As Aging Touches Me, I Will Respond

Seventy, surprise, and the recalibration of strength.

It’s finally arrived.

It’s my 70th birthday.

I have plans.

It begins with my 1,000th Peloton ride. I’ve chosen a special Aussie ride with Ben Alldis and INXS. I’m not sure I’ll keep up—but I did!

It’s not just performance.

It’s Identity. Strength. Aliveness. I feel bulletproof.

I’m expecting the first birthday call from my London-based daughter and her family.

Then my son and granddaughter have taken the day off work and organised lunch at a very bougie restaurant by the beach. I protest—to no avail.

Paper Daisy it is.

We arrange to meet at the restaurant. My son greets us outside and says he has some bad news: my granddaughter (his daughter) can’t make it. Something came up at work.

No problem. The three of us will have a lovely lunch. We walk in together.

As we turn the corner to enter the restaurant, pure shock hits.

Seated around the table are my daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter, who had flown in from London the day before to surprise me.

Nothing prepares you for that moment.

Time stands still.

My heart pounds.

Tears flow.

How could this be real?

My daughter approaches with the biggest bunch of flowers I’ve ever seen and wraps me in a hug. Her daughter is filming. The staff are smiling ear to ear—they’re in on it. I’m shaking as I hug everyone in turn.

I am completely out of my body.

And would be for the rest of the day.

They had been planning this for months. My husband wasn’t even told—they thought he might cave during one of my many “I don’t want to turn 70” moments. (There were plenty.)

Champagne corks pop. We settle into a long lunch. We laugh at the logistics of pulling off such a feat.

They stay for two glorious weeks of summer heaven—beaches, favourite cafés, old friends, family catch-ups—a warm contrast to wintry, grey London. Precious time together.

Maybe my 70s won’t be so bad after all.

And Then

Departure day arrives too soon.

As they pack, I head to my doctor for my bone mineral density test results.

I sit down. None of the usual banter with my doctor about our Peloton experiences. I’m immediately hit with “Osteoporosis.”

The second shock of my 70th decade.

How can this be? The last time I had a BMD test, I was informed I had the bones of a 25-year-old! I am very fit and very healthy. I am so unprepared.

She outlines options: the Onero/LIFTMOR program, supplements, and medication.

Drugs right now? A hard no. I run this show. I need to process this news first.

How did I go from riding a challenging Peloton ride on my 70th birthday to having osteoporosis two weeks later?

I wasn’t prepared for my body to interrupt my bulletproof narrative. I had built an identity around capability. And here I was, facing fragility.

The grief is real. I am not bulletproof.

I had to move very quickly from:

I am strong and therefore protected

and come to terms with:

I am strong and therefore responsible.

This decade will require adaptation.

My Recalibration

I decide Osteoporosis does not mean fragile.

It means load becomes medicine.

By the time I drove my family to the airport that afternoon, I had mapped out my heavy lifting program based on Onero/LIFTMOR.

I pulled my ruck vest out of the cupboard,

bought an aerobic stepper on Facebook Marketplace and

moved my Peloton bike to the background for now.

Weight-bearing comes forward—heavy lifting, rucking, hiking, step classes.

Fortunately, I love all of them.

I turn to my My Role Models for inspiration

Joan McDonald (@trainwithjoan)

At 70, she had high blood pressure, was on multiple medications and sedentary.

At 80, she is:

• Strong

• Muscular

• Independent

• Still training

Not perfect.

Not immortal.

But engaged.

Her decade wasn’t about reversing time.

It was about refusing passive decline.

My Dad at 93

He is not symptom-free.

He is not bulletproof.

But he has a stance:

Every day counts.

That is Aging with Attitude.

Not denial.

Not bitterness.

Not nostalgia.

Presence.

What They Share

They are not fighting aging. They are inhabiting it.

And that is what life is inviting me into.

Not:

I am strong, therefore aging won’t touch me.

But:

As aging touches me, I will respond.

Seventy is not the end of strength. It is the beginning of deliberate strength.

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Favorite reads this week:

The Protein that keeps you out of the nursing home by Heather Hausenblas, PhD

Move Because It Feels Good: A Better Approach to Staying Active by Healthy Seniors

The 60-Year Career: What Does That Actually Mean? by Denise Taylor