Every older person I’ve ever known warned of their coming.

The inevitable aches and pains of a 50-year-old body are real and are manifest after the simplest tasks.

A couple of days painting. A rowdy soccer match. Too much standing. Too much sitting. Too much exercise. Not enough exercise.

It doesn’t matter. Muscles and joints and sinew and ligaments don’t bend and stretch or hold up to stress as they used to 25 years ago. I twisted my ankle walking the dog the other day. Walking. Not running or hiking or doing something strenuous.

I was walking a dog on a golf course.
I’ve walked with a mild limp for the past two days.

Another 25 years of wear and tear will result in a new slew of aches and pains, I’m sure.

I’m not a fan of the aging body syndrome that every one of us has inherited.

That said, I wouldn’t go back 25 years, even for the physique of 25-year-old. I’d much rather have a 50-year-old mind and 50-year-old emotional intelligence.

There’s a connection.

To be clear.
Not every older person is wise.
Nor every young person is foolish.

But, for me, age has brought on a focus and intensity of purpose without the posturing and the urgency to prove myself that the 25-year-old version of myself so desperately needed.

I’m grateful for this grace.

Wisdom is not found in how much one knows. It’s in recognizing how little one knows because wisdom sees that there’s a bigger scheme and a grander plan than ever realized.

So, yes, I do see this shell decaying.
But I also see the inside renewing everyday. For that, I will not lose heart.