Retirement Stats, Studies, and Stuff
By Mariella Vigneux, MBA, ACC
Certified Professional Coach
Having been rather tired recently, for no apparent reason, I said to my twin brother, “Do you think that our age is one of the reasons we feel tired more often?” He said, “Of course!” I said, “I’m not really ready to agree that age is a factor in my tiredness.” He responded, “You haven’t been asked to agree. It’s in the script.”
I guess I haven’t been reading the script.
My last foray onto the little theatre stage was as the fox in Green Eggs and Ham. A friend who watched the play said, “You can really move. I thought you were one of the teenagers.” Onstage, I had forgotten that I’m almost 60. The reality is, though, that the play, being only 14 minutes long, was short enough to sustain the illusion of youth.
Sneaky offstage prompts
Sneaky little prompts are being whispered by life’s prompter offstage… you’re getting older, you can’t expect to jump around like a teenager, you can’t remember your lines. In a previous article, I told you about my bum knee (see Adjusting to a new limitation – what works? ) and, although I can still carry a canoe, it’s more bravado than real strength. I’m getting the dates wrong for my nieces’ and nephews’ birthdays and it’s not that I forget them, it’s that I recorded them in the calendar incorrectly. I can’t always trust my brain!
As I confessed in another article (See Flirting with your wild side), five years ago I rashly committed to a push-up contest with my daughter on my 60th birthday. I can now do fewer push-ups than I could when I started preparing for this contest four months ago. I could do 10 then, now I’m down to five. As I train, physiotherapist at my side, I am exacerbating chronic cartilage inflammation along my sternum, and I’ve created a painful knot of muscles in my trapezius. The physiotherapist said I need to lower my goals. What the %#@&!
Aging Gracefully
When I discussed my crankiness about aging with my brother-in-law, he said that there is merit in aging gracefully. The concept holds great appeal and brings to mind the image of a wise elder who has
…the serenity to accept the things she cannot change,
The courage to change the things she can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Adapted from The Serenity Prayer by American theologian Reinhold Niebuhr
This wise elder would be someone who knows pain and suffering, but has moved beyond them, someone who keeps active and optimistic in spite of roadblocks, and someone who gracefully lets go the things of youth.
Is Dick Van Dyke aging gracefully?
At 89 years of age, actor Dick Van Dyke says he simply ignores the less enjoyable parts of aging. His advice is to keep moving. In an interview with Shad on CBC Radio’s ‘q’ about his book Keep Moving: And [single space] Other Tips and Tricks About Aging, he recommends that we physically keep moving, whether for an hour or for 12 minutes in a gym, and that whatever we can do we should make it a habit.
His motivation for fitness changed as he aged. In his thirties he wanted to look good, in his fifties he wanted to stay fit, in his seventies he wanted to stay ambulatory, and in his eighties he wanted to avoid assisted living. He figures that exercising in his nineties will be an act of defiance.
He is now enjoying a new hobby (3D animation) as well as his recent marriage to a young woman who sings and dances with him daily.
Ignore the bad, keep moving, try new things, be positive, marry a young person when you’re an octogenarian… is that how to age gracefully?
But what happened to “Rage, rage against the dying of the light”?
Didn’t the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas say, “Do not go gentle into that good night”? Are we not to “Rage, rage against the dying of the light”? Rage is certainly not my natural inclination, but I suspect it underlies the crankiness I feel each time I smack up against an age roadblock, whether it be physical or mental.
I don’t feel like being graceful. I don’t want to be adult-like – accepting and adjusting. Like a child who kicks and screams when told not to climb on the table, I’d prefer to rant at new restrictions. (I guess that’s what I’m doing now. Sorry.) But why can’t I rage, rage against the dying of the light?
Though what is there to rage about – really? I don’t fear death, at least I don’t think I do. I only fret at new restrictions. And restrictions are nothing new. We’ve faced new restrictions daily, from when we took our first baby steps. How is aging, and adjusting to new restrictions, any different as a 60- or 70-year-old?
Are we stuck with the script?
I guess what I fear in following the script and listening to the prompter offstage is that I’ll not maintain the determination to keep taking up challenges, to keep trying new things, and to keep doing the old. By letting go gracefully, would I be prone to being less than I can be? (Now, there’s a measurement word: less. Who is measuring and what is being measured?)
Perhaps I need to reframe what getting old means. Doesn’t it mean taking on new roles? Some never could carry a canoe (and who would want to anyway?) Does not carrying a canoe anymore matter? Does not running anymore change the essentials?
Just do your own thing. Go to racing school. Stay weird.
From what I see, aging raises many questions, it is different for everyone, and no one has definitive answers.
To celebrate 11 years on air, CBC Radio’s WireTap show created a farewell video called How to Age Gracefully. This short video offers words of wisdom from people of all ages to their younger counterparts. The clips I liked best are:
“Dear 91-year-old. Don’t listen to other people’s advice. Nobody knows what the hell they’re doing. Signed, a 93-year-old. Just do your own thing. That’s the way I see it.”
I’ve decided to take my husband’s corvette and go to racing school. If Paul Newman can do it, why can’t I? (Advice to a 53-year-old; from a woman [no age given])
“Dear 7-year-old. No matter what anyone says, stay weird. Signed, an 8-year old.”
Advice to myself
- List all the things I liked and am missing about the old way,
e.g., running gave me good health, strength, confidence, and feel-good endorphins.
- For each thing I’m missing, find three ways to replace it,
e.g., maintain my good health by walking fast, cross-country skiing, and doing yoga.
- Be completely honest and list all the things I like about the new way,
e.g., walking is easy, it lets me appreciate more fully what’s around me, and it doesn’t require a shower and clothing change afterwards.
It’s time to stop whingeing, get off my lard arse, and start enjoying my new roles. And maybe I can edit the script to suit my character as I go along.
Self-Coaching Questions
What have you had to give up recently that you used to enjoy and are now really missing?
What did you love about that activity (or person, pet, thing)?
In what three ways can you recreate each of those things that you loved?
What do you enjoy about the new way?
Mariella, like Helen, you are thoughtful, wise and insightful. This aging business is really tricky [says age 65 to a 50 something]. I’m not going to my yoga class tomorrow because I have a cold and it’s “too strenuous.” After I reported this to my husband at suppertime tonight, I paused and then said, “That’s pathetic.” Often I feel pathetic as I face my limitations. But mostly I turn out to be glad that I can “choose out” of things that I think are going to be too much. So be it!
Amy, talk about wise… your approach to aging seems to be very much in the “aging gracefully” category. I’m going to have to pay attention to you as you go forward! (I enjoyed your “That’s pathetic” response to your husband, by the way.)
I like “You haven’t been asked to agree. It’s in the script.” Ouch.
Ouch, is right! But too true. (Martin made of point of explaining later that he has no definitive recommendation for aging that is one-size-fits-all.)
The questions you asked yourself and propose as self-coaching questions are illuminating, Mariella. Since loss and limitations are in the script as we age, I like the framing here that acknowledges the regrets but moves on constructively and realistically.
Thanks, Helen. Now, if only I can answer my own questions and follow my own advice! It seems to be about knowing when to let go of loss and limitations.