Tag: Living Well

  • She Said, “I Bought a Ticket to Thailand.” So I Did Too.

    She Said, “I Bought a Ticket to Thailand.” So I Did Too.

    My younger self would have made a spreadsheet.

    How much would this cost?

    How many vacation days would I have left?

    Shouldn’t I wait until retirement?

    Could I really justify this?

    Current me?

    Apparently, I just buy the ticket.

    The Shift

    A few years ago I read Die With Zero. One idea from the book completely changed how I think about life.

    The author argues that our sixties are our Go Years.

    Our seventies become our Slow-Go Years.

    And eventually, our eighties become our No-Go Years.

    Whether or not you agree with every point, one idea hit me square between the eyes:

    We spend our whole lives saving money for a future that may not allow us to enjoy the experiences we were saving for.

    That landed differently for me.

    My mom died at 61.

    There are no guarantees that someday will arrive exactly the way we imagine it.

    Just Buy the Ticket

    So when my daughter casually mentioned she had bought a ticket to Thailand, I said something that surprised even me.

    “That sounds fun.”

    And then I bought a ticket to Thailand.

    A few minutes later I texted my cousin in New York.

    “I’ve done something crazy.”

    She texted back almost immediately.

    “That’s not crazy.”

    Then she bought a ticket too.

    Just like that, three women each two decades apart were headed halfway around the world together.

    What I love most isn’t that we went to Thailand.

    It’s that none of us let age become the deciding factor.

    No one said, “Maybe someday.”

    No one waited for the perfect time.

    No one overanalyzed it.

    We simply said yes.

    The trip gave us incredible memories.

    Beautiful beaches.

    Amazing food.

    A few adventures that looked much easier on Instagram.

    And enough laughter to last a lifetime.

    The Best Investment

    Looking back, I don’t remember what the airfare cost.

    I remember the conversations.

    The sunsets.

    The photos.

    The feeling of realizing that life doesn’t always reward careful planning.

    Sometimes it rewards courage.

    That’s become one of my biggest lessons entering this chapter of life.

    I’m still saving.

    I’m still planning.

    But I’m no longer postponing every meaningful experience for a future version of myself.

    Because maybe the best investment isn’t another number in a retirement account.

    Maybe it’s buying the ticket while your knees still work, your curiosity is alive, and the people you love can still say yes.

    The Seasoned Silver Tsunami isn’t about traveling the world.

    It’s about refusing to let your best years become your someday years.

    Sometimes “boldly going” starts with nothing more than four simple words.

    “That sounds fun.”

    Even in Thailand we bought shoes 🙂

    Don’t spend your Go Years planning for your No-Go Years.

  • If They Were Cute, I’d Have Suffered

    If They Were Cute, I’d Have Suffered

    The Evolution of a Shoe Addict

    A friend once sent me a birthday card with three shoes on the front. I laughed because it perfectly captured the stages of my life.

    A friend who worked in real estate, was telling me about the time she accidentally drove into a client’s garage.

    Before she finished the story, my first thought was…

    “I bet it was the heels.”

    It wasn’t.

    But the fact that my mind immediately blamed the shoes probably tells you everything you need to know about me.

    There was a time when…

    If they were cute, I’d have suffered.

    Actually, let’s be honest.

    I did suffer.

    And I happily wore them again the next weekend.

    A Birthday Card That Told My Story

    A few weeks later, she stopped by with a birthday card.

    On the front were three shoes.

    A sky-high stiletto.

    A sensible heel.

    A ballet flat.

    I laughed because she’d unknowingly summarized my entire adult life.

    If I had to describe my relationship with shoes, it would probably look like this:

    20s: If they’re cute, I’ll suffer.

    40s: If they’re cute and comfortable, I’ll buy two pairs.

    Today: If they’re cute, comfortable, and I can walk all over Italy in them…I’ll buy every color.

    Now that’s what I call personal growth!

    We Actually Laughed at Clarks

    Years ago, I was walking out of a movie theater with a group of girlfriends.

