I don’t remember where I found this, but I like it. It may have come from my minister friend, Barbara. It sounds like something she’d share.
Youth gives you speed. Aging can give you mastery and mastery is far more powerful. The people who glow later in life didn’t escape aging. They befriended it.
There’s a funny thing about aging that nobody tells you when you’re young. When I was younger, everything felt like a race. I needed to hurry up, catch up, keep up. My parents didn’t pressure me to be or do anything, but my dad always stressed giving whatever I chose my best shot. “Whatever you choose to be, be the best one. If you want to be a ditch digger, make sure you dig the best.”
Sometimes I ran to be first, but I was never fleet of foot so that didn’t always go well for me. I recall the last time I ran. Really ran. David and his crew had just moved to Hamilton. Brady was in kindergarten and a group of new friends were playing wiffleball in the yard. We used paper plates for bases and stuck sticks through them, so they’d stay in place. When it was my turn to bat, I made a nice hit. But then I ran the bases. I pulled a muscle in my butt. I think they call it your gluteus maximus. Anyway, I broke mine playing whiffle ball when I was about sixty-two. Seems like yesterday. I haven’t really run since then. I’ve jogged a bit, but not for several years.
Youth gives you speed. You can sprint, leap, start over, and bounce back but somewhere along the way, speed stops being the point. Aging, if you let it, trades speed for something far more powerful: mastery.
I’m not talking about the loud, chest‑thumping kind. I’m talking about the quiet, steady kind that settles in and treats you well. It’s the kind that comes from living long enough to know what matters, what doesn’t, and what you’re finally willing to let go. It’s the mastery of knowing yourself, trusting your own voice, and not needing to prove a thing to anyone.
The people that I’ve come to know later in life, the ones who seem happy in their own skin, didn’t escape aging. They learned to adjust and give it their best shot. Just like my dad encouraged me decades ago.
They stopped treating time like an enemy and started treating it like a companion. They learned to listen to their own wisdom instead of chasing every distraction. They let go of the need to be first and embraced the freedom to be themselves without worrying what others may think.
Mastery shows up quietly. One day you realize you’re not rushing anymore. You’re choosing to be deliberate. You set and keep your own pace. You see the world more clearly.
Aging isn’t a decline. It’s learning how to handle whatever comes your way. That’s what I like most about hanging with my peeps. We talk about our lives. We share without worrying about who’s better or best. We discuss were we’ve been and where we plan to go. We embrace the opportunity to keep on keepin on.
If youth is the sprint, aging is the stride. There’s a whole lot of peace in finding your pace. I’m still working on mine and plan to until it’s time for me to go.