I don’t think about my age much.

Oh, sure… I use moisturizer now. I’m conscious of using sunscreen. I’ve been known to dab some Just For Men (sorry ladies!) on my beard when I’ve had enough of the white. And these days, hangovers hang over too long.

 

But I don’t usually know how old I am without doing some math first.

I don’t really FEEL any older in my body than I did a couple of decades ago.

When I hear people tell me what they’ve given up on something because of some age-related reason/excuse, I always feel a little sad for them.

Really? You don’t think you can anymore? Really?

Once you stop, starting again becomes less likely.

 

I am always inspired at the ski lodges in the morning.

The other day, I chatted with an older woman (mid sixties?) as we clamped our ski boots. She’d been out skiing the previous two days and told me to expect some wonderful conditions. I loved how happy she seemed. I loved her zest. I loved the fact that she appeared to be skiing alone.

Looking around the lodges, I see older skiers everywhere. And they never strike me as old, they strike me as alive.

This will be me, one day.

 

A local paper did an article about a 90-year old man who still loves to ski, skate, and golf. When asked what keeps him out there, he mentioned that he wasn’t afraid of getting hurt… a key point, I thought… something I see that stops lots of people.

And I really liked this quote by him –

“Don’t tell yourself you’re too old to do it….

You’re too old because you don’t do it.”