(This is a waterfall, seen from the trail high above it. If you look closely, you can see a man standing near the edge at right center. The rocks at the bottom of the picture are the edge of a sheer drop-off of at least 100 feet. I almost peed in my pants a couple times, standing there taking pictures.)
On the way back I heard footsteps not far behind us. I detected that the people, a man and woman probably ten years younger than us, would soon want to pass, and it made me feel suddenly old. I always passed other people; they did not pass me. Eventually, though, I could deny it no longer: there were younger people who had more stamina than me. I stepped aside and allowed them to go by. And I watched as they got smaller and smaller up the mountain.
Last month, my partner turned 50. Another decade passed. It had everyone asking, and me thinking, of course, about my own slide towards that number, and how I'll be one click closer in a couple months. It hardly seems possible; I've only recently become used to being in my 40s.
When I look at my friends, though, I see that many - or maybe even most - people don't look or seem to feel their age. Thing is, we are used to thinking of our parents at this age, and - good God! - we can't possibly be that old yet, can we? When actually, this is us now, not our parents, and we're normal people in middle age. So maybe it's not that any given number is "old," whatever that means, and maybe our parents felt exactly the same way at this age, wondering how they could have reached middle age when they didn't FEEL that old yet.
Age is just a construct, anyway, since we don't suddenly get one year older on one particular day each year. We are in a constant state of aging very gradually.
So what else can you do but just try to keep up with the march of time? And taking on a hiking trail of moderate difficulty was a fun way to do that.
And that couple that passed us on the way back up? When they reached the parking lot, we were just five yards behind them.
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