- I was very competitive when I was younger, running marathons, and also enjoyed biking and rock climbing.
- As I’ve gotten older, I’ve let go of the need to prove myself.
- Now I focus on staying physically active in different ways, including paddle boarding and yoga.
In 1987, I ran the Big Sur Marathon. Its great slogan, “Run along the edge of the Western world,” appealed to me. It was my personal best of three times. The marathon I ran The time then was 3:56.
Entering the race was typical for me as a 30-something who was competitive, achievement-oriented and needed to prove myself.
In my younger years, I focused on running, cycling, and rock climbing.
My husband, Barry, and I have been cycling for many years. In EuropeI remember spending a year in the Pyrenees, cycling between France and Spain, climbing one mountain pass, enjoying the breathtaking views and descending to a charming village – it was so much fun. The only drawback was that after one amazing descent, I had to climb another hill. Up and down for two weeks straight. I’m glad that era is over.
It was the same when I climbed Mount Shasta in Northern California. While climbing a terribly steep icy slope with ill-fitting borrowed crampons, I was genuinely worried I was going to fall off the ground. On Everest“I told the other hikers when we reached the summit, and their laughter was the best part of the entire climb.”
And I’ll never forget a women’s rock climbing class taught by a lithe, silver-haired woman named Annie. We were climbing a rock face above McCabe’s Beach in Marin County. About halfway up the rocks, I glanced back and saw that we were the only clothed people in sight. Naked men were playing volleyball and waving at us. I later realized that in addition to being a nudist beach, it was also a gay hangout, because there were no other women in sight.
I approach fitness completely differently now.
As I entered my 60s and 70s, I developed radically different priorities. First, I do everything I can to avoid falls. Having broken three joints is enough. The first was when I badly injured my ankle on a hard landing while skydiving near Mount Rainier 40 years ago. After surgery, my orthopedic surgeon told me, “We’ve put together everything we can recognize.”
Thirty years later, another surgeon told me that, judging from my X-rays, I would likely end up using crutches, but that because I was very active, my ankle was in pretty good health, despite having very little cartilage. “But you’ll never be able to run again!” he added.
The other two falls were less traumatic: I fell while running on a trail and broke my pinky toe, then broke my wrist when my Teva sandal got caught in a crack in the sidewalk.
my Active LifestyleBecause I have osteoporosis, I do strength yoga, weight-bearing exercises and the Alexander Technique, a mind-body therapy that promotes good posture.
I’m still doing the hard stuff
Just because I’m no longer competitive doesn’t mean I just hang around. I resonate with the message of a book called “Doing Hard Things.” When I’m biking up a hill, I tell myself, “Don’t give up until your legs get tired!”. When I’m stand-up paddleboarding and I feel like going home, I say, “Come on, it’s not over yet!”
I spend more time in the water
Previously, most of my exercise was done on land, but in the last few years I have switched from running to open water swimming, which Paddle Boardsit’s now one of my favorite fitness activities, although it feels more like a spiritual discipline than a form of conditioning.
I wander Humboldt Bay, two blocks from my apartment in Eureka, California, to say hello to seals (gazing suspiciously at these strange, vertical creatures), admire herons, and, at high tide, paddle through otherworldly marshes crisscrossed by tiny channels. The water is the ideal place when, as Wordsworth said, “the world seems too much to us.”
Above all, I keep moving
If I had any advice, it’d be “do whatever it takes to keep moving.” Personally, I find myself increasingly wanting to be active outside, preferably in places of natural beauty. Except that Barry and I have spent hours (or even hours!) walking around the 3,000-plus windy, souk-like alleyways of Guanajuato, the Mexican city where I live part-time. I love these streets, and I take people on tours.
Like this: Centenarians whose lifestyles I emulateToday, I shun “exercise” – a modern concept: artificial, time-limited, structured. Instead, I do what my body craves: walk and move through my surroundings. I stride to the library, the bank, or my yoga class, singing childhood songs like “I’m a Poor Traveler” and “I Love to Wander.” Walking relaxes me when I’m tense, centers me when I’m distracted, and awakens me when I’m feeling lethargic.
After all, walking briskly means joining the long line of bipeds who have gone before us, walking in the footsteps of ancient humans. The timeless habit of walking keeps me steady and supported.
