The occasions that come round once a year, counted until the projected lifespan. Add up to four; yours might not be ours.
An experiment by Itch Studio, John Durcan, the studio behind TimerStack and Bark Back. Everything you enter stays in your browser.© 2026 Itch Studio Ltd
Your age, sex and country give a starting number: how long people like you tend to live. Then everything you tell us moves it, up or down, by roughly what the research says it is worth: smoking most, then exercise, weight, friends, money, sleep, drink, diet, heart rate, pets and the rest.
"Fully capable to" is the age where things start to fade: sooner if the odds are against you, later if they are not. Each activity fades in its own order, skiing and running first, walking and a clear mind last.
It is averages applied to one person: not a prediction, not medical advice, and it knows nothing about your actual health.
Sources, for the curious: national life tables (ONS, Eurostat, CDC, Japan's MHLW, the UN); Doll on smoking; the Global BMI Mortality Collaboration on weight; Moore on activity; Wood on alcohol; Cappuccio on sleep; Holt-Lunstad on relationships; Kramer on dogs.
Where you live changes the starting number more than almost anything else you cannot control: from about 69 in India to over 87 for a Japanese woman.
The figures are the latest each country's statistics office has published (ONS 2022–24, Eurostat 2024, CDC 2023, Japan 2025, the UN for the rest). The bigger groupings, Nordics, Rest of Europe and Rest of World, are averages, so your own country may sit a year or two either side.
Each row is a year of your life and each cell a day (or a week or a month, from the zoom control), January on the left. Grey is lived. Green is ahead, darker where you will probably still be able to do the thing you have chosen. The orange ring is today; the dashed line is your projected lifespan.
Lived / Both / Remaining fades one side of today so the other stands out, and turns every number on the page to face the same way.
Each suggestion is one change to what you told us, and the days it would give you. The biggest is at the top. The ones without a number are about catching things early rather than adding days.
None of it is medical advice. It is a reason to have a conversation with someone who can look at you rather than at averages.
Every occasion is counted once a year from today until the end, and the smaller number is how many of them you will still be fit for. Moving festivals are counted on a typical date.
Add your own with a name and a date: an anniversary, a saint's day, the first morning of the season.
The date is what your projected years come to on the calendar. Half the people like you will have gone by then and half will still be here, and the honest spread is a decade either side.
The star sign, zodiac animal and the line that goes with them are a joke, and a gentle one. The comets, eclipses, transits and anniversaries are not: every one is fixed by the sky or the calendar, and "you'd be 85" is just your birthday subtracted from it. "Touch and go" means it falls within three years of your date; what you change decides it.
This is the hand you were dealt and the two cards you can still play. Your age, sex and country set how long people like you tend to live, and there is nothing to be done about those.
Weight and resting heart rate are yours to move. Keep your BMI under 25 and it costs you nothing; above 30 it costs years. Every ten beats you take off your resting heart rate is worth about a year, and it falls on its own as you get fitter.
These are the levers you pull every day, and they add up to more than most people think.
Two and a half hours of exercise a week is worth about four years over doing none: the best deal on the page. Seven or eight hours of sleep costs nothing; five costs a year and a half. Alcohol is free up to about a bottle and a half of wine a week, then starts to charge. A better diet is worth a year a notch.
Smoking is the big one at eight years, most of which come back within a decade of stopping. Stress and the addictions below each cost a little. Coffee, oddly, gives a little back.
The people around you are worth as much as most of the habits.
A partner adds about a year and a half for a man and most of a year for a woman. Friends you actually see, every week, are worth two and a half years; loneliness costs the same, which puts it in the same league as smoking.
Children do not lengthen your life, but they decide how many school years you have left with someone at home. A pet is company on legs, and worth up to a year and a half.
Money buys years, mostly by buying time, calm and a doctor's appointment when you need one. Feeling stretched costs about three years; feeling secure adds about two and a half.
The age you plan to stop full-time work does not change how long you live, only how many working days you have left, which you may or may not count as a loss.
A dog is a walk you cannot skip and someone glad to see you when you get home, and the numbers agree: dog owners live longer, and the effect is strongest for people who live alone or rarely see friends.
So a dog is worth most of a year, and a year and a half if you are short of company. A cat is worth a few months; the evidence is thinner, but the company is real. Both together is a little more than a dog, not double.
None of it is proof, since dog people tend to be healthier to begin with. But the walk and the company are yours either way.
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