I started worrying about it last spring. Right after I turned 69. The day I realized that in just 364 more days I would turn 70, a time for reflection if there ever was one. And what did I have to show for having lived so long?
It may be true that people do amazing things at all advanced ages--just consult Guinness on that--but I needed to face the fact that I had not rowed solo across the Atlantic from Scotland to America as Diana Hoff had done at 55, nor had I given birth to twins at the age of 67 like Carmela Bousada. And I'm fairly certain that, unlike Cornelius Vanderbilt, I am not going to begin buying railroads at age 70.
So, there's no record-setting for me. So far, anyway.
