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My 60th birthday came and went last Saturday, amid little fanfare. Well, actually there was quite a bit of fanfare because my high school class (’73, Washington High School), held a group 60th birthday party. Coincidentally, they held it on my birthday. We all gathered on the Gateway Clipper riverboat in Pittsburgh, to Cruise into the Sixties.
The dinner cruise was from 6:30-9:00, and those were without question the fastest two and a half hours I have ever experienced. It felt like the cruise had just started when we pulled back to the dock.
I hadn’t seen any of my classmates in 42 years. There was so much to talk about, so many people to reconnect with. But time passed too quickly.
Where had the time gone?
That’s the question I face daily as I embark on my seventh decade on planet earth.
Where has the time gone?
Turning sixty has not been a depressing event for me. I’m not sad that I’m “growing old.” The adage You’re as young as you feel, is true. My body might be 60, but I feel the same as when I was 20 and 30 and 40 and 50.
I’ve got a lot to live for and I feel like I’m just now hitting my stride.
The only difference is that now I am acutely aware of the ticking of the clock. That awareness didn’t spring up overnight; it’s been building for the last five or six years.
In past years, I paid little attention to the passing of time and wasted quite a lot of it. Now I am conscious that my time is limited. I want to make the most of every minute, every second.
Turning sixty isn’t that bad.
It really isn’t.
It is little more than a signpost along the way that reminds me of the brevity of my journey and the amount of work I still need to do.