We all have them. Voices in our head. They chatter endlessly, more often than not criticizing the self, judging others, comparing the two, expressing fear, advising caution, and asserting opinions about the degree to which the way-things-are differ from the way-they-should-be.
The voices in my head see the aging process as a golden (good pun) opportunity to increase the volume. There is so much material to work with as they try to slow and drag me down.
They remind me of the fact that my parents died by age 60, and I am living on borrowed time. They predict that running will ruin my knees and blow out my back. If not that, I will surely fall down and break things (witness the wrist incident). There is no shortage of articles on the risks dying from falls after 65.
The voices also notice the additional pounds around the waist this year. They reassure me that gaining weight is natural at this age. What can I expect? Don't worry! No need to deprive myself by balancing intake with output. Just let go of vanity, have some fun, and buy larger jeans.
The words in my head don't emerge from a vacuum. They are fed by a constant stream of media and other cultural sources. I was shocked when I heard the victim of a hit-and-run described as an "elderly 59-year-old woman." Sixty-four at the time, I did not think that adjective applied to me, much less someone even younger.
I can handle senior (especially when followed by discount). Elder has a certain pizzazz. Golden years sound like a euphemism for silver (or gray). "Mature" sucks the air out of the room, along with the fun. Nix on "past her prime" or "over the hill."
In running and in golf, the word is master. While that is a great word, I double-take when it applies at age 40. My personal sports hero, Peyton Manning, is begging sportscasters to find a better word than "old" to describe him at 39. Chatter in the news, chatter in our heads. I hear them, and I want to talk back:
Yes, I want to keep running half marathons as I enter a new age group.
No, I am not too old to wear a cheetah print running skirt.
Yes, I want to manage my weight rather than accepting inevitable gain.
No, I am not too old to see another point of view.
Yes, I plan to remain active until something undeniable makes me back off.
No, I don't have to worry as much about what others think of me.
Yes, I can afford to take that risk at my age.
No, I am not too old to take tests and write reports.
I am collecting defiant Yes and No statements to counter the chatter in my head. It is not about denial (though perhaps I protest too much) but trying to find balance on the knife edge between tough and stupid as the years add up. Please help me add to the list with your own versions of Yes and No.
