To be honest, six consecutive days of exercise (three runs, two gym sessions, one bike ride) from Tuesday to Sunday last week was probably more than I should have done – I was wiped out on Sunday evening.
I keep hearing that age is just a number – but I disagree. As I understand it, my age relates directly to the very real matter of the length of time I have been alive. As such it denotes all sorts of cumulations – most notably experience and physical wear and tear – more than ‘just a number’ could only dream about.
I’m happy with the experience cumulation but there is no getting away from the fact that my body has had 20 more years of wear than a 45 year old.
This does not mean that I have to accept slowly sinking into decrepitude without a fight – I plan to be the fittest 65 year old that I can be, but I do realise that I really cannot be a 45 year old any more.
It isn’t that ‘age is just a number’ – it’s more a case of ‘don’t let your age be the determining factor of what you can and can’t do’.
If someone tells me that next year, at 66, I’ll be too old to run my first ultra marathon, I won’t pretend that I’m not 66, I’ll just try to prove that their thinking about 66 year olds is wrong.
Soapbox dismounted.
(an Old Man in Lycra) 