One of the things you’re not really taught is how the aging process affects you. When you are young, you look at people who are past retirement age (more or less), and think to yourself, “Man, they’re old.” They look older, so you categorize them that way in your mind.
You don’t think about how they got there, or the changes they’ve undergone mentally, physically, spiritually once they’ve gotten past the age of (pick one) 60, 70, 75. The phrase, “Old age isn’t for the timid” starts to become more real when you begin falling into those age brackets.
You must give a nod to how your body/mind/spirit are evolving (or de-evolving). Recognizing change is important step towards continued growth.
For example, as the days grow shorter, the sun rises later, and as I walk up our long dark driveway early in the morning, it has gotten harder and harder for me to see the past few years. If there is no moon to light the way, it is easy for me to step off the driveway, lose my footing, sprain an ankle. While not catastrophic, the potential for injury is worrisome. Five years ago, this was not a worry.
So, as the earth rotates and the sun rises later and later, I strap a light to my forehead, one of those jogger lights so I can see the asphalt and safely stroll west to pick up our daily newspapers. A comfort zone is created. When winter arrives, the light keeps me from slipping on ice.
Night eyesight is one of those things you notice upon reaching the age brackets noted above. Many years ago, my younger brother sang the praises of yellow glasses advertised for old codgers to cut down on glare while driving at night. All those years ago, I had no issues. Two or three years ago, that changed and I purchased the glasses, now using them sporadically when it is raining and dark.
The glasses don’t change your world. But, yeah, they do help. With road glare reduced you see more clearly and have more confidence driving. Who would have thought?
I play baseball (the real deal) in two leagues, one for players who are 55 and over and one for players ages 62 and over. Suffice to say that just about everybody on both those rosters nurses injuries in the course of the season. One could argue we should stop being stupid and discontinue playing baseball, but that would take away the fun and challenge.
So, we soldier on with a nod to age. This is going to hurt. We’re going to compensate for that. We can’t do this anymore. We have to change how we run, throw, bat to address the limitations of our bodies.
On the negative side, you can view this deterioration with sadness (and there is that), but isn’t all of life and adaptation to circumstances? The well-lived life is accomplished by adapting to circumstances and figuring out the next step. Learn, then live differently.
On the positive side, when you nod to the aging process you fuel whatever comes next in your life. It leads to new things, friendships, events, activities. When you can’t whip a baseball to the plate, maybe horseshoes are your next venue. When tennis causes an elbow problem, perhaps pickleball is in your future.
Regardless of what you nod to there’s something new out there waiting, something that sends you down an unexpected path. The journey keeps you guessing.
You don’t think about how they got there, or the changes they’ve undergone mentally, physically, spiritually once they’ve gotten past the age of (pick one) 60, 70, 75. The phrase, “Old age isn’t for the timid” starts to become more real when you begin falling into those age brackets.
You must give a nod to how your body/mind/spirit are evolving (or de-evolving). Recognizing change is important step towards continued growth.
For example, as the days grow shorter, the sun rises later, and as I walk up our long dark driveway early in the morning, it has gotten harder and harder for me to see the past few years. If there is no moon to light the way, it is easy for me to step off the driveway, lose my footing, sprain an ankle. While not catastrophic, the potential for injury is worrisome. Five years ago, this was not a worry.
So, as the earth rotates and the sun rises later and later, I strap a light to my forehead, one of those jogger lights so I can see the asphalt and safely stroll west to pick up our daily newspapers. A comfort zone is created. When winter arrives, the light keeps me from slipping on ice.
Night eyesight is one of those things you notice upon reaching the age brackets noted above. Many years ago, my younger brother sang the praises of yellow glasses advertised for old codgers to cut down on glare while driving at night. All those years ago, I had no issues. Two or three years ago, that changed and I purchased the glasses, now using them sporadically when it is raining and dark.
The glasses don’t change your world. But, yeah, they do help. With road glare reduced you see more clearly and have more confidence driving. Who would have thought?
I play baseball (the real deal) in two leagues, one for players who are 55 and over and one for players ages 62 and over. Suffice to say that just about everybody on both those rosters nurses injuries in the course of the season. One could argue we should stop being stupid and discontinue playing baseball, but that would take away the fun and challenge.
So, we soldier on with a nod to age. This is going to hurt. We’re going to compensate for that. We can’t do this anymore. We have to change how we run, throw, bat to address the limitations of our bodies.
On the negative side, you can view this deterioration with sadness (and there is that), but isn’t all of life and adaptation to circumstances? The well-lived life is accomplished by adapting to circumstances and figuring out the next step. Learn, then live differently.
On the positive side, when you nod to the aging process you fuel whatever comes next in your life. It leads to new things, friendships, events, activities. When you can’t whip a baseball to the plate, maybe horseshoes are your next venue. When tennis causes an elbow problem, perhaps pickleball is in your future.
Regardless of what you nod to there’s something new out there waiting, something that sends you down an unexpected path. The journey keeps you guessing.