Chapter 3: The Great Supplement Odyssey (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Trust a Mycologist)

The Quest Begins

You’d think finding the perfect, no-nonsense electrolyte supplement for a physically demanding job and a midlife body that refuses to quit would be simple.

Step 1: Identify the need—check.

Step 2: Seek out recommendations from people in my peer group—done.

Step 3: Feed the search engine a few carefully chosen keystrokes and claim my prize—ha. Hahahaha.

Naïveté, thy name is Keith.

What followed was a descent into the algorithmic abyss, where paid ads masquerade as “best reviews” and the most visible results belong to those who bought their way to the top. YouTube wasn’t much better—clickbait thumbnails of shredded fitness influencers holding up neon-colored drinks while promising “INSANE GAINS” and “LIFE-CHANGING BENEFITS” at the low, low price of my remaining dignity.

I went to bed defeated, dreaming of a world where useful information wasn’t buried beneath SEO-optimized nonsense.

And then, in the misty realm between sleep and wakefulness, I received a divine message:

“You must go forth and seek the wisdom of the bald man who once made people eat bugs for cash.”

Ah, of course. Joe Rogan.

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Enter: The Mycelium Messiah

This is where things get weird.

Paul goes exploring(concept)

During my research binge, I stumbled upon Paul Stamets—a real-life, world-renowned mycologist and the guy that Star Trek: Discovery named a character after (yes, seriously). Unlike the usual charlatans selling magic powders on Instagram, Stamets is the real deal—a scientist obsessed with mushrooms, immune-boosting compounds, and generally hacking the human body with natural compounds.

His credentials:

✅ Grew up exploring the forests of Northern California.

✅ Fell in love with fungi and turned a hobby into a lifetime obsession.

✅ His wife was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer, and in an act of desperate brilliance, he combined seven different mushroom species in an attempt to help her body fight back.

✅ It worked. (Yes, really.)

✅ He launched Host Defense, a line of mushroom-based supplements designed to enhance memory, stamina, immunity, and overall longevity.

Paul’s cancer-free wife (concept)

Was this the moment I became a mycology believer? Maybe.

Was it also the moment I pulled out my credit card and ordered a few bottles? Absolutely.

But first, let’s talk about the other thing I ordered.

I actually don’t mind the taste. Just sweet enough to clear that grassy taste.

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AG1: The Green Powder That Stuck

Before I went full “mushroom wizard”, I started with something more mainstream: AG1 (Athletic Greens).

AG1 (Athletic Greens)

🟢 Use Case: Every morning before work, sometimes in the afternoon.

🟢 Duration: 4 years (and counting).

🟢 Primary Benefit: No more muscle cramps. Ever.

🟢 Bonus: Works as a quick meal replacement when I’m on the go.

🟢 Anecdotal Verdict: Legit. It does what it says, and my legs no longer betray me like a bad subplot in a soap opera.

With my hydration sorted, I turned my attention to Stamets’ mushroom arsenal.

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The Mushroom Experiment

Host Defense: Cordyceps (The Stamina Booster)

🍄 Use Case: Taken when I know I have a long day on set.

🍄 Duration: 4 years (on and off).

🍄 Claimed Benefit: Strength, endurance, and energy.

🍄 Tested Benefit: Confirmed. Kicks in around 20 minutes post-ingestion, and I can feel the difference for at least 4 hours.

🍄 Anecdotal Verdict: If I had this in my 20s, I’d have been unstoppable.

Host Defense: Lion’s Mane (The Brain Booster)

🧠 Use Case: Taken sporadically—until I started noticing something.

🧠 Duration: 4 years (off and on).

🧠 Claimed Benefit: Memory, cognitive clarity, overall well-being.

🧠 Tested Benefit: This is where things get interesting.

At first, I didn’t notice much—until I stopped taking it for a while.

Then:

🔹 Didn’t need to check my grocery list—I just remembered.

🔹 Started recalling names and details from the past with bizarre clarity.

🔹 On set, a light needed a replacement bulb. Without thinking, I blurted out “DPY”—the code for a tungsten 5K bulb—something I hadn’t consciously memorized, but there it was, surfacing like I was a protagonist in a budget-friendly version of Limitless.

Could this mean that Lion’s Mane was actually working?

Was I about to bio-hack my way into next-level learning?

There was only one way to find out.