    One of them was wearing Clarks.

    We laughed.

    I know.

    Not our finest moment.

    Fast-forward a couple of decades.

    Now if someone walks in wearing a cute pair of Clarks, I’m no longer laughing.

    I’m asking,

    “Can you send me the link?”

    My Shoes Have a Job Description

    Don’t get me wrong.

    I still love beautiful shoes.

    That hasn’t changed one bit.

    I still stop to admire a gorgeous pair of heels.

    I still believe the right shoes can make an outfit.

    The difference?

    I expect them to work for a living.

    Can they survive airports?

    Can they handle a full day wandering through Florence?

    Will they make it through a conference, dinner afterward, and the walk back to the hotel?

    Can they keep up with me?

    Because if they can’t…

    They’re probably staying at the store.

    I’ve realized the best shoes aren’t the ones that look like they’ll take me somewhere.

    They’re the ones that actually do.

    Raising the Bar

    People sometimes assume that choosing comfort means lowering your standards.

    I think I’ve done exactly the opposite.

    When I was younger, cute was enough.

    Now I expect stylish, comfortable, well-made, and ready for adventure.

    That’s not settling.

    That’s raising the bar.

    I still own a few gorgeous heels, but these days..

    If they’re cute, they can suffer trying to keep up with me.

    Because I have other places I’d rather go.

    Gucci store in Italy.

    Anyone who knows me knows I’ve never met a shoe store I couldn’t justify walking into

  • I’ve Officially Reached My JOMO Era

    I’ve Officially Reached My JOMO Era

    How the Joy of Missing Out became one of the best parts of getting older.

    Confession: If you cancel plans with me, please don’t take it personally if I respond with, “No worries!” I probably mean it.

    Remember FOMO?

    The Fear of Missing Out.

    There was a time when I was convinced something amazing was happening somewhere else, and I needed to be there.

    Someone invited me to dinner? Yes.

    Neighborhood gathering? Of course.

    Work happy hour? I’ll be there.

    School fundraiser? Sure.

    Tennis social? Why not?

    Somewhere along the way, my calendar looked like every square had been claimed with a permanent marker. If there was an open spot, I felt obligated to fill it.

    Not because I wanted to.

    Because…what if I missed something?

    Then Something Changed

    Somewhere in my 50s, I transitioned from FOMO to JOMO.

    The Joy of Missing Out.

    The first time I heard the term, I laughed because I realized I had become the poster child.

    Not because I’d stopped enjoying people.

    Because I’d stopped believing I had to do everything.

    The Great Calendar Shift

    I think this is one of the unexpected gifts of this season of life.

    For years, our calendars belonged to everyone else.

    Kids’ activities.

    School concerts.

    Birthday parties.

    Volunteer committees.

    Work obligations.

    Family gatherings.

    Somewhere between raising families, building careers, and trying to be everything to everyone, we got pretty good at saying yes.

    Now we finally get to ask a different question.

    Do I actually want to do this?

    That’s a very different way to make plans.

    My Hiking Lesson

    During COVID, I found an incredible group of women who hiked together almost every weekend.

    We explored new trails, solved the world’s problems somewhere between the trailhead and the summit, and laughed a lot.

    It became one of the bright spots of that strange season.

    Then life slowly started opening up again.

    Weekends became busier.

    Travel returned.

    Family plans came back.

    Work picked up.

    I couldn’t spend every Saturday on the trail anymore.

    At first, I’d see the pictures afterward.

    A mountain lake I’d missed.

    A spectacular wildflower hike.

    A perfect bluebird day.

    Years ago, I probably would’ve thought, “I wish I’d gone.”

    Instead, I found myself smiling.

    I was genuinely happy they had a wonderful day.

    And I was just as happy with the day I’d chosen.

    That’s when I realized something.

    JOMO isn’t about not wanting to do fun things.

    It’s about realizing there are lots of wonderful ways to spend a Saturday.

