It happened on an ordinary Tuesday.
I was filling out a form. I don’t even remember what it was for.
There was a box for age and I wrote 72, the way I’ve written it for months now without thinking twice.
Then somewhere below that was a category.
Senior citizen.
I looked at it for a moment.
Senior citizen.
Technically, that’s me.
But somehow the words didn’t match the person sitting there filling out the form.
I’d taught two movement classes that morning. I’d done my Contracted Stretching. I felt good. Strong. Nothing particularly senior-citizen-ish was happening as far as I could tell.
And yet there it was.
72. Senior citizen.
Both completely accurate.
And somehow not.
It Wasn’t a Crisis
I didn’t suddenly stare into the mirror and discover an old man looking back.
Nothing changed.
I wasn’t upset.
It was just this strange little disconnect between a number and an experience.
Because I don’t feel the way I once imagined 72 would feel.
Maybe that’s the interesting part.
When you’re 40, you have some picture …
