I'm a sixty-something alcoholic street bum living in Seattle, so you see what can happen when you miss out on those stock options.
To relax, I hide in the library where I enjoy reading well-written private-eye novels and badly-written programming manuals.
For exercise, I mostly power-walk from dumpster to dumpster and do isometric exercises -- arm in front, palm up, hand open.
I used to do a lot of outdoor-type sports like rock climbing (I enjoyed 5.9 slabs and cracks); mountaineering (a couple of trivial first ascents in the Cascades); and backcountry telemark skiing (couloirs two ski-lengths wide with an avalanche trough down the middle).
But as I mellowed with age and my arthritis got worse, it became too hard dodging the avalanches and rock-fall my partners set off. So I graduated to lying around drinking margaritas in summer, leading novices up 5.4 slabs in the spring and fall, and telemarking the blue runs at local ski areas in winter. Inevitably, of course, I graduated to just thinking about it.
For spiritual growth, I go hide in the back row at A.A. meetings, which is nice 'cause it's warm and they might have cookies. My philosophy of life can be summarized as "Que sera, sera."
If I could remember which dumpster I hid the manuscript in, I might try to get my collection of anecdotes published.
The future looks bright as long as I can continue to dodge my outstanding arrest warrants.
I don't have a phone of course. But if you'd like to get together for a double-tall latte (you buy), I do have four or five free e-mail accounts -- only one of which I can use 'cause I can't remember the passwords for the others.