Echoes of Experience: Aging Through the Eyes of Those Who’ve Lived It

I recently went through my cellphone to listen to old voice mail messages.

The first one to pop up was a year and a half old and I was wondering why I kept it. When it came on there was a long pause before a voice came on and I knew immediately remembered the message and why I saved it. It was my friend Richard.  He was 97 at the time and I remembered clearly the line “I am getting close to my expiration date.”

Hearing his voice was like encountering a ghost because Richard died shortly after that call. He was very active up until the end. I have always wondered if those who live a very long life—into their nineties or beyond—know when the end is near. Richard did.

I am now 66 and in very good health. At this moment, it does not appear that my expiration date is just around the corner. However, I do ponder what life will be like in my eighties and nineties. My hope is to live that long, as long if my luck holds out and nothing unexpected occurs. I have three role models for living a long, fulfilling, and independent life into my eighties and nineties. Richard is one of them and my parents are the other two role models.

Looking at your parents for hints about what your future holds is only natural. You know them best and your share their DNA.

Looking to Richard as a role model is more unusual because we never met in person and that voicemail was the first time I ever heard his voice.  When I returned his call that was the first time we ever spoke to each other. We had both been members of an online running club and got to know each other through a chatroom feature on the site.  Richard, our friend Cynthia and I were in the chatroom frequently and exchanged stories of our runs and other adventures on the site. We did this for about seven or eight years until the website folded. After that we exchanged email addresses and continued our conversations.

I remember when I first started running, I was trying to do 1,000 miles in one year, which averages out to be about 20 miles a week. I remember when I looked at the website at the end of February that year, I was very proud of my total miles run. That was… until I noticed that Richard had logged more miles than I had and he was over 90 years old at the time!  

Richard was impressed that I did trail races on tough terrain and later ultra marathons, but I was more than 30 years his junior, so he impressed me more. You see Richard competed in master track and field events in his nineties. He did the 100-yard dash, long jump, 200-yard dash, and other events, often placing first or second. While I ran in my fifties and sixties, I kept wondering when I would be too old to run and compete. Richard was my model and taught me that I could be an athlete for the rest of my life.

My father who died at what I now feel was a young age of 83 also modeled aging for me. He never stopped moving, even after he retired. He worked in his yard and garage nonstop. When I had a project in my backyard, whether it was building a rock wall or taking down a tree, he was there even in his late seventies. He encouraged focusing on family and making the most of any holiday spent together.  He was my hero and I thought that he was invincible. I thought that he would live into his nineties. Yet cancer had other plans. By the time it was detected the cancer had spread and was at stage four. I believe that in this case his strength and sprightliness in his eighties masked the symptoms of cancer until it was too late.

I remember two things distinctly from his battle. Coming out of the doctor’s office and he calmly said “Sometimes there is no hiding, and death is going to get you.” He had accepted his prognosis, but his family had not and we pushed for aggressive treatment to fight back. I think he acquiesced to that only because he loved us.  The second was visiting him in the hospital and he was in so much pain and uncomfortable flailing in his bed. I knew the end was near. Yet the next day when I went to take him home for his final days, I was shocked that he was up and about like he was ready to do a chore in the yard.

Yet that miracle day was just that, a single day, and cancer got him in the end. But he never seemed old in his entire life. Even for the last few months he was not old but tired and weak.

My mother, who is still alive at the age of 98, is the one that I have studied the most. That is because I have had a front row seat for her aging process. She is a tiny old Italian woman, who is now maybe 4’6” and about 90 pounds. She just keeps going despite some major bumps in her health that might have done in others. She has a feistiness that I am sure Father Time is annoyed with.

She had a bad fall when she was in her eighties and living alone in her home. She survived but it was a wake-up call to my siblings and me that she would need to be watched more carefully. We eventually sold her house and moved her to a one-floor condo in her late eighties.

She was very independent and was living by herself even after she was no longer able to drive. We made sure that we saw her often during the week and called her every day. We had someone come in during the week to help clean the condo and watch her. If she needed something she would call. The job of taking her to church fell to me. I saw how the church community really helped her stay younger.

However, this last year a bad fall and extended time in a rehab facility took its toll. She was unable to take care of herself and needed a full-time aid. I can see the loss of energy and strength every time I see her, which is at least once a week. She always had little aches and pains, but they are now much more acute. They also do not go away with a couple of Tylenol. She lost eyesight in her left eye, and her hearing is also poor. She now needs a walker to get around.

