In just over a month, I’ll be turning 55. Yep—double nickels. I’ve officially entered the phase of life where I get targeted ads for retirement villages and “mature active adult communities.” One even promised a pickleball court (no, thank you!) and a weekly bridge night. Lovely, but… I'm still out here doing planks, hitting my punching bag, plotting my next travel adventure, and dancing in the kitchen like it’s 1999.

Aging? Sure. But needing a home? Come on, I'm barely home now!

Let’s get something straight: I’m not anti-aging. I’m anti-limiting-beliefs-about-aging. There’s this wild idea floating around that once you cross a certain “number,” you’re supposed to slow down, fade into elastic waistbands, and trade your green juice for prune juice. I didn’t get that memo—or maybe I just tossed it in the recycling bin with all the other outdated ideas.

The Number Is Just Data

Here’s the thing: 55 is just a number. It doesn’t tell you how curious I am. It doesn’t measure how strong I feel. It doesn't reflect the wisdom I’ve earned or the passion I still have for living life fully. It’s like using a bathroom scale to measure your self-worth. Wrong tool, wrong metric.

In fact, some days I feel more alive, more grounded, and more energetic than I did in my 30s—mainly because now, I actually know who I am and what I need.

Let’s Talk About That Energy (Virya anyone?)

You know what helps? A holistic lifestyle. I eat to nourish my body, not punish it. I move to feel powerful, not to squeeze into someone else’s idea of a “fit at 50” ideal. I meditate to clear my mind, not to achieve some Zen Instagram aesthetic (though bonus points if I look peaceful doing it).

And let’s not forget laughter. It’s honestly one of the most underrated anti-aging tools out there. That, and not taking yourself too seriously. I may be closer to qualifying for a seniors’ discount, but I still laugh-snort at bad puns and have a healthy fear of Velcro shoes.

Thinking About That Trail Race… Again

Lately, I’ve been toying with the idea of running another trail race—after a 5-year hiatus. Because, apparently, nothing screams “mid-fifties and thriving” like voluntarily running up hills, dodging tree roots, and questioning all your life choices halfway through kilometer six.

It’s been a while since I pinned on a race bib, and part of me is wondering if I’ve lost my trail legs. The other part? She’s already looking up hydration packs and planning post-race snacks. Because if I’m going to suffer, I’m at least going to suffer with good fuel and cute gear.

Honestly, I don’t know if it’s ambition, delusion, or just muscle memory that has me eyeing those finish lines again—but isn’t that the fun of it? Pushing the edges of what you think is possible, even if you're old enough to remember life before GPS watches.

I might not be the fastest one out there, but I’ll be the one laughing, probably talking to trees, and mentally composing a blog post mid-run.

Aging Without Apology

This is what embracing aging with vitality looks like for me:

• Wearing what makes me feel alive, not what’s “age-appropriate.”

• Moving because it feels good, not because I’m chasing some number on a scale.

• Loving my laugh lines, (ok, I’m still working on this one) because they’re proof I’ve smiled a lot (and yes, probably squinted a lot too).

• Letting go of timelines society handed me like a to-do list: marry by this age, achieve by that one, retire by 60. Nope. I’m not subscribing.

Vitality Isn’t a Youth Thing—It’s a You Thing

To me, vitality means choosing to be fully present in the life I have, right now. It’s not about pretending I’m still 30, it’s about being the most vibrant version of 55 I can be. That might mean lifting weights one day and bingeing documentaries the next. It might mean green smoothies or a glass of wine—or both (balance, right?).

Aging doesn’t mean fading. It means evolving. And honestly, it’s kind of freeing to realize that you get to define what that evolution looks like.

So no, I won’t be signing up for the “Silver Sunset Village” anytime soon. I’m too busy living, laughing, lifting heavy things, and showing up as the truest version of myself—55 and fabulous.

If anything, I’d be the one installing a punching bag in the rec room or starting a trail running club.

And to anyone out there who’s staring down a birthday and wondering what it all means? Just remember: you are not your age. You are your energy. Your curiosity. Your courage. Your spirit.

Because aging isn’t something I fear—it’s something I lead, with power, passion, and a damn good pair of trail running shoes.

Join me this year and beyond as I share my personal journey of embracing the physical, emotional, and spiritual challenges that come with aging. Together, we’ll explore the complexities of growing older and discover the beauty in every step of the process with a slice of humour.

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