I Tried Canyon Ranch's New $20,000 Wellness Program — and It Changed the Way I Think About Health

“So, how does it feel to be the ideal human?” asked one of my fellow guests in the very first Canyon Ranch Longevity8 program. She laughed as she said it, but the truth behind the joke was that I was one of the youngest participants, and my A+ health reports so far had already become a funny sort of marvel among the group, almost all of whom were in their early 50s to mid-70s.

I, a travel journalist in my late 30s, was invited to Tucson, AZ, to report on and participate in the launch of Longevity8, a groundbreaking — and intense — medical wellness program. Intense because it requires that you go through 18 clinical consultations, 15 diagnostic tests, and the examination of more than 200 of your health biomarkers, all in four jam-packed days (plus educational seminars, tailored workouts, and one blessed hour in the world-famous spa). The idea is that gathering this immense amount of information about your body and health will empower you to use that data to make targeted changes that will increase not only your lifespan but also your healthspan — your active, still-got-it years — as you age.

Because of the access to cutting-edge testing technologies and face time with world-renowned clinicians — and because it's Canyon Ranch — this program costs $20,000 per person. Everyone alongside me in the inaugural Longevity8 cohort, aside from one other journalist on assignment, had planned, paid, and prepped for this trip — and arrived buzzing with excitement. These were data-brained, health-interested mid-life and older folks who saw the program as worth their while and worth their money. I felt a bit out of place.

I felt like a stowaway in the system because even if I could afford this program on my own (I very much could not), I still couldn’t imagine hypothetically wealthy me actually signing up. Volunteering for 18 doctors’ appointments in four days? What could they really tell me that I didn’t already know?

My number one motivator in joining this trip was Canyon Ranch itself. The historic resort, which also has locations across the U.S. (California, Las Vegas, Massachusetts, and soon Texas), is a storied icon when it comes to wellness travel. Since 1979, Canyon Ranch’s original spot in Tucson has been beckoning travelers from far and wide for its integrative programs: combining the best of Western and Eastern medicine plus all the other things science has long shown help us live healthier, longer (movement, nutritious foods, meditation, the good stuff).

Although the O.G. Canyon Ranch started with some specific focuses, including weight loss and addiction recovery, it has hugely expanded over the years to become a hub for everything from yoga retreats to parenting workshops to art classes to celebrity-led programs (Alanis Morisette was checking in just as I was checking out), and even family reunions or girls’ weekends. The crux of Canyon Ranch’s ever-widening appeal, in my opinion, is its balancing act: This is a resort that just exactly walks the line between making you impeccably comfortable and making you work for your wellness.

For instance, the property is sprawling — 150 acres of imposing Sonoran desert — and I was essentially required to speed-walk across it multiple times a day, looping to and from my room, meals, and sessions. This built-in daily dose of fresh air and walk-jogs made me feel pretty great overall, if not ever on time for my appointments.

The food, too, walks the line: painfully healthful if you look closely at the ingredients — but you’d never know it just by taste-testing. All of Canyon Ranch Tucson's meals at both its central restaurant, Vaquero, and ancillary eateries, like the poolside Double U Cafe, are carefully curated to maximize nutrients and minimize nasties. My favorite dinners were definitely seared Maine sea scallops with miso and a lentil bolognese you’d never guess was vegan. In 2024, Canyon Ranch was awarded Three Keys, the highest honor by Michelin, and it’s clear why. (Due to its recovery-rooted history, the somewhat controversial addition of alcohol on-property didn’t happen until 2024, but it was added in such a careful way — a single tucked-away outdoor bar you have to know to look for — that it feels both sensible and sensitive.)

During our first 24 hours at Canyon Ranch Tucson, the eight of us in the Longevity8 cohort met for intention-setting, meals, and seminars but split off for the lion’s share of the day to get our testing and clinicals done. I met with an MD, a nutritionist, a sports performance scientist, a licensed professional counselor, a personal trainer, a meditation teacher, and a spiritual wellness provider. The nursing team drew about nine vials of my blood and attached a Continuous Glucose Monitor to my arm. They tested my lung capacity, my heart function, and my aerobic health (the latter as I traipsed up an ever-increasing treadmill incline with a mask over my nose and mouth). I slept at night with sensors strapped to my chest and finger. While it wasn’t fun, per se, being poked and prodded and monitored for 12-24 hours out of every day, fun isn’t why we see doctors, now is it?

I did somewhat expect the glowing health reports that started pouring in and leaving my fellow guests joking about little ol’ me, “the ideal human.” I am far from that, but in 2024 America, I know I’m pretty ahead of the game health-wise: I’m a non-smoking vegetarian who exercises regularly and never misses a checkup. But I also know that Doing All The Right Things doesn’t prevent or detect every negative health outcome. So, even after multiple clinicians had applauded my body composition (the muscle vs. fat ratio of a teen athlete!), my glucose levels (it’s like I’m immune to sugar!), and my aerobic fitness (90th percentile!), there was still a part of me waiting for the other shoe to drop. And drop it did.

First, it was a DEXA scan that showed, amazingly, the exact bone density throughout my spine and pelvis, and was able to pinpoint one teeny area veering close to osteopenia. The doctor showed me a graph of how and when it would progress naturally to osteoporosis if left alone. “If you fall when you’re 70,” she said, “you’ll likely break this left hip. Older people … don’t always come back from that.”

This was some unsettling prediction sorcery — but, luckily, there was a solution. Beginning a lower-body weightlifting regimen (one far heavier than the two-pounders I toss around in barre class) today will give me a 30-year head start strengthening my hip before that potential fall. And that knowledge is life-changing.

The bigger shoe drop came with my carotid ultrasound: The scan shows that my artery walls, for no reason other than apparent genetics, are measuring much thicker than is normal for my age — more like a 60-year-old’s than a 40-year-old’s. And arterial thickness is a strong predictor of future heart disease. I was stunned; I had never given heart disease, despite it being the number-one killer of women, a single thought, simply because I have zero of the more obvious risk factors (smoking, meat-eating, being overweight). Suddenly, I was looking up low-cholesterol meal planning, sourcing cardiologist recommendations back home in Nashville, and planning to schedule my next carotid ultrasound in a couple of years. I could have — would have? — been one of those not-yet-old women blindsided by a heart attack they had no idea to expect or prevent. Now, my eyes are open, and I have the privilege of setting up a prevention arsenal.

By the time the results of my Galleri early-detection cancer screening came in, I stared at the words “no cancer detected” and burst into tears. By then, so many of my assumptions about what “being totally healthy” feels like and looks like had been completely called into question that I felt relieved and lucky to simply not have cancer — something I wouldn’t have thought to feel grateful for a few days prior.

Now that I’ve returned home, friends and colleagues have been asking me about my jaunt to the glamorous Canyon Ranch and whether I had “so much fun” or “such a relaxing time?!” I keep having to admit it wasn’t quite either of the above. But it may well have saved my life. At the very least, this trip did exactly what Longevity8 purports to do: It extended my “healthspan” by a few more years in the long run. I’m sure of that.

My plan for those bonus years? Going back to Canyon Ranch and doing nothing but the spa.

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