I’ll be 60 in 14 months.

SIXTY.

S.I.X.T.Y.

What the everloving eff.

Most of the people who read this blog know that Tracy and Sam started this whole enterprise as part of their project to turn 50 with the best fitness of their lives. Now, several of us are thinking about the next decade milestone, as Sam wrote about the other day.

In that post, she shared a quote from someone on substack who wrote “if your goal is to be a kick ass 90 year old, you can’t settle for being an average 50 year old,” who pushed for the idea of “winning at the game of life.” That requires, the writer said, of maintaining fitness in the “top percentile” of strength and VO2max.

Hm.

I have a pretty visceral response to this kind of competitive framing of aging. What the hell is “average?” And what the hell is “winning at the game of life?” Blech.

Absolutely, I want to age in a way sets me up for functional fitness and an active life for however long I live — in fact, one of my very first posts for FIFI, at the age of 50, was about being fit for “the lithe old lady inside me.” In many ways, I’m not that different from the dude Sam was quoting.

But I come at the intention very differently. One of the things I’ve learned over the past two decades is to let go of that kind of … voraciousness. Feeling like I have to meet some external definition of “top tier strength” or VO2max completely displaces the true gift of aging, for me — learning to be very present to what my body is saying, responding to its shifts in a graceful, grateful way.

Movement, strength, bendiness, balance — all of these things are tremendously important to me. But I do those things now with a kind of awe, a kind of gratitude, an amazement at what my body does. At amazement that even as I’ve weathered nearly six decades of life — of loves and adventure and bad choices and moments of grace and a pandemic and a world that never stops supplying new waves of grief and anger and beauty — with all of that, I get out of bed, I go outside, I feel the air on my face and feel energy and light and a need to keep moving. How bloody amazing is that. I am *alive*. What a glorious, unlikely thing.

I run much more slowly than I did when I was running marathons in my 30s. My body is heavier. My skin is softer. I need a lot more sleep, but I have a lot more insomnia. I have had to learn about menopause and vaginal atrophy. My eyebrows fell out, FFS.

If I think about things like whether or not my running time is in a certain percentile, I just feel a sense of loss, a sense of a “losing battle.” No matter how much I train, what I eat, how I structure my life, there will never be another 95 minute half marathon in my life. That was a whole other person.

It’s freeing to let go of that. And to be in companionship with my body, to appreciate it even as it changes, to ask it what it needs to enable me to do the things I truly want to do.

This year, those things have included — riding my bike alone around Montenegro and Transylvania, in blazing heat. Embracing my yoga practice. Working toward a 3.5 minute plank. Riding my spin bike through the fake zwift world. Grabbing a rare rain-free two hour slot on work trip to Vancouver to walk the 11 km around the Stanley Park seawall, tossing in three separate kilometres of running when I felt like it. What a gift.

When I turned 30, my commitment was to quit smoking and start moving my body a little more. I didn’t know that that goal would completely reframe my identity related to my body. What a revelation that was, to let that unfold. Like Sam, like Tracy, like a lot of us — I want to turn 60 feeling fit and strong. And I want that to set me up to keep moving, to keep being able to do the things I care about, with energy, with awe, with gratitude, for the rest of my life.

I don’t think I need a particular external challenge or goal to get there. I’ve been integrating movement into my daily life for 30 years now. I know how to do it. What I do need is to keep building my capacity for awe, for gratitude. For appreciation of being able to show up for what is important to me and to the world.

What about you? How do you orient yourself to aging and fitness?

Cate Creede-Desmarais wrote this from the unceded traditional territory of the Musqueam, Squamish and Tsail-Waututh peoples.

I am talking to myself here.

I am telling myself not to be so selfish.

Am I risking “saying things out loud that I should keep to myself”? Am I inviting others to comment on my actions in ways that I’d rather not entertain? Perhaps, however, I feel it is a useful exercise to consider where one can behave differently, in life, to interact better with other humans. Also, thinking selfish thoughts doesn’t make me feel better at the time, or afterwards.

The thing is, none of us are perfect. Our thoughts are not perfect. Being good citizens of the world has more to do with how you act on your thoughts than on what you are thinking, in the first place.

Alas, I found myself wondering, on my way back from the gym the other day, “how can I train myself to be less selfish”.

I go to the gym a few times a week. There are 8 proper work stations on the “rig”. There is “one extra” if it’s not being used for personal training at the same time as the class. Typically, there are 8 or 9 people in the morning class I’ve been attending for several years. It’s part of the appeal, going to a “boutique gym” to have ample space to do the workout. It’s a luxury to feel like you don’t have to “nab a spot”, as one may feel at a larger gym.

On occasion, there are 12-14 people in the class. Typically, I arrive 10-15 min early so that I secure a spot at the rig. On occasion, we need to partner up.

On these days, as I see the extra bodies showing up, which is good for the gym, to have more members, and which is good for the people joining, that they have showed up, my mind starts hoping I don’t have to partner up that day.

The thing is, I like the people in the class. Many are friends. We see each other 3x a week. When we do partner up, I usually end up enjoying it. Do I enjoy it more than having the rig to myself. Not really?

Partly, I like keeping the rig to myself for practicality. If your partner is a different height, there will be extra adjusting of the bar. If you and your partner are lifting different weights, those will need to be switched out in between sets. In the past, in the haste of doing so, and attempting to be “extra nice and accommodating, I have “injured myself” by snagging my skin moving things around too quickly or banging a knee on the equipment. I can do these types of things on my own too, though.

Partnering can be fun for cheering each other on and encouraging each other to lift more.

