I should probably begin by admitting that I don’t actually know everything you need to age well.
Nobody does.
Which is sort of the point.
I’ve spent the last nineteen years trying things, teaching things, changing my mind about things, watching thousands of bodies move, and paying pretty close attention to what happens to Peggy and me as we get older.
I’m 72 now.
I feel better than I did at 55.
That’s not something I expected to be able to say.
Especially considering where this story started.
At 55, Pretty Much Everything Was Falling Apart
My body certainly was.
I had type 2 diabetes.
I was carrying 98 extra pounds.
Both feet were problems. My right knee. My lower back. My shoulder. A possible hip replacement was being discussed.
There were enough potential surgeries floating around that I occasionally say seven, although some were more definite than others.
The point is, I wasn’t doing well.
And at almost exactly the same time, the rest of our life came apart too.
Peggy and I raised alpacas.
If you’v…
