• 37°

Too old to be young, or too young to be old?

It is interesting how your body begins to reintroduce itself to you as you get older. Maybe it’s a way of reminding you that your are still here and alive.

For example, there are times when my right arm sends me a little aching “hello” when I lift it, especially on days when the weather is damp and foggy. Then, just for fun, my hip shouts, “hey” with a tiny jolt of pain.

My knees and legs want in on the act so if I sit with one leg folded under me for more than a few minutes, it kind of refuses to unfold without a complaint. If I’ve been sitting a while, the lower half of the leg disappears when I try to stand on it.

Then there is the often creaky neck and a lower back that wants me to know it is still around. Oh, and even the feet jump in sometimes.

In an effort to let my body know I remember it, I get moving. Yoga stretching is pretty much a miracle for most of what ails me so I do that religiously.

Even with yoga, there are days when the shoulder says, “I am staying with you today; enjoy feeling me when I move.” And sometimes, the neck just wants to be creaky no matter what I do.

Oh, but I’m still alive and moving. For that, I’m thankful.

A few weeks ago,  my husband, daughter and I went to a wonderful production of “The Company” staged by the Troy University Theater Department. The play/musical, which opened on Broadway in 1970, is the story of a man looking at his life as he turns 35.

There was a lot of singing and talking about his age, how he is too young to be old and too old to be young. I almost laughed at that because from where I’m sitting 35 is YOUNG.

Anyway, this got me thinking about how aging is such an interesting experience, and differs for everyone I guess. I’m starting to think it’s as much about state of mind as it is anything else. (Even that achy stuff that keeps reintroducing me to different body parts).

Some folks are old before they reach an age that I consider old. I’ve heard people in their 40s talk about being old — seriously. You are just coming into your prime so hush up.

Then there are those like my mother who said to me the other day, “I guess I just don’t want to admit I’m starting to get old.”

The woman is 93-years-old and in her mind she is only “starting to get old.” I’d like to send her to talk to that 40-something person who thinks he is hitting old age.

Since aging is inevitable and meeting your body where it is at this moment is a choice, I’m going to do my best not to complain when my back reminds me I am not 21.

In fact, I think I’ll honor the twinges that tell me I am alive and breathing. Now, I didn’t say I’d celebrate that I have aching stuff that didn’t ache at 20, 30 or 50. But, I’ll do my best not to dwell on it.

As my wise 93-year-old mother says, “I have to get up and keep moving or I won’t be able to get up and move.”

I know I’m blessed with good health and a body that allows me to do most anything I want to do. So, I’m pledging not to take that for granted.

And, to the playwright who opened a play on Broadway in 1970 lamenting how 35 was too old to be young, that was 48 years ago. How does 35 look to you these days? Does your body pop and creak in the morning?

I’d like to see a musical about a man looking at his life as he turns 83. My mother would tell him he is too young to be old.

It is interesting how your body begins to reintroduce itself to you as you get older. Maybe it’s a way of reminding you that your are still here and alive.

For example, there are times when my right arm sends me a little aching “hello” when I lift it, especially on days when the weather is damp and foggy. Then, just for fun, my hip shouts, “hey” with a tiny jolt of pain.

My knees and legs want in on the act so if I sit with one leg folded under me for more than a few minutes, it kind of refuses to unfold without a complaint. If I’ve been sitting a while, the lower half of the leg disappears when I try to stand on it.

Then there is the often creaky neck and a lower back that wants me to know it is still around. Oh, and even the feet jump in sometimes.

In an effort to let my body know I remember it, I get moving. Yoga stretching is pretty much a miracle for most of what ails me so I do that religiously.

Even with yoga, there are days when the shoulder says, “I am staying with you today; enjoy feeling me when I move.” And sometimes, the neck just wants to be creaky no matter what I do.

Oh, but I’m still alive and moving. For that, I’m thankful.

A few weeks ago,  my husband, daughter and I went to a wonderful production of “The Company” staged by the Troy University Theater Department. The play/musical, which opened on Broadway in 1970, is the story of a man looking at his life as he turns 35.

There was a lot of singing and talking about his age, how he is too young to be old and too old to be young. I almost laughed at that because from where I’m sitting 35 is YOUNG.

Anyway, this got me thinking about how aging is such an interesting experience, and differs for everyone I guess. I’m starting to think it’s as much about state of mind as it is anything else. (Even that achy stuff that keeps reintroducing me to different body parts).

Some folks are old before they reach an age that I consider old. I’ve heard people in their 40s talk about being old — seriously. You are just coming into your prime so hush up.

Then there are those like my mother who said to me the other day, “I guess I just don’t want to admit I’m starting to get old.”

The woman is 93-years-old and in her mind she is only “starting to get old.” I’d like to send her to talk to that 40-something person who thinks he is hitting old age.

Since aging is inevitable and meeting your body where it is at this moment is a choice, I’m going to do my best not to complain when my back reminds me I am not 21.

In fact, I think I’ll honor the twinges that tell me I am alive and breathing. Now, I didn’t say I’d celebrate that I have aching stuff that didn’t ache at 20, 30 or 50. But, I’ll do my best not to dwell on it.

As my wise 93-year-old mother says, “I have to get up and keep moving or I won’t be able to get up and move.”

I know I’m blessed with good health and a body that allows me to do most anything I want to do. So, I’m pledging not to take that for granted.

And, to the playwright who opened a play on Broadway in 1970 lamenting how 35 was too old to be young, that was 48 years ago. How does 35 look to you these days? Does your body pop and creak in the morning?

I’d like to see a musical about a man looking at his life as he turns 83. My mother would tell him he is too young to be old.