Are We There Yet Are We There Yet?
Remember when you were 10 or 12 years old? A year felt
like an eternity. A month did too.
“I have to wait till SATURDAY? That’s like five more whole days.”
When we get to our 50s or 60s, it feels like time flies faster than a jet.
“How did it get to be November already? It feels like our summer vacation was only last week.”
I read an interesting reader letter in AARP The Magazine recently in which the writer explained the speed-up phenomenon in math terms.
“As you age, each unit of time comprises less of your life,” she writes. At age 10, one year is 10% of your life; 2% at age 50, 1.3% at age 75. Simple math.
Interesting observation, isn’t it?
I sometimes compare aging to a football field. On the 10-yard line, the other goal post seems miles away and it’ll take forever to run there. When you get to the 50-yard line, it seems like it’ll take less time to get to the end zone. The 40 or 30-yard line in field goal range?
“Uh, can I stop the clock for a few minutes? Or years?”
I bet 80 will feel like the 2-minute warning. I don’t really want the game to end. Unless I’m on the disabled list for the rest of the season. Although I think being on the sidelines or in the stands beats not being in the game.
Our parents didn’t prepare us for this, did they? Many of them died at an age just a few years older than many of us are now.
Some people fear death. Others fear missing out. I’m on that team.
There is generally no way to predict when we will reach the end zone. We could be part of a great “Hail Mary” play or we could be in the middle of the field when the clock runs out.
In my math example, 75 could be 1.3% of our life or it could be much more. Or much less.
That all reinforces something I’ve said before in this blog ... we should find a balance between planning for the future and living for today. Make the most of each day and pray for another day.
I, for one, don’t want to be the kid in the backseat incessantly asking if we’re there yet. I am not ready to get ‘there’. The journey is more important to me than the destination.
“I have to wait till SATURDAY? That’s like five more whole days.”
When we get to our 50s or 60s, it feels like time flies faster than a jet.
“How did it get to be November already? It feels like our summer vacation was only last week.”
I read an interesting reader letter in AARP The Magazine recently in which the writer explained the speed-up phenomenon in math terms.
“As you age, each unit of time comprises less of your life,” she writes. At age 10, one year is 10% of your life; 2% at age 50, 1.3% at age 75. Simple math.
Interesting observation, isn’t it?
I sometimes compare aging to a football field. On the 10-yard line, the other goal post seems miles away and it’ll take forever to run there. When you get to the 50-yard line, it seems like it’ll take less time to get to the end zone. The 40 or 30-yard line in field goal range?
“Uh, can I stop the clock for a few minutes? Or years?”
I bet 80 will feel like the 2-minute warning. I don’t really want the game to end. Unless I’m on the disabled list for the rest of the season. Although I think being on the sidelines or in the stands beats not being in the game.
Our parents didn’t prepare us for this, did they? Many of them died at an age just a few years older than many of us are now.
Some people fear death. Others fear missing out. I’m on that team.
There is generally no way to predict when we will reach the end zone. We could be part of a great “Hail Mary” play or we could be in the middle of the field when the clock runs out.
In my math example, 75 could be 1.3% of our life or it could be much more. Or much less.
That all reinforces something I’ve said before in this blog ... we should find a balance between planning for the future and living for today. Make the most of each day and pray for another day.
I, for one, don’t want to be the kid in the backseat incessantly asking if we’re there yet. I am not ready to get ‘there’. The journey is more important to me than the destination.
Comments