    Sometimes it’s a hike with friends.

    Sometimes it’s a trip with family.

    Sometimes it’s a tennis match.

    Sometimes it’s finally tackling a project you’ve been putting off.

    And sometimes…

    It’s a great book, a cup of tea, and absolutely no regrets.

    Turns out, joy doesn’t come from doing everything.

    It comes from loving the thing you chose.

    And here’s another unexpected perk…

    Sometimes saying no to plans means I finally have time for all the things we’re told we should be doing at this age.

    A facial because, apparently, collagen has left the building.

    Ten minutes of stretching because my hamstrings seem to have retired before I did.

    A board game to keep my brain sharp.

    Maybe even a little strength training.

    Honestly, aging has become a part-time job.

    The funny thing is…I don’t mind.

    When I’m not racing from one commitment to the next, those things don’t feel like another item on my to-do list.

    They feel like an investment in feeling my best.

    And that’s time well spent.

    Choosing Better

    People sometimes hear JOMO and think it means you’ve become a homebody.

    Not at all.

    I still love traveling.

    I still love tennis.

    I still love dinner with friends.

    I still love trying new things.

    The difference is…

    I don’t feel the need to do everything.

    I’ve traded quantity for quality.

    I’d rather have one unforgettable evening than three obligations.

    I’ve learned that saying no to one thing often means saying a wholehearted yes to something else.

    And that’s a trade I’ll happily make.

    Here’s the Funny Part

    The younger version of me would’ve thought turning down plans sounded sad.

    The current version of me gets genuinely excited when I realize I have nowhere to be on a Saturday afternoon.

    Who knew an empty calendar could feel like a luxury?

    Who knew staying home with a great book could feel like winning?

    Apparently…the older me.

    Here’s to JOMO

    Don’t get me wrong.

    I still say yes.

    To the trips that make my heart race.

    To the friends who fill my cup.

    To long conversations.

    To adventures.

    To laughter.

    To memories worth making.

    But I’ve stopped saying yes out of obligation.

    Because this chapter isn’t about being everywhere.

    It’s about being exactly where you want to be.

    Whether that’s on a mountain trail with friends…

    Around the dinner table with family…

    Exploring a new city…

    Or curled up with a book you can’t put down.

    That’s not missing out.

    That’s living intentionally.

    And I have to say…

    It’s one of my favorite parts of getting older.

  • Has Anyone Else’s Wellness Become a Game of Whack-A-Mole?

    Has Anyone Else’s Wellness Become a Game of Whack-A-Mole?

    Has anyone else noticed that staying healthy has somehow become a full-time job?

    I don’t remember applying for the position.

    Every morning I wake up with the best intentions.

    Today I’m going to lower my cholesterol.

    Then someone reminds me I need to increase my protein.

    Before lunch I’ve read an article on strength training, another on brain health, and a third explaining why I should be taking Lion’s Mane, magnesium, collagen, creatine, Vitamin D, Omega-3s…and maybe standing on one foot while brushing my teeth.

    Apparently balance is important now, too.

    It Started After a Tennis Match

    It all really started after a tennis match.

    The “olders” were sitting around at the social afterward when someone casually asked,

    “So…what’s your VO₂ max?”

    My what?

    Apparently I was the only person at the table who had never heard of it.

    Within minutes everyone was comparing numbers.

    “My watch says…”

    “My doctor wants mine higher…”

    “I’ve been doing intervals…”

    I smiled and nodded like I knew exactly what everyone was talking about.

    The minute I got home, I Googled “VO₂ max.”

    And just like that…

    Another mole popped up.

    Then More Moles Started Popping Up

    Just when I think I’ve whacked one mole…

    Another one pops up.

    Because that’s what staying healthy feels like these days.

    A giant game of Whack-A-Mole.

    Just when I think I’ve gotten one thing under control…

    Whack.

    Heart disease.

    Whack.

    Osteoporosis.

    Whack.

    VO₂ max.

    Whack.

    Sleep scores.