She is not as engaged in the conversations as she used to be. It has happened very fast. At first she fought the idea of having an aide, but she now seems to have accepted that she needs one. She has lost almost all of her independence and must rely on her kids and her aide. I cringe now because when I am at one of her many doctor appointments, I now do most of the listening and talking. I am uncomfortable with this because my mother was a nurse and has more medical knowledge than I do. Yet she has let her kids take the lead on her health care.

I embrace my responsibilities to her, as do my siblings, because we are so happy that she is still in our lives. Yet I can’t help but think at those moments: How will I be at this age? How will I handle this loss of my independence? What will my final months be like? Will I be a burden to my kids?

It is the loss of independence and relying on others that petrifies me. This winter was a frigid and snowy one in New Jersey and I was shoveling my driveway and walkway after getting almost two feet of snow. I have no snow blower. As I was out there in the snow I paused from my shoveling and thought to myself “Will I still be doing this in my eighties?” Is my first concession to aging is getting a snow blower? Or is it just hiring someone?

My mother’s first concession to getting old was selling her large house. Though that was not much of a concession because my father had maintained the house and the yard. The major concession was giving up her car. That is a major loss of independence. She once told me that she did not really feel the aging process until she was in her eighties. She told my sister recently that she was not sure she will live long enough to attend my daughter’s wedding this year. I wondered if she was like my friend Richard who sensed that his “expiration date” was near.

I do a lot of manual labor around the house and run seven miles or more every day. Yet I know that while I am in excellent shape now, it will end someday. What I also learned from all three of my role models is that they were very active until the end.

They were physically always on the move and mentally always engaged. They also were surrounded by friends and family. I am emulating that model. I not only do not have a snow blower, I do not have a leaf blower. I believe engaging in physical activity is a way of staying young.

My mother is still teaching me lessons on aging with grace every day.  Every time I take her to church or to one of her many doctors I get a lesson. I observe the loss of mobility. I see her struggle to do things that once came easily, like walking to a car. That now takes great strength for her to accomplish. She is still fueled by the determination and perseverance that she has displayed throughout her life.

For now, I am ignoring morbid thoughts of my final days and focusing on the lessons all three taught me. With a positive mindset, staying physically active, and surrounding yourself with good people you can have a happy, fulfilling life even in your eighties and nineties. I’ve also learned the importance of living in the present with an eye to the future and not dwelling on the past. Even with my mother’s recent decline they all lived lives with very few restrictions on things that they could do.

When my “expiration date” draws near I am attuned enough to my body that there is a good chance I will know it.  Until then I will keep pushing myself like my three role models.

Winter Running Means Embracing the Cold

I was trudging up a narrow road and finishing my early morning run when I saw a middle-aged couple getting out of their car. Even though I did not know them I said “Hi” as I approached them. The woman had a befuddled look on her face like she was seeing something she could not understand. She said, “You really enjoy running in this weather?” New Jersey had been in the grasp of an extreme cold spell and most of my runs were in the single digits, though on this day it was a balmy 15 degrees. I replied “Yes!” She replied with an incredulous “Really?” She looked at me like I was the bearded lady in a circus exhibit. I did not have the heart to say that I like it a lot better than heat. I struggle when it gets into the high 80’s or 90’s.

I knew she didn’t live in that house because I run this route almost daily and know the faces of the homeowners. I pictured her entering the house and telling her friends that she saw a man running outside in this cold weather, and what a strange neighborhood this is.

I find it fascinating that people are so shocked that I run in the cold. Besides that woman, others have been shocked when, on an extremely frigid day, I note that I did my morning run outside. People have asked “Doesn’t it hurt to breath in that weather?” My reply is “No”. It is as if running is a warm weather sport only. I must admit that there are runners I know who, when the temperatures dip below the freezing mark, head to a treadmill or a fitness center. When I first took up running, I was a heavy treadmill user even joining an online system so that I could pretend that I was running in all parts of the world. Now I search for races that take place in all parts of the world. I believe the last time I was on my treadmill was about ten months ago and that was when I was training for running the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim and my second run of the day would be put on the steepest incline so I could extra incline in my workout. Simulating a long steep climb out of the canyon.

