TUCSON, Ariz. – The Greek yogurt, crunchy granola and sweet berries melted in my mouth.

I had been fasting all morning for bloodwork at Canyon Ranch, a wellness resort where I agreed to participate in all kinds of medical testing for its new "Longevity8" program. I was there to, in theory, learn how I could extend my lifespan, and it was finally time to eat.

This was my second day at the retreat, where I watched the bright Arizona sun beat down on burnt orange roofs (and felt the heat sink into my extremely pale skin). It reminded me of all the testing ahead of me, including a pulmonary function test, a sleep study, a continuous glucose monitor application and more.

The first surprise arrived over breakfast after my bone density and body composition scans. Dr. Diane Downing encouraged me to eat while we talked through my preliminary results.

"So if we look here, you're actually in the osteopenia range," she said, which means I have lower bone density than my peers. It's something she might expect to say to a post-menopausal woman. But not a seemingly healthy 32-year-old man. She pondered: Is there a genetic predisposition? Am I getting enough calcium? Do I have low testosterone? I've been taking HIIT classes and lifting weights. Plus, the only bone I've broken is my right pinky.

The diagnosis slapped me across the face. So did the next one: "If we look at you head to toe, you're at 27.7% body fat." Overweight.

The Greek yogurt sloshed in my mouth, and the granola grated against my teeth. The sweet berries soured.

'Are you sure you want to know all that?'

When I started telling sources I was checking out the longevity program, one comment poked at me like a needle on a saguaro cactus: "Yikes. Are you sure you want to know all that?"

I bristled. Wouldn't I want to know something now, so I could make a change for the better while I'm young? Or worst case, get treated for something sinister lingering in my system?

I'd also soon undergo continuous glucose monitoring, a DEXA body composition, a sleep screening, a breathing capacity and lung function test − the list goes on. I'm in decent shape. I eat right and exercise six times a week, so I thought I didn't have anything to worry about. Maybe I'd learn how to build some more muscle. Maybe I'd figure out how to tone my stomach. Maybe I'd find out how to cope with my irritable bowel syndrome.

What I ultimately learned from the experience: Be careful what you wish for – and don't jump to conclusions about your health until you have multiple pieces of a puzzle instead of one-off results.

'Maybe we're a little under-muscle, not so much over-fat'

"That is ridiculous." My mom and my boyfriend shared the same sentiment after I called them with my bone density and body composition results. They tempered my anxieties about the body weight piece, which weighed (ha) on me. I've been exercising regularly and going to doctor's appointments for every little thing – IBS, knee pain from running, you name it. Wouldn't someone at some point have told me my weight was an issue, if it was? And if it wasn't, why was this result given to me so matter-of-factly? Without context?

Several days of testing and consultation followed – as did more perspective. It didn't quite quell all my nerves about these results but it helped target some areas that could boost my longevity prospects.

Sweat dripped down my forehead and into my eyes as I walked, then ran, then ran even faster as part of a VO2 max assessment that measured what food I'm burning when I run in addition to my oxygen levels. Childhood trauma poured out of me on a therapist's couch. My vertebrae shifted to the left, all of a sudden, when Director of Sports Medicine Brendan Murray helped determine my posture was causing my knee pain – not my running.

I also got more context about the weight piece of it all: "Certainly, most people would look at you and say, 'that guy can't be overweight, can he? No way,'" Mike Siemens, Canyon Ranch's director of performance science, told me in his office, all my results spread out on a round, brown table. "What's going on? So that begins to plant the seed of remembering percent body fat as a percentage of fat to muscle. So it might plant the seed that maybe we're a little under-muscle, not so much over-fat." He outlined an exercise regimen that focused on strength training; my cardio was more under control.

Everyone meant well and wanted to arm me with data and to not stress me out. That was most clear after I returned home to Washington, D.C.

More on exercise:What is aerobic exercise? And what are some examples?

My health is 'above average' – what does that mean?

A few weeks later, once I was home, the medical team followed up with more insights in a virtual call: I had moderate sleep apnea; a slightly thicker artery that could put me at a higher risk for heart disease down the line; plus they found evidence of lactose intolerance and increased risk for celiac, among other smaller concerns. They made recommendations for how to handle each finding, including cutting out lactose for a week to see how my body responds. I'm skeptical – but I guess I won't know until I try at some point.

And overall, my health is "above average," director of nutrition Eric Williamson reassured me. That felt nice to hear, after going over many of my test results from my time at Canyon Ranch. Still, it couldn't help but feel like it came too late. I knew they had to wait for my results to give me something all at once, but trickling in information didn't sit well with me. I wonder if the people who go through the "Longevity8" program are ready for all the information they're going to get.

Outside experts – and pretty much every friend or relative I've talked to, and also my therapist – has told me to take all these results with a heaping tablespoon of salt. And to Downing and Williamson's credit, they tried to reel back my concerns and remind me of the good test results, too.

There was one person I really wanted to talk to, though, who I couldn't.

Noted:Are you getting enough vitamin C per day? And why it matters.

What I'm taking away from Canyon Ranch

I couldn't help but think of my dad, a primary care physician who died of a rare neurological illness called Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease, known as CJD, more than two years ago. Testing for this gene was not a part of the Canyon Ranch program; we are unaware if his case was genetic and I've decided I don't want to know. I wish I could've consulted him about all these results. But thinking about him also crystallized the thing about longevity: We are all going to die of something. All we can do is try our best to be healthy.

And I'm already doing my best. I am "above average" when it comes to my health.

So, am I glad I went? Yes. Do I wish the data was presented differently to me, and with more care? Yes. I internalized the weight and bone density results more than I probably should have. But if I can optimize my workouts and otherwise gain insight on some other facets of my health, I'm all for it.

"Yikes. Are you sure you want to know all that?"

No. But I do now. So it's up to me to decide what to do about it.

The reporter on this story received access to these services from Canyon Ranch. USA TODAY maintains editorial control of content.