motivation to add HIIT into the mix: Research suggests it can help buffer the effects of sleep debt by mitigating some of the damage poor sleep does to the brain and body. Lack of sleep can sap energy, increase insulin resistance, and slow metabolism — a perfect recipe for feeling sluggish.
I don’t need my Oura Ring to tell me what I already know: My circadian rhythm is still off after spending the last two weeks of 2025 traveling. (Why does jet lag hit so much harder after 40?) The good news is that short, regular HIIT sessions — just 10–15 minutes — may help offset the effects of low-quality sleep. For me, that looks like twice a week workouts. Here are three I’m adding into my rotation:
