As a physician I have always believed, and counseled patients to this effect, that it is never too late to make changes in your life to improve your health. I believe exercise is the only true magic bullet to achieving your best life from the standpoint of quality and avoiding unnecessary physical limitations. The late George Sheehan, cardiologist, runner, philosopher, and author, stated that he saw exercise as the way to delay and shorten your years if dependence on others. Always drawn to endurance sports, I ran my first marathon at age 45 despite self-induced knee problems from improper training. In the years that followed, I ran several more. At at 61, I completed a full Ironman triathlon (which, by the way, I will probably never try to repeat). I still run today but try to listen to my body and pace myself. Having retired last year at age 72, I now find myself wondering what to do with chapter 2- learn a language, pick up a musical instrument, hike the Appalachian Trail? It is exciting to have almost umlimited options.
I have stories in my own circle of friends and family similar to that of Dr. and Mrs. P.My hat is off to them. I hope others who read this excellent piece with draw inspiration from its lesson.
At age 38 and recently divorced, I decided to retunr to college to get the degree I had dropped out of in 1969. After a long fight to be allowed to return (with the help of a nun who had the Adviser job in my dept when I left and when I returned 18 years later) I had to take 10 classes in 2 semesters and get no worse than 2 Bs and 8 As. I did, and it raised my cumulative GPA (for 192 credit hours) to 1.98. The Asst Dean of my college toled me he was "gifting" me the degre and I should go away. I was the oldest full-time undergrad in the unversity at the time. I also worked 40+ hours a week and slept about 4 hours a night.
After that I delivered pizzas for a living ( a pretty good one, too), took the GRE, talked to some of my profs and the suggested I speak to a renowned prof in my area of interest. So I called him ans set up an appointment.
I met wth the prof and the 15 minutes I had asked for turned into 2 hours. He suggested I apply for their brand new combined MS/PhD. Program. I protesed that I was 42 at the time and it would take years to get the PhD. He asked me, "How old will you be in 6-7 years if you don't pursue the degree?"
So, I got entered (he fought for me in committee, made me his Research Assistant, and the rest of the profs were appalled by my GPA and my age. One literally told me I should be ashamed for taking up a slot from someone who was young enough to "have a real career.")
I had met my current wife earlier, and a year later she was accepted into the same program. We got married in 1992, and I finally earned my PhD in 1999. In the meantime I had been teaching in various adjunct jobs at several colleges and universities.
I was intervewed for a 2-year "visiting" prof position in 2000, (a weird story of its own) and settled, almost by accident into a 21-year career at age 53. I never got tenure. I was never on tenure track. I was "re-hired on a rolling 3-year contract until I retired.
When any of my students (or others) said they were too old to change careers, I told them my story. It's never too late.
I eventually mentored undergrad and grad student who were "older tan average" ncluding one who began his college years at age 65. (He graduated on time and gained a job he loved at age 69.) Lots of my "older" students successfully changed their careers. Mostly it takes awareness, hard work, persistence, and "want-to".
I retired from my first job at 54 and took up another career entirely. I retired from that at 75 and have now embarked on my third career -- reading posts like Bastiat's Window. It's been a very good life.
Wonderful to hear about lives well lived in circumstances we can only imagine. It's important to remember that in those times TB was common, Polio crippled people and dysentery happened far to often.
And that's just the short list. Yet, they managed not only to live but to succeed.
When my wife and I adopted a four-year-old girl in our mid-fifties, people asked us if we really wanted to be parents of a teenager in our sixties. We said we did. My lawyer, who gave birth to twin boys when she was 45, warned us that people would mistake us for our daughter's grandparents. She was right. I wish that once, just once, we could be mistaken for our granddaughter's parents but it really is too late for some things.
Born in Vienna, her father was snatched off the street when Kristalnacht started and put in Dachau, which was then a concentration camp.
Two months later, age 11, she was sent to England on the Kindertransport, where she stayed through the war.
Her father was released mid ‘39, they had weeks only to leave, he and his wife emigrated to Santiago. And stayed until her sister’s husband died in Toronto and she decided to move there. She and her husband were then in their early 60’s. He was a chazan, she ended up working in a laundromat.
Oh, and my mother emigrated to the US in 1950, still sharp as a tack at 98 today. And a memory thst goes back to age 2. Amazing..
Another amazing post, wonderfully told! Resilience is a hot topic these days and this is a solid gold example!