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Next Mission: Learning to Code with a Mycelium-Enhanced Brain

Your digitized office of the future.

If Cordyceps could keep me on my feet for a 14-hour shoot, and Lion’s Mane could make light bulb codes magically resurface from the depths of my memory, then I had to ask myself:

What else could I learn?

More specifically…

Could nootropics help me tackle something as complex as programming?

Because if video gamers could translate their hand-eye coordination into real-life racing skills, then maybe—just maybe—I could translate this new mental clarity into something meaningful.

I’d already been toying with Python. Now, it was time to test it under enhanced conditions.

The Next Experiment:

🧪 Test: Python learning, with and without nootropics.

🧪 Goal: See if Lion’s Mane improves my ability to retain coding knowledge.

🧪 Methodology:

• Baseline: Track how much I can remember from coding exercises naturally.

• Supplement: Take Lion’s Mane consistently for a month.

• Retest: Compare results and see if the “Limitless” effect is real.

Was I about to find out if my brain had an extra gear?

Time to f_ck around and find out.

To be continued…

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Final Thoughts

What started as a simple search for electrolytes spiraled into a full-blown deep dive into biohacking, cognitive enhancement, and fungi-based performance boosters.

Did I expect to end up here? Absolutely not.

Am I complaining? Also no.

Because if this works, I’ll have proof that nootropics can help people tackle daunting new skills—like coding, problem-solving, or learning something totally outside their comfort zone.

And if it doesn’t?

Well, at least I’ll have incredibly strong stamina, no muscle cramps, and a photographic memory for light bulb codes.

Stay tuned.

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IF YOU’RE CURIOUS:

Disclaimer: This is not a paid endorsement. The products mentioned are ones I personally use and find valuable. No sponsorships, no affiliate links—just honest recommendations. Some images are mockups, or digital interpretations of the actual product.

For me, this green stuff eliminated my work related muscle cramps. Try AG1

The road to performance memory is paved with mycelium. Check out https://hostdefense.com/

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Concept & AI-Rendered Art by Athena (In collaboration with Keith DeCristo)

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CHAPTER TWO: CHARLEY DON’T SURF

Fun Fact:

The phrase charley horse—used to describe a muscle cramp—allegedly dates back to 1880s baseball, when players likened their leg spasms to an old, limping horse named Charley who worked the ballpark.

Charley? Say it ain’t so!

Therefore, I believe Charley’s ghost is the one who stormed into my bedroom at exactly the witching hour, hellbent on revenge, and inflicted such a violent cramp in my right calf that I woke up convinced an actual horse was standing on me.

Now, here’s where you might start to question my sanity—not for accusing a famous ghost horse of assault, but for how long Charley’s name stayed at the top of my suspect list. The reason? Lack of a better answer.

I’d already been guzzling water like it was my job.

I even drank those neon-colored Gatorades I hate.

I’d seen joggers in Central Park swear by Pedialyte, so I found the flavor that sucked the least and carried it to work like a damn security blanket.

I even fell for the “French vitamins = instant health” logic and dropped real money on some overpriced, high-vibe electrolyte powder.

And yet, at exactly 3 a.m., I still found myself crippled by a charley horse from hell.

So what went wrong?

If I trusted the product, then logic points to environmental factors.

Or… Charley really was out for blood.

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The Perfect Storm

A charley horse at 3 a.m. is annoying. A charley horse in my world is a problem.

A) My job is physically & mentally demanding.

Let’s be honest—fun jobs are easy to love. But love or not, work is work, and high mileage is high mileage.

Steven Spielberg, in an old behind-the-scenes interview, once said that his most critical pre-production ritual was:

1. Hit the gym.

2. Lift like hell.

3. Prepare for battle.

The Grocery Getter.

B) I ride a motorcycle.

The FDR at rush hour is not a road.

It’s a psychological experiment in how quickly one human can learn to despise all other humans.

If you’re going to survive that stretch of asphalt lunacy, you’d better have a fast reflex, precise control, and zero hesitation. And as I nearly found out the hard way, there’s no “almost” in motorcycle physics.

C) I play video games.

Somewhere out there, an old TED Talk once compared active-duty Navy SEALs with elite Call of Duty players.

• In multiple categories, their reaction times were nearly indistinguishable.

• In some cases, the gamers were faster.

There can be only one.

Which made me think: if playing a game can train split-second survival skills, then what else could be optimized?

