On ageing

Age is just a number.

Close friends sometimes marvel at how, at my age, I still continue to flog my body with less-than human workout regimes as if I were still in my twenties – carrying a backpack with aluminium pallets up a steep hill, running on the treadmill with a steep incline, and doing pull-ups and dips with a dumbbell dangling from my ankles – and ending each workout session with drool from my lips, gasping for breath, and looking as if I were about to pass out.

I take mild offence whenever friends, relatives or the occasional passer-by tells me, “Ah, but you are not as young as you used to be, so you should not expect your body to perform the way it used to when you were in your twenties.” Now, I am not saying that I am blissfully denying and ignoring the unavoidable fact that I am physically ageing. But at the same time, allowing that fact to be the damper that retards my determination to push the envelope of my physical limits will allow and cause my body to atrophy and deteriorate according to my biological age. On the other hand, if I condition my body to consistently withstand the physical strains, it will remain at an above-average performance level belying its true biological age. Let the vast number of veteran marathon runners in their sixties, who leave the mediocre folks who are a full generation or two younger than them panting in the dust, bear testimony to this.

Ageing is not limited to the physical. A lot of it has to do with the mind, too. And by that, I mean attitude. By their mid-thirties, most people tend to stop exploring new horizons. By their sixties, many would have completely ceased even learning new things. They become risk-averse and unreceptive to new ideas, preferring to remain within their comfort zone and life-long habits. And because it results in laziness of the mind, those little grey cells stop working and start degenerating.

I marvel at the 18^th century mathematician Carl Frederick Gauss who, in his old age, kept his mind active by acquiring new languages just for the fun of it. It was his way of keeping his already razor-sharp mind – machined to perfection by years of research and analysis into calculus and algebra – active till the very last day of his illustrious life. Friends wonder why, at thirty-something, I bother to indulge in such meaningless and non value-added activities as reading mathematics books and studying archaic Chinese dialects. True, insofar as pragmatic life is concerned, they may be ‘non value-added’ activities. But to me, they definitely add value to my mind. I am keeping my mind active by allowing it to indulge in, and feed upon things that stimulate and interest me.

The girl in my life has often chided me for my occasionally acting very boyish, or even childish, especially in my expressions of love and affection. I still enjoy the simple joys of teenage-like love – pummeling with my girl’s fingers, the occasional pout, bear hugs and butterfly kisses. To me, these simple actions are a manifestation of how, at thirty-something, I still see love through rose-coloured glasses – cute and innocent, without the need for all the trappings of a jaded “been there, done that, so let’s just get on with it” adult life. A lot of the joy in love is spawned from having a pure and positive attitude towards it. People wonder why love seems to fade away and die out as married couples get older. The answer is simple: They have lost sight of what it once meant to be young and in love. For love is one thing that the harsh realities of adult life should not, and must not, be allowed to dampen and kill off.

Whether we like it or not, we are ageing by the moment. So, the way I see it, why make the journey all the more depressing by constantly reminding ourselves of it, and allowing it to dampen our mental and physical activities, when there is no reason why we cannot slow it down by constantly pushing the mental and physical envelope? It is not about being old – it is about thinking, acting and living young that keeps us truly young.

Age is just a number.