    Whack.

    Brain health.

    Whack.

    Protein.

    Whack.

    Strength training.

    Whack.

    Someone recommends calcium.

    Someone else swears by Estrogen.

    Then someone tells me I need more B12.

    At this point, I spend more time researching supplements than planning vacations.

    And can we talk about brain health for a minute?

    When did every conversation become,

    “Have you tried Lion’s Mane?”

    “I heard creatine helps your brain.”

    “You really should do crossword puzzles.”

    “I read Sudoku isn’t enough.”

    Meanwhile, I walk into the laundry room and have absolutely no idea why I’m there.

    So I walk back into the kitchen.

    Then it hits me.

    I needed the laundry room.

    Back I go.

    The funny thing is, none of us were talking about any of this ten years ago.

    We’ve all become accidental wellness experts.

    Or at least enthusiastic amateurs.

    I don’t think any of us are trying to live forever.

    We’re just trying to stay healthy enough to keep living the lives we love.

    For me, that’s personal.

    My mother died suddenly from heart disease at sixty-one, at a time when we knew far less about women’s heart health than we do today. Her death changed the way I think about taking care of myself.

    Today, I’m keeping an eye on my own heart disease. I’m watching my bone health. I celebrate when my VO₂ max creeps up, even if it’s only one-tenth of a point.

    Her story changed mine.

    Some days it feels like a never-ending game of Whack-A-Mole.

    But then I remember why I’m playing.

    Not so I can win aging.

    Not so I can have perfect numbers.

    Not so my watch gives me a gold star.

    I’m doing it because I still have places I want to go.

    I still want to hike.

    I still want to travel.

    I still want to play tennis.

    I still want to laugh with friends over lunch.

    I still want to say yes when adventure comes knocking.

    I still want to win my son in pickleball.

    Maybe that’s the secret.

    We’re not spending all this time talking about our health because we’re getting old.

    We’re talking about it because we’re still planning on living.

    So yes, hand me the protein shake.

    I’ll lift the weights.

    I’ll take the walk.

    I’ll schedule the bone scan.

    Hand me the Whack-A-Mole mallet.

  • Have you ever judged a tennis match before the first serve?

    Have you ever judged a tennis match before the first serve?

    Why I’m in search of wheels!

    The first time I played in a tennis league, I made a rookie mistake. I looked across the net and sized up my competition.

    One woman had a knee brace. Another had an elbow brace. I glanced at my partner and thought, We’ve got this. We did not.

    Those women didn’t overpower us. They didn’t chase down every ball.

    They simply placed every shot exactly where we weren’t.

    Drop shot.

    Lob.

    Angle.

    Repeat.

    By the end of the match, I had developed a healthy respect for knee braces. In fact, I became convinced the more orthopedic equipment someone wore, the better they played.

    Fast forward a couple of decades.

    Now I’m the one walking onto the court with a few more birthdays under my visor.

    Fortunately, I don’t need the braces…yet.

    But I can still see it sometimes.

    The quick glance from across the net.

    The subtle look that says, This should be an easy match.

    Here’s the funny part.

    I never became one of those women with laser-precise shots that never seemed to miss. Instead, I figured out something even more important.

    I found Wheels.

    Wheels, and a win!

    Every doubles player needs a partner who can run down absolutely everything. Mine usually happens to be about thirty years younger than I am.

    When a ball sails just out of my reach, I don’t panic.

    I simply yell, “Wheels!“

    They sprint.

    I cheer.

    We win a surprising number of points.

    I’ve learned that getting older isn’t about pretending you can still cover every inch of the court by yourself.

    It’s about knowing your strengths, appreciating someone else’s, and enjoying the game a whole lot more because of it.

    Those women had precision.

    I have Wheels.

    Maybe that’s what getting older really looks like.

    Not doing it the same way.

    Just finding a way that works for you.

    And if you’re lucky their nickname is Wheels.

    Turns out the knee brace wasn’t the handicap. It was the warning label.