And, let’s be real—this wasn’t just about survival.

I was one of those kids who walked into a movie theater in 1977, saw Star Wars for the first time, and walked out convinced I was going to fly an X-Wing one day.

A younger me about to discover something good…(concept)

It wasn’t until I discovered women that I set that dream aside.

But now? I see no practical reason not to fly one.

Which made me think: if playing a game can train split-second survival skills, then what else could be optimized?

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The Solution Was Obvious.

A turbocharged, gamer-tested, SEAL-team-certified supplemental supplement from my exact peer group.

All I had to do was find a guy my age, working a physically brutal job, who also had the mental endurance and reflexes sharp enough to ride a motorcycle every day and get home in one piece.

Did the Mayor of Easytown just hand me the key to the city?

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Concept & AI-Rendered Art by Athena (In collaboration with Keith DeCristo)

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Chapter One: Rolling on a new take.

Welcome to chapter one: The Midlife Code Crisis
(Or, How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love Python)

Our story begins on the set of a Hallmark Channel Christmas movie. The effects department had conjured a flawless, swirling snowstorm. The art team transformed the set into a holiday wonderland, decking every storefront and lamp post in festive cheer. Wardrobe had carefully curated a lineup of winter coats, scarves, and boots—each ensemble a masterclass in cozy, Christmas-card perfection.

It would have been like any other night doing the job I love—if not for the brutal, oppressive heat.

Because here’s the thing about Christmas movies: they don’t film in December. By the time those heartwarming, twinkling-light-filled moments hit your screen, the production crew has long since packed up and moved on. Holiday specials have to be shot months in advance, and this one, in all its tinsel-clad glory, was being filmed in the dead heat of August.

The humidity was suffocating. The air was thick and unmoving, as if some vengeful deity had decided to smite our production with a weaponized heatwave. Every crew member was drenched. The actors—swaddled in layers of winter wool—were on the verge of heatstroke. It felt like we were filming inside a malfunctioning sauna.

Not a fan of those crazy colored sports drinks.

I’d been guzzling water all night, trying to stay ahead of the dehydration. I’d even choked down those neon-colored Gatorades I hate. But no amount of fluids could stop what happened next.

A sharp, searing pain shot through my right leg. I barely had time to register it before my knee buckled.

A PA rushed to my side, grabbing my arm. “You okay?”

I nodded, more out of habit than honesty. The pain was vicious. I tried to stand, but my leg wasn’t interested in cooperating.

The Muscle Cramp from O.U.C.H.

“You need to stay hydrated, pal,” the PA said, handing me another bottle of water.

I wanted to tell him that hydration wasn’t the problem—that I’d been drinking more water than humanly possible—but I just nodded again and took the bottle.

That’s when one of the Teamsters, a guy in his late sixties, strolled past and chuckled. “We ain’t getting any younger, pal.”

And there it was. The thing I hated hearing.

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Not the oasis I needed. (concept)

I forced a smile, pretending I didn’t want to hurl my water bottle at him. Instead, I gritted my teeth and pushed myself up onto my feet, each step an act of defiance. My knee screamed in protest, but I kept moving, fueled by something far stronger than the pain—resentment.

Because I’d heard it too many times.

“You’re getting older.”

“This job takes a toll.”

“Time is undefeated.”

It was always the same tired refrain, as if aging was a pre-scripted tragedy, an unchangeable fact, like gravity or taxes. But I refused to buy into that. Injuries, fatigue, the slow creeping entropy of time itself—they were all just systems, and if there was one thing I knew about systems, it was that they could be hacked.

I just needed to figure out how.

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“You realize time is your enemy, right?”

Joe was leaning against a cable cart, watching me limp back to set. He was an Army veteran, a fellow lighting tech, and a guy I’d known for years. He lit a cigarette and handed me one.

“Do you really think you’re the first guy to dream about stopping it?”

I exhaled a slow breath, lit my cigarette, and met his gaze.

“I don’t have to stop time,” I said, rolling my sore knee absentmindedly. “I just need to change the way it defines us.”

Joe smirked, shaking his head. “And how the hell are you gonna do that?”

I took another drag and smiled.

I had no idea.

But I was going to find out.

And that’s how this whole thing started.

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On set with Joe, bringing stories to life.

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Concept & AI-Rendered Art by Athena (In collaboration with Keith DeCristo)