How Old is Too Old? What Are You Too Old to Do Anymore? I Get An Answer

You're Too Old to Spend the Rest of Your Life on the Couch: Let's Adventure!

The author, first night in a new tent, on the Rogue River the night before put-in

Can we go home to our bodies? Maybe. It depends. Sometimes, no.

Rylin, the lead guide for Oregon River Experiences , asked me again.

“You want to sit in the front of my boat going through Blossom Bar?”

I must have looked like a deer in the headlights that she had to ask twice.

HELL YES I DO.

Elsa, the guide-in-training, was temporarily reassigned to the paddle boat, which was carrying three family members: Rick, a grandfather in his seventies, Abby, his daughter and Everett the grandson. Reid, the assistant guide, would steer the paddle boat.

The previous evenings we’d been hearing Reid regale us with stories about how he’d gotten himself hung up on the infamous “Picket Fence” of the Blossom Bar rapids, which are a challenge to navigate even for the most experienced. He’d been a rookie, and ended up swimming in the boiling rapids twice for his troubles.

The equipment boat complete with our flamingoes

Here I would be, sitting straddle-legged on the bright blue tent pads which covered the front of the equipment boat, with nothing more than a couple of hand holds to hang onto.

One, actually, because I was going to film this bad boy with one hand.

HELL YES I DO.

The Rogue River is cold in spring. It’s cold all year long for that matter, as most mountain- and spring-fed waters are in this part of the country. Landing in the river has a way of getting your attention.

A good pre-trip briefing goes into important detail about the body position to assume (feet pointed down river) if you do end up in the drink. That’s not a time to be distracted by your phone or anything else.

You learn when to swim like mad for one of those calm eddies which offer respite and a place to be picked up by your guide. You learn to watch for those eddies down river if you can spot them, part of what the business refers to as “reading the water.”

I can’t speak for anyone else but I am frankly terrified of drowning. Worse, I have Reynaud’s, which means that a harsh dump in 60-degree or colder water and my hands and feet go numb, white and useless. You can’t grasp or grab or walk when your extremities have no blood in them.

Never let that deter me before.

So, HELL YES.

First, I trust the guides. Second, I trust that I’ll do what I’ve been trained to do if I do get tossed butt-over-teakettle into cold, rushing waters. You’re not going to be in the water that long and besides, if you do this right, you’ll be back in the boat in no time flat with a great story to tell later.

Even if you don’t do it right you’ll be back in the boat fast, because, good guides.

Third, I do what scares me most. When you handle that mental monster, then anything below it on the scare scale is much less threatening.

HELL YES I DO.

I leapt onto the bright blue pads in the sparkling sunshine, grabbed a handle, held up my camera and we pushed off.

A view of Blossom Bar from the rocks above

As with most professionals, those who have done this kind of thing for decades make moving through rough spots look easy. Rylin scooted us through Blossom Bar perfectly with nary a bump.

When guides do that good a job, those of us in the boats have little real sense of just how dangerous the waters are.

Then I had her company for a few hours while Reid took his paddle boat and Rick’s family flawlessly through the churning waters. Next stop would be lunch.

We floated for a while, then I asked Rylin if I could stand up on the pads at the front of the boat.

“Sure.”

Not the answer I expected. However there’s this: your guide determines whether or not you’re allowed to try something, based on their assessment of your skills.

Their word is law, so no means no.

I got a yes.

We were moving across light ripples, so the boat was plenty active. I stood, balancing on the soft blue pads, and promptly sat on my ass.

I stood again, seeking my best position, fell again.

Third time I was lucky. I found my stance, very much like surfing, one foot forward and the other back, and stood lightly, allowing the waters to move the lower part of my body in concert with the waves while keeping my torso still.

the author trusting balance

If you’re young, hale, hearty and active, this may not seem like a big deal. For someone who has undergone two major reconstructive surgeries on her feet and can largely still not feel them, this was a validation of all the hard work I’d put in at the gym.

Hours on the BOSU ball at home, on the gym floor, endless exercises doing balance work, both legs and one-legged. Lots of stairs, lots of sand dune hikes.

This is what I mean when I say go home to your body. While there are aspects of my feet I dare not yet trust, and may not again, I can balance comfortably on a moving boat on an unpredictable river surface.

