We just got back from a week in Maine, and as I confessed earlier, I am a sucker for fall colors. But evidently, I am too young to be a leaf-peeper. Or at least according to the rental car guy.
A couple of days later, a young person passed us on a hiking trail and commented, “This trail is tough, even for someone my age.” He was clearly a lot younger. It was a challenging hike, but come on. Am I, are we, too old to do tough trails?
Apparently, some people would say I am not acting my age, but what does that mean anyway?
What should one be doing at a certain age? Who came up with the rules?
I understand the basic age-development continuum for certain milestones. We get our first teeth, take our first steps, learn to talk… all generally within a predefined timeframe. But does this apply to adulthood and (ahem) middle age?
I don’t know about you, but I still feel a bit like a teenager. Or at the very least, those years do not feel that far away. My twenties – I still have a sweatshirt from the 90s. (Don’t judge.) The third and fourth decades feel like they were just yesterday. And for the most part, I still do many of the same things I did when I was younger, and I might even be a little more adventurous now, as a mature-something, than I was as a shy teenager!
So what is age? Is it just a number? A time marker? But what does it really tell you?
I know an 87-year-old who still hauls a 30-lb backpack on the trail and spends nights camping in the mountains. And I know younger people who knit and crochet and read books.
You know what that tells me – people do what they love to do at any age. There is no age requirement or limit we should be abiding by.
I love fall colors. Who says you need to be a septuagenarian to enjoy the changing of seasons? I also love hiking. Who says you can only tackle the steepest and unconventional trails as a 20-something?
If there is anything I have learned in my half-century on this glorious Earth (ok, maybe I am a little old), it is the imperative to write my own story. To set my own rules. Build my own path. Find my center. Follow my compass. So, in the end I can proudly echo Frank Sinatra’s message…”I did it my way…”
I didn’t always know this. Or believe this. I’ve always thought of myself as more of a rule follower. And I have done my share of following. Yet, I broke a few of society’s conventional ideas. I climbed the career ladder but got off when I should have been reaching the top rung. Marriage didn’t enter the picture until I was 41. I didn’t have children. I moved 10 times in 10 years. Not exactly the “traditional” life.
Perhaps I’ve been teetering between rule-follower and rebel for longer than I realize. Perhaps I’ve been trying to do it my way all along, and only now giving myself full permission to do so. And perhaps THAT is what I should be doing at my age.
And maybe that is the message for anyone at any age. Do it your way. Follow your inner compass. Write your own rules. Who cares if someone thinks you’re too young or too old or too this or too that. I think you’re just right.
