The Inheritance We’re Spending Is Time

My birthday is this weekend. It is a big one. A very big number, and still a secret. Perhaps that is why I have been thinking more than usual about ageing, and what it really means to keep living well as the years pass.

I am the first to admit there is no escaping the little niggles that come with getting older. My previous relentless approach to life has softened. I am certainly not as strong as I once was. These days, my body has opinions, and it is not shy about sharing them. But here is what has not softened:

My appetite for life.

I can still walk. I can still dance the tango. I can still swim in the ocean when the mood and the weather agree. Age has not made me smaller. It has simply asked me to pay closer attention.

Twenty years ago, I retired from the physical teaching I had done in my own college. At the time, it seemed sensible, even responsible.

Looking back, I sometimes wonder whether I put myself into retirement too soon. Not because I wanted to keep proving anything, but because I understand something now that perhaps I didn’t fully understand then:

Staying well is not just about avoiding illness.

It is about rhythm.

Purpose.

Connection.

And remaining part of the living conversation.

For me, community and connection have become as important as any exercise routine. I am learning more and more that connection is not a sentimental extra as we age. It is part of the architecture that holds us up.

Research is beginning to look more closely at the relationship between physical activity and social connection in later life. A recent Texas A&M review describes the two as deeply intertwined: movement can create opportunities for social interaction, while social connection can encourage us to keep moving. Mayo Clinic Press has also explored the powerful association between strong relationships and healthier ageing.

Perhaps our bodies and our relationships have been trying to tell us the same thing:

Don’t withdraw from life.

I don’t believe we should surrender our physical abilities because another birthday has arrived. Of course, bodies change with age. Mine certainly has. But strength, balance, flexibility and mobility can still be nurtured, and movement remains important throughout life.

The trouble is, we often already know that. Then we visit the chiropractor, physio or osteo and they hand us the exercises.

Do we do them?

Never.

Guilty as charged.

Chris and I joke that we are spending the inheritance, and our children approve.

They want us around for longer. More than that, they want us to have quality of life. And neither Chris nor I wants to surrender our independence any earlier than necessary.

So perhaps independence has become our investment strategy. We are spending some of the inheritance on the kind of life that lets us remain ourselves for as long as possible.

Maybe the answer is a hot personal trainer…

But seriously…

At my age, I have already been a gym junkie and a yoga fanatic. I can still do shoulder stands and Surya Namaskar, but only because I have practised them for years.

These days, I favour gentler things: tai chi, walking the dog, or walking with the grandchildren while they ride their bikes. Or, more accurately, being walked by them.

“Keep up, Nan!” is the usual cry.

The point is not to become a fitness influencer in Lycra. It is simply to stay in the loop of your own body.

It might be walking, stretching, dancing badly, swimming slowly or simply carrying the shopping. Even getting up from the chair without making a sound effect counts … if you can manage it.

Health organisations give us recommendations about aerobic activity, strength and balance, but I rather like the ordinary spirit behind all of it:

Move often enough that your body remembers it is still invited to the party.

A friend recently asked me to try a weighted vest. It is her business, so I agreed. Five kilos and I thought she was trying to kill me; two kilos was much more civilised. I wore it while vacuuming, mopping and hanging out the sheets, and let me tell you, you are schvitzing.

Chris doesn’t need encouragement to move. He never seems to stop and loves walking, which makes me only slightly jealous. But there is another reason I want to keep up with him.

I want to enjoy the rest of our lives together.

We have both had those late-night conversations that arrive in the later chapters of a long partnership: Who will be the one left behind?

I am selfish. I want to see my Maker first.

It is something I say half in humour, half in fear, and wholly in love. Because perhaps that is another thing nobody tells you about ageing with someone you love. You aren’t only trying to stay well for yourself anymore. You want more walks, more dinners, more ridiculous conversations and more ordinary Tuesdays. You simply want more time.

Mental health matters too.

How quickly people joke:

“You forgot? Must be dementia. You’re at that age.”

But forgetting where you put the car keys, phone or wallet doesn’t necessarily mean something is wrong. Sometimes we are simply human, distracted, overloaded or thinking about six other things at once.

I keep my own mind active by trying to remain useful and curious. I give some of my time to Lifeline. I read to little children at the library, helped along these days by the fact that I write illustrated children’s books.

And over the years I have wandered, sometimes bravely and sometimes bewildered, into the world of information technology. Now I find myself exploring the exciting, strange and creative world of artificial intelligence.

To my surprise, I have become rather good at navigating it. I have just launched a new children’s series, Little Hearts Big Feelings, and I can now bring the characters in my imagination to life through AI-created illustrations that, not so long ago, would have cost me a small fortune to commission.

The stories, however, are mine. That distinction matters to me. There is something rather wonderful about discovering, at this stage of life, that I can still learn an entirely new way of creating. The tool may be new, but the impulse is ancient: to imagine, to tell, to connect.

Perhaps that is what ageing well really asks of us. Not perfection or denial, and certainly not pretending our knees are twenty-five when they are clearly reading from a different script. It asks us to keep participating, toslow down without withdrawing, to honour the body without obsessing over it, to seek company and to remain teachable.

It asks us to laugh when the weighted vest makes housework feel like boot camp, to dance when we can, walk when we can, rest when we need, and stay connected to the people and purposes that make us want to get up again tomorrow.

Chris and I may joke that we’re spending the inheritance, but perhaps the inheritance we’re really spending is time.

And unlike money, there is no sense leaving too much of that sitting untouched in the bank. So I intend to spend mine on people, movement, curiosity, love and work that still matters to me. Perhaps on another dance, too, while I can still hear the music.

Because the body may ask for modifications, but the heart, if we are lucky, keeps asking for more.

Keep living while you’re living. 💃🏻

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This post was previously published on Age of Empathy.

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