This was just a gentle test of my balance skills and whether I could trust my repaired feet.

All I wanted was to experiment and see if what I’d done had worked.

It has worked. The hours I’ve put in allow me to continue to do truly fun things.

The truth also is that there are some things I wouldn’t consider risking. Not any more. But that’s not solely a function of age.

People far younger than I who have had serious injuries find that some doors necessarily close. A marathon runner may have to switch to cycling. A cyclist may have to shift to swimming.

One competitive cyclist I know had too many crashes. She moved over to distance running at altitude, and rarely misses her rides.

If we use our bodies hard, at some point we may have to give up something we love. If we want to stay active, that means putting in the recovery time and being willing to try out a different activity if a given body part just can’t take the work any more.

But here’s my point about being Too Old.

Not all concessions and adaptations are age-related. Some are. The excuse of being “too old for this” falls flat on its face in this regard.

Perhaps a youthful disease may rob us of capacity.

Sometimes we injure ourselves in such a way that it’s wise to redirect.

Sometimes that redirection is temporary. Sometimes it’s permanent.

We can grate about it or we can be graceful about it.

I’m just so glad to be mobile, to even be on the river at this point, that the fine points about how high I might be able to hike up the nearby banks are ridiculous.

It wasn’t that long ago that I had to use disabled Ride Share to get around. My life was all about scooters, walkers and PT.

Rick, the grandfather on this trip, has undergone two knee replacements. While I watched him mind his balance every so often, he’s also out playing with his family. There was nothing particularly difficult or extreme about this trip for either of us and we’re both sporting plenty of replacement metal.
We’re both over seventy and we have a great deal more adventure in us yet.

Rick and grandson Everett paddling towards light rapids on the Rogue

Part of a good life at any age is recognizing what you can and can’t do.

Where I have an issue is when we use age as the sole broad brush excuse for not being fully in life, whether that’s a physical pursuit or, as with my father, computers.

Without bothering to ask my mother what she thought, Dad told me point-blank that they were too old to learn computers.

That was a load of hooey then and it’s a load of hooey now.

What’s the hooey we are selling ourselves when believing such hooey sells us short?

My friend Amelia told me last night she can’t swim. Lots of folks can’t swim but they raft anyway. That’s what your PFD (personal flotation device) is for.

Amelia has engaged in lots of badass sports. She’s close to my age. This morning I sent her a link to O.R.E. with the reminder that they specialize in the older age group. She knows how to follow safety instructions- and that’s half the battle right there.

The other half is to stop telling ourselves we’re too old.

She changed her mind.

That’s all I care about- that we stop ladling out excuses when fun is knocking at our doors, at any age.

Dr. Becca Levy’s work on the power of attitude on aging (Breaking the Age Code) is all about changing our minds and giving ourselves years more to live in full.

Let’s stop talking ourselves out of fun by using age as an excuse.

One more thing.

If you moved away from where you grew up, you might have been tempted to go home. The mind has pictures. Our often-romanticized pictures are shattered when we head back to familiar haunts with our hearts in our hands. Too much has changed.

The body is the same way, but it’s not all negative news. What we grew up with no longer exists. The body changes at all ages. Injuries, disease, mishaps and downright dumb stunts leave their marks on us.

So does our hard work.

We can never go back home to a body we had before. Just as we never step in the same river twice, the body we woke up to this morning is not the one we put to bed last night.

We can, however, come home to the body we have now. We can work with, improve, challenge and delight in that body. It can reward us with much joy, especially if we are respectful of its limitations.

Like Rick, I’m working with a repaired body. Most of us are. For most, that body will still allow us to be in Nature, to be fully in life, especially when we have the grace to acknowledge what’s changed…

…and the courage to challenge what could still be.

Let’s play.

A sunny start to another day on the river

Thanks for coming along with me today. I hope this article challenged you or someone close to you about how we speak about ourselves, and the cost of using negative language. I’m all in for being all in life. Language matters- so let’s not close doors on ourselves, no matter what those doors may be - simply by using too old as an excuse.

If you got value from this please consider

If you know someone who can use a challenge to their perspective on aging, please also consider

Either way, please play today. Tomorrow may not come, and all we have is right now. Make it worthwhile.