Age is not just a number. And 60 is not the new 40. Sixty is 60. I’m 62 so I know. Often, I can’t believe it. I never imagined I’d be this old. But here I am. Sixty-two.
There is nothing glamorous about ageing. The body changes and in ways you do not want it to change. And no matter what you do, somehow, it’s just impossible to get to the energy levels of your 20s.
I know. Insane goals. I’ve become just like my dad who in his 90s aspired to return to his 30s. I laughed out loud. I’m not laughing now.
Unlike him, though, I don’t want to turn back time. I appreciate the different chapters of my life. I like turning the pages, wondering what’s next. But there are days when I feel nostalgic—when I long for the strength, energy and vitality of youth.
One night, as I sat down to dinner, I announced, “I’m tired.” With a side-eye, my sister said, “And why are you surprised? Did I not see you running for more than an hour earlier?”
“But I’m never tired,” I said, initially with conviction but then with receding confidence.
Often, I feel like a shadow of who I used to be. I’m no longer strong, indefatigable and fearless. Some days, I feel frail, tired and afraid of a lot of things—infection, fracture, permanent injury, disease and debilitation.
And yet, to my friends, I’m concurrently Supergirl and the poster girl for geriatric athleticism.
During the 1st Governor’s Zero Hunger Run two weeks ago, somewhere between kilometer 19 and 21 when our legs and lungs were screaming to get to the finish line, the runner beside me asked how old I was.
“Sixty-two,” I told her. “You probably started running in your 20s,” she said.
I was actually introduced to running at 57 but I started seriously pursuing it only at 59. But by some stroke of a miracle, I’m still at it at 62. And this is why no one believes me when I say I’m tired.
I am often asked how I do it.
You train. And you don’t overthink it. Because if you do, you’re never going to do it. But if you just go on the road and do it, you can do things you never thought possible.
Is it easy to train?
I’m old, tired and sleep-deprived. I face declining VO2 max, loss of muscle mass, joint and cartilage wear, longer recovery times. I function on one and two-thirds kidneys. While I love running, it is not my life. I have a 24/7 job.
The cape is retired but the human is not.
Of course, it’s not easy. But at 62, nothing is easy.
Will I ever do a full? When a half marathon feels like a breeze to me, maybe. But it’s unlikely. I’ve run 25 half marathons and every race still seems hard to me.
Every run is not a good one just as every day is not a good one but as in life, what’s important is to show up, anyway.
There are days when you don’t want to run. Those are the days when you should run. There are days when you don’t want to show up. Those are the days when you should. There are days when you don’t want to carry on. Those are the days when you should hold on.
The body changes with age but so does the mind. The forgetfulness can be funny. But it can also be heartbreaking. Because it can make you feel infirm, inadequate, incapable.
As you age, your body and brain will change. But it’s these changes that will allow you to live life with greater acuity. You will mourn for what you have lost but you will thank God for what you still have. You will take nothing for granted. You will live with patience, humility and gratitude.
Here I am at 62. I no longer like crowds, low lighting and loud music—unless it’s music I’m dancing to.
Age is not just a number. But life can be better.