Bob,
As a physician I have always believed, and counseled patients to this effect, that it is never too late to make changes in your life to improve your health. I believe exercise is the only true magic bullet to achieving your best life from the standpoint of quality and avoiding unnecessary physical limitations. The late George Sheehan, cardiologist, runner, philosopher, and author, stated that he saw exercise as the way to delay and shorten your years if dependence on others. Always drawn to endurance sports, I ran my first marathon at age 45 despite self-induced knee problems from improper training. In the years that followed, I ran several more. At at 61, I completed a full Ironman triathlon (which, by the way, I will probably never try to repeat). I still run today but try to listen to my body and pace myself. Having retired last year at age 72, I now find myself wondering what to do with chapter 2- learn a language, pick up a musical instrument, hike the Appalachian Trail? It is exciting to have almost umlimited options.
I have stories in my own circle of friends and family similar to that of Dr. and Mrs. P.My hat is off to them. I hope others who read this excellent piece with draw inspiration from its lesson.
Rick
At age 38 and recently divorced, I decided to retunr to college to get the degree I had dropped out of in 1969. After a long fight to be allowed to return (with the help of a nun who had the Adviser job in my dept when I left and when I returned 18 years later) I had to take 10 classes in 2 semesters and get no worse than 2 Bs and 8 As. I did, and it raised my cumulative GPA (for 192 credit hours) to 1.98. The Asst Dean of my college toled me he was "gifting" me the degre and I should go away. I was the oldest full-time undergrad in the unversity at the time. I also worked 40+ hours a week and slept about 4 hours a night.
After that I delivered pizzas for a living ( a pretty good one, too), took the GRE, talked to some of my profs and the suggested I speak to a renowned prof in my area of interest. So I called him ans set up an appointment.
I met wth the prof and the 15 minutes I had asked for turned into 2 hours. He suggested I apply for their brand new combined MS/PhD. Program. I protesed that I was 42 at the time and it would take years to get the PhD. He asked me, "How old will you be in 6-7 years if you don't pursue the degree?"
So, I got entered (he fought for me in committee, made me his Research Assistant, and the rest of the profs were appalled by my GPA and my age. One literally told me I should be ashamed for taking up a slot from someone who was young enough to "have a real career.")
I had met my current wife earlier, and a year later she was accepted into the same program. We got married in 1992, and I finally earned my PhD in 1999. In the meantime I had been teaching in various adjunct jobs at several colleges and universities.
I was intervewed for a 2-year "visiting" prof position in 2000, (a weird story of its own) and settled, almost by accident into a 21-year career at age 53. I never got tenure. I was never on tenure track. I was "re-hired on a rolling 3-year contract until I retired.
When any of my students (or others) said they were too old to change careers, I told them my story. It's never too late.
I eventually mentored undergrad and grad student who were "older tan average" ncluding one who began his college years at age 65. (He graduated on time and gained a job he loved at age 69.) Lots of my "older" students successfully changed their careers. Mostly it takes awareness, hard work, persistence, and "want-to".
I retired from my first job at 54 and took up another career entirely. I retired from that at 75 and have now embarked on my third career -- reading posts like Bastiat's Window. It's been a very good life.
Thanks for this post, Professor.
I am devastated by this post. I hate it. “Bad post,” I say, “Very bad.” I have run out of excuses and rationalizations.
Wonderful to hear about lives well lived in circumstances we can only imagine. It's important to remember that in those times TB was common, Polio crippled people and dysentery happened far to often.
And that's just the short list. Yet, they managed not only to live but to succeed.
What a wonderful bit of encouragement. Thank you for this!
My friends and I went through a Richard Bach phase in college. I have to admit, some of the things he said really rang true down the years.
“Here is a test to find whether your mission on Earth is finished: If you're alive it isn't.” Richard Bach.
When my wife and I adopted a four-year-old girl in our mid-fifties, people asked us if we really wanted to be parents of a teenager in our sixties. We said we did. My lawyer, who gave birth to twin boys when she was 45, warned us that people would mistake us for our daughter's grandparents. She was right. I wish that once, just once, we could be mistaken for our granddaughter's parents but it really is too late for some things.
Similar to my mother’s story.
Born in Vienna, her father was snatched off the street when Kristalnacht started and put in Dachau, which was then a concentration camp.
Two months later, age 11, she was sent to England on the Kindertransport, where she stayed through the war.
Her father was released mid ‘39, they had weeks only to leave, he and his wife emigrated to Santiago. And stayed until her sister’s husband died in Toronto and she decided to move there. She and her husband were then in their early 60’s. He was a chazan, she ended up working in a laundromat.
Oh, and my mother emigrated to the US in 1950, still sharp as a tack at 98 today. And a memory thst goes back to age 2. Amazing..
Everyone has a story..
Wow.