Even after I’ve had a session that worked well with a partner, the next time I will still be hoping for a solo rig.

Why does my brain go to this wish so easily? How do I train my thoughts to be less selfish?

One morning, part of the third set, involved 100 sprint on the rower, and two other movements on the turf. People found their spots and alternated between for the first three sets. The turf was a bit crowded. When I went to go for my fourth set on the rower, someone had gone to the one I had been using. I had to scramble to find one. The next one I went to wasn’t working. Then I had to move to another one. My thoughts were not kind to the one who had “taken my rig”.

Why do my thoughts so easily go to annoyance? Why can’t I just be easily understanding. It’s not that I dwell on it or that she would even know I was annoyed, but, why are my thoughts so selfish?

I did the low effort activity of searching on Google for, “How to To Stop Being Selfish”. An article from “Masterclass” came up with this title. It says that the definition of “What Does it Mean to be Selfish”, is, “Selfishness means you care and think about yourself and your interests without consideration for the well-being or needs of others. Though human beings naturally exhibit some selfish behavior, especially during hard times, being self-centered or self-absorbed too often or intensely can become a bad habit that negatively affects your relationships with family members and loved ones.”

On reading this description, I don’t think it fits how I live my life. For example, I do consider others’ well-being. All of us are a little self-centered, here and there, but I always consider others when going about my business. In fact, my business, involves helping others navigate obstacles preventing them from resolving their complaints with public bodies. When I’m walking on the sidewalk, I consider others and “share the sidewalk”, which is uncommon occurrence, these days. When I’m in a store, waiting to pay for an item, I consider others and do not cut in front of them. When planning my day, week, year, I consider my husband, family and friends and how to coordinate my schedule with others.

The Masterclass article goes on to describe 6 Signs of a Selfish Person:

1. Need for Attention. I don’t mind a little attention, but I am not looking to be the centre of attention. I am also not looking to take attention away from others. I am not “loud or disruptive” as the article describes for this point.
2. Passive-aggressiveness. “privately criticizing others or attempting to damage their confidence to build up your ego. Passive aggression often stems from deep insecurities that manifest as a need for control.” I do not do this. I like to try to encourage others’ strengths not tear them down. I am not competitive, in any way, actually. Well, maybe, I can be competitive with myself. But not with others. The 5th grader at the gym hated group sports too much to be a competitive type.
3. One-sideness. “Selfish people will take up a friend’s time when they need to vent emotionally but rarely extend the same courtesy in return. You may have selfish tendencies if you frequently complain about your problems but have trouble listening to others talk about their stressors.” I do not see myself in this point. I have often been considered a good ear to vent to and a trusted source of trouble-shooting in such situations.
4. Reject advice. “If you’re selfish, you believe that you know everything and your opinion is the only one that matters. Because of this quality, you may have trouble taking advice or direction from others, especially when it runs counter to your ideas.” I do not believe I know everything. Sometimes, it can be difficult taking criticism, depending on how it’s provided, but, I am certainly open to constructive criticism and new ideas. In the gym, I welcome advice, relevant to the task at hand, if requested and from trusted sources.
5. Trouble compromising. “Self-centered people need to be in control at all times to maintain their sense of self, so compromising with others becomes extremely difficult. An inability to compromise in a relationship contributes to conflict. I don’t believe I am controlling in relationships. My brain craves control, for example, with respect to where my feet are situated during an exercise. My brain likes to feel in control in a way that prevents me from being a good ice skater or rollerblader. I encourage compromise in relationships.
6. Inability to admit wrongdoing. I can admit wrongdoing. I can admit I have selfish thoughts. I want to correct that.

This article describes the difference between Selfishness and Self Care:

Self-care means recognizing your limitations and caring enough about yourself to meet your needs. While selfishness can cause real damage to you and others, self-care has the opposite effect. The critical differences between self-care and selfishness include the following:

1. Selfishness diminishes energy, while self-care replenishes. Selfish behavior harms the perpetrator and everyone around them, robbing all involved of their self-worth and compassion. Self-care is a healthy behavior that replenishes your energy so that you can be present in your relationships.
2. Selfishness isolates, while self-care connects. Unless they suffer from people-pleasing behaviors, most healthy individuals recognize and naturally try to avoid selfish people. Self-centered people isolate themselves through their behavior and have trouble recognizing why. People who practice self-care understand that everyone has their limits, makes mistakes, and needs a break sometimes and can extend that self-compassion to others.
3. Selfishness saps self-esteem, while self-care builds it. Selfish behavior stems from a poor vision of one’s self which self-perpetuates, meaning the more you practice selfish behavior, the worse your self-esteem becomes. Restoring your physical and mental health helps you build self-esteem and increases the likelihood of expressing compassion for others.

When I read the differences between selfishness and self-care, I think my tendencies, say at the rig at the gym, veer more towards self-care – knowing my limitations, my comfort zone, etc. and wishing for an experience that serves my self-care. Part of me is thinking of the other person, when thinking of the logistics of the pairing. The thing is, I think my yearning for self-care seems to veer towards selfishness, on occasion.

On a more heavy topic, I read an opinion piece on LinkedIn the other day about how white women have the luxury to consider self-care. How it is not an option for many people of colour, for example, and how it is not helpful to people of colour to hear about “self-care”. I think about this a lot these days, also, because of bigger issues in the world. How does my day-to-day behaviour help or hurt these bigger issues? Am I being selfish when seeking for self-care? Is it prudent to care for ones self so that one can be of service, where possible, in bigger issues?

Am I making too much of nothing?

Dear Readers, can you relate to my thoughts? How do you tackle them? How do you try “not to be selfish”?