The Reality of 60

Just over a year ago I made a runaway video called “Fear and Loathing at 60”.  I absolutely didn’t understand how six decades had slipped under the bridge and I needed to vent.  I was more pissed than anything because I was comparing my list of desires with my remaining calendar pages … and one of them was coming up seriously short.

In less than four months I’m going to be 62.  Somehow yet another two years have passed.  Are the 80’s really that far away?  Should I start curling into a fetal position now and prepare for the end?

I don’t quite understand time, I suppose.  I quit my job to travel full-time back in December of 2021.  The plan was to hit the road for an extended run and then build out a school bus for an even longer voyage.  Six glorious months of world travel was had … and yet that feels like a lifetime ago.  And have I really been in Mechanicsville Virginia working on this damn bus for four months now?

I don’t have the same shocked feeling about my age anymore.  Sixty, fifty, a hundred and four … they’re just numbers.  But this “Oh, is it Thursday again?” way of life isn’t in my best interests.  But like everything else, change … even change that is desperately desired … is hard.

I’m assuming that you, Dear Reader, are like me in that you have solid ideas of what makes you happy.  Maybe it’s bowling night.  Maybe it’s finding the best paella in Valencia.  It doesn’t matter, something makes your boat float and it’s what makes you smile.  It’s the anticipation.  Knowing that a great reward is just around the corner.  But what happens when that corner doesn’t get any closer and remains the same distance away, month after month, year after year?

That is exactly what 60 feels like.

So Then What?

I have come to several conclusions as I’ve been landlocked here in Central Virginia.  Some of which are so commonplace that you’re going to roll your eyes should I discuss them.  Others … well, they may be revelations to you as well as me.

Health-wise, I’m … not good.  Not “wow, I’m out of shape” but rather “damn the floor is far away, do I really have to bend over that far to pick up my dropped item?”.  I’ve always counted on good genes and youth to get me through things.  Aging (and yes, I now have to admit I’m aging) requires a little more effort.

But everyone knows that exercise and good food are important … so enough of that.  (I just wanted to mention it because I just swallowed yet another ibuprofen to combat some discrepancies in my physical being).

My greatest wisdom at 60 is to understand that deciding to do a thing is only the start.  I decided to quit a career and try another, and that was a wonderful decision.  It’s made a world of difference in my mental health and in my outlook on life.  But it’s not nearly enough.  I need to make that same decision multiple times a day.

Today is Wednesday (for me).  It’s a dreary day outside, I’m waiting on deliveries so I can spend another day working on the bus, and my muscles hurt.  This Wednesday isn’t all that different from last Wednesday.  And the next one?  That’s the decision.  What do I really want to do today?  And I don’t mean physically.

My reality of being in my sixties means that I have to make mental decisions constantly.  So this morning I decided that I wanted to share my thoughts in written form.  I’m enjoying writing this article.  And in about an hour I’ll need to make yet another decision about what will make me content-bordering-on-gleeful.  

When you’re embroiled in a normal life of career, kids, etc. your day is pretty much on auto-pilot.  From 8-5 you do this and in the evening you do that.  Come Saturday you get to do something else.  It’s nice having routine (in a way, I suppose).  But as responsibilities for “others” fades with age one has to be so much more proactive … and that’s not a skill we’ve used much up until now.

The reality of 60 is that we have to actively pilot our lives, every waking moment of every day.  Not as a chore, but as a gift.  How I feel today is completely driven my my expectations and choices.  I can wait for those deliveries or I can explore something new.  I can remember my world travels or I can make solid plans for more adventures.  Being of a certain age means we get the gift of being able to decide all of that and more, each and every moment.

So yea, this is a little pep talk.  Mostly to myself but I’m hoping to you as well.  What am I going to do next on this dreary, un-package-delivered Wednesday?  I guess I better get up and decide.  😎