Sixty is a Myth

I turn sixty next July. My life at this age is not anything like what I expected it to be.

When I pictured sixty, the word that comes to mind now is grandmotherly. Grey hair. A little plump. Socially active. Family at the center of everything. A perfectly nice life, actually. I just assumed it would be mine.

In my forties, my marriage failed. I spent a lot of time with myself. I was raised in a family of long and loving marriages. I had to make peace with the fact that I had made a mistake, and with the possibility that my life might not look like the lives I had grown up around. It took some time, but I came to understand that romantic love wasn’t the only kind of love capable of filling a life. And mine was already full of it.

I invested in my family relationships. I nurtured a few close personal friendships. I surrounded myself with animals who added laughter and love.

Somehow, all of that became the picture I carried of myself at sixty. My life would be smaller. Quieter. Slower. There would be plenty of love and support, but it would come from a small circle of family and friends.

Boy was I wrong.

I don’t feel grandmotherly at all. In fact, I think I am kind of a bad ass.

My weeks are full of pickleball, biking, walking and hiking. I bike 30-50 miles many mornings. I’m not ready for an e-bike. I still love knowing that my legs can carry me over those hills. I feel most free, at ease, meditative, when I am out on my pedals flying over the rolling hills of Old Mission Peninsula in Traverse City. I talk to the deer and other animals along the way.

My goal is to do my athletics for joy, not out of obligation. I don’t feel like I have to win at my life.

For much of my life, I felt conditioned to not take up space. To not make scenes, to mind my own business, to be thinner, to look like everyone else. Blending in is not an easy task when you are a six foot tall woman. As I approach sixty, I have become so comfortable with standing out from the crowd. With letting my hair go as big as possible. With not minding my own business. I want to be more visible, not less.

Love continues to fill my life. But not in a way I anticipated. Romance came storming back in the form of my husband Bruce. After a whirlwind courtship, we married. We have worked to create a union that makes room for our differences and celebrates how much we have in common. There is so much that we enjoy together.

My life in my sixtieth year is bigger. It is louder. And it is still evolving.