I turned 50 recently. That’s half a century. 1974 was the era of Watergate and the Vietnam War. Abba were rocking Eurovision with ‘Waterloo’. The Russian menace was threatening to overrun the west. English politics was in turmoil. Joe Biden was a toothless Washington hack. China was run by an ageing and brutal dictator. There was conflict in the middle east. How so much has changed since I was born.
Even though I’ve been of a mature vintage (and in denial about it) for a decade, I can no longer escape the tag of being middle aged. If normal life expectancy measures are to sustain themselves over the next few decades, then I am closer to the end than the beginning. I can see sixty, seventy and eighty with clear focus. They are as close to me now as forty, thirty and twenty were. And the time will go faster, as each year will become an increasingly shorter proportion of my life than it once was. I sometimes feel as if I’m already at the end, and I’m looking back upon the entirety of my life and wondering how it all went so fast. And then I have to reign myself in. I’m the same age as Leonardo DiCaprio for God’s sake. And look at him. I’m not going to engage in facile platitudes of the best being yet to come, but neither am I going to be fatalistic and think the salad days are over and I’m now just fit to check in permanently to Shady Pines. I’ve seen and done a lot in that half century, and, if I’m lucky, I could still have a lot of time left to complete the many items on my to do list.
So what does it mean to turn fifty?
Firstly, I’m quite astonished that it’s happened. How the hell am I fifty? I still think of myself as being about twenty five, and thanks to some decent genes, a good health record, and positive lifestyle choices I still feel a lot younger than my birth cert indicates. There are many things I can do at 50 that I’d never have been able to do when I was half my age, like 100 press ups in the morning, walk at a pace of 9 KM per hour, or hold boat pose for more than 30 seconds. In my 20s I smoked, drank a lot of bad coffee, and frequently overindulged in alcohol, vices that I largely left behind with the turn of the century. Consequently, I feel the health benefits a quarter of a century later. Sometimes I’d like to have more hair, but otherwise I’m quite content with the way I look at 50. Where the last twenty years went, I do not know. All I can say to the younger generations is that the years go a hell of a lot faster than you think.
Secondly, I recognise that wisdom comes with age. Yes, my parents were right about a lot of things. Not everything, but a lot of things. Perhaps I should have listened to them more when I was younger, but at the very least I can recall some of their advice and follow it now that I have developed enough wisdom to appreciate its value. You can’t put an old head on young shoulders. You never could, although I do hold out the possibility that AI might be able to attach young shoulder to an old head some time in the next few years. You can sense the usefulness of tradition, the insights of ancestors, and the merits of studying history and religion. The past was far from perfect, as were the people who participated in it, but their incremental learning helped build the better world that we inhabit today, which is also far from perfect.
Thirdly, though I may still have decades left on this earth, I’ve realised I have little time left to waste on bullshit, boredom or bureaucracy. However, I will spend plenty of time on exploration, entertainment, and enlightenment, via the vast universe of books, films and podcasts that are available at my fingertips. Undoubtedly, there are many classic books I should have read because they’re considered worthy, but by now I probably won’t get around to them as there are too many others that are ahead of them in the queue. Sorry, Jane Austen. The films that I loved in my teens and twenties will continue to be the cinematic cannon that brings me my greatest joy, but my musical tastes are not likely to evolve much more than they did in the last 40 years. Musically, if it wasn’t there in 1984 it doesn’t exist in my world. That said, new ideas continue to fascinate me, traveling to different countries remains a great passion, and my thirst to educate myself is still unquenchable.
Fourthly, I can’t eat as much chocolate as I once could, but occasionally that doesn’t stop me from trying. Neither can I drink as much alcohol (though I haven’t tried in a while), indulge in junk food, and certainly not smoke. Physical injuries can take a little longer to recover from, but with a rigorous regime of exercise, and a nutritious, balanced diet, I can still stay fit, strong and healthy. 10 years ago I was warned that my forties would be the decade in which middle aged spread would kick in. In actuality, it was a decade I finished a little lighter than I started. It was also a decade I walked three caminos, spent a gruelling month hiking in the Himalayas, and recored my fastest ever walking times. All of those walking records, incidentally, happened in 2023. I refuse to let a milestone birthday slow me down, and, while I will listen to my body if it signals any aches or pains, I intend to remain as fit in my fifties as I was in my forties.
Fifthly, I find myself becoming increasingly detached from my past self. Virtually all the adults who knew me as a child are now gone. My parents are dead, aunts and uncles have departed, and most of their contemporaries have also passed away. My own memories of childhood are fading and it feels as if my younger self is not something I once was or experienced, but just something I observed and now can only faintly recall, like a movie watched many years ago. Sometimes, this can be good. Many things that once bothered or aggravated me are no longer worth my attention, but sometimes it saddens me, as I can’t remember a lot of the stories my mother told me as a child. The past shapes who were are, but the present is the place we live, and while it’s inevitable to be nostalgic about previous good times, or regretful about past mistakes, the present moment is all we’ve got. The only game is today, so that’s the one we’ve got to play.
I’m very fortunate to have reached fifty. Earlier generations would have considered that a luxury, what with the daily realities of war, poverty, and hazardous working conditions. I’ll continue to enjoy and work on my good health for as long as I can. Nature or circumstance will eventually deal me a bad hand, as it will to all of us, but until that point comes I must try and make the best of the life I have. I’ve acquired enough wisdom to realise I can’t change that much of the world, so I need only focus on what I can control about myself. With some effort I can hopefully have a beneficial impact on some of those around me as well. Irrespective of age, I should not be complacent about goals or standards. We can always endeavour to go further, reach higher and do better, whether than be at work or at home. Fifty is just a reminder that the race is progressing, but there’s still potentially a long way to go to reach the finish line, and there’s a lot of work still to be done.
And so now it’s time to prepare for another camino, the sixth, and hopefully the next of many more to come. So here’s to the next decade. May it be as interesting as the last, but hopefully with fewer pandemics. Buen camino, peregrinos.