What happened you might ask? Well, my racing now is almost exclusively ultra-marathons and trail races. While treadmills give you great workouts, I find that running is more than just the miles covered. All miles are not created equal. The type of races I run challenge you with the terrain and elements. Conquering miles is relatively easy conquering bad weather and difficult terrain is another. Therefore, I decided to run outside no matter what.

I soon found many benefits to running in all types of weather. First you learn how to dress for the elements. There is an old saying which I believe is Norwegian and it is “There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes.” I have found this to be almost completely true. I now look at the weather forecast on my phone and adjust my gear to the temperatures I will be facing.

Second, and maybe most surprisingly, cold runs are almost more peaceful. After a snowfall it is eerily quiet and beautiful. There are always fewer people out and there are not as many birds and animals. They will all return in the spring. It is more meditative to run when the only thing you can hear are your own footsteps and breathing.

Third, it helps build resilience. Obstacles are placed in front of us daily. Despite my bravado about running in the cold, it is always a chore to get out from under a nice warm blanket in bed and bundle on the layers to brave the cold. We humans – as most creatures –instinctively like a warm and comfortable setting as opposed to one that is cold, frigid, and sometimes even wet.

My morning routine actually starts the night before. I check the hourly weather on my phone to see what it will be like around 7 a.m. I brace myself for hot weather in the summer, and rain and wind particularly in spring and fall. In the winter however you need to really get your mind around running in tough weather. Especially frigid temperatures in the single digits like we have experienced this year. 

In order to ease my run on those mornings I get my running gear out the night before. On those days when it is single digits it is a pile of layers of clothing. Heavy winter gloves with an extra glove liner. Long pants with a base layer. Not just a winter cap but a head mask. After years of running outside in almost all weathers I have a routine and outfit for all occasions.

As you can see, it takes some effort to get out the front door. Yet once out that front door and I start running it seems the cold is not that much an issue if I am dressed correctly. I usually make that assessment at mile two. The one weather element that can affect me the most is wind. Especially a strong gust. It can instantly make you cold when just a second before you were fine.

While there are some nerves about going out the front door there is great feeling when coming back in the front door. On weekends my wife or son may be there to greet me and not really congratulate me but question my sanity.

When I arrive home, I begin to shed the many layers I am wearing. This is not as easy as it sounds because my glasses fog up instantly as I get inside. I begin to leave a pile of clothes and gear in the foyer. The only thing that dampens my enthusiasm is knowing that all those layers will need to be washed.

There is always a great feeling finishing a run that is hard to explain to others. It means no matter what happens the rest of the day you have accomplished something. That feeling of accomplishment is stronger on a cold frigid day. You not only finished your run but you conquered the elements. You overcame an obstacle. Other people may be deterred but you were not. I am not crazy but determined.

A couple of days later it was the coldest day of the year, at one degree with wind chills at seventeen below zero.  I am once again finishing up my run of seven miles, when I see my friend Joe coming out the front door of his house as I run by his house. He looks at me and says “Ray, you know you are crazy.” As if there is no debate on the issue. I replied “Just a little.” That is the thing that one has to accept when you run in the frigid cold. You think you are determined but your family, friends and even strangers think you are crazy. Maybe I am, but as I told Joe, only a little.

Surviving Emergency Rooms as a Caregiver

The holidays were over and there were no events or obligations on this day. My wife and I looked at each other and knew what we had to do. It was to go to a place that we both dreaded. It’s a place that I am familiar with visiting. Most of the time in my life I am confident, happy and at ease with my surroundings. Yet the trip we were about to take was to a place that made me feel helpless with no control in my life. It is a mind-numbing place where time drags exceedingly slowly. It was a trip to the emergency room with a possible hospital stay to follow. This time the patient was my wife.

I had prepped myself for the journey. While I am very good shape for a 66-year old man and have been fortunate enough to be fairly healthy, I am still pretty experienced at going to the emergency room and hospitals. As we age, even if we are healthy ourselves, the people around us may not be that lucky. In my case my 98-year-old mother has had numerous emergency room visits over the years for various reasons such as falls and severe UTIs.

There are consistent sights and sounds that you experience. The beeping of the monitors keeping track of all the patients’ vitals. EMTs coming into the hallways with gurneys and new patients. You can’t help but overhear some patients moaning and their conversations with either medical staff or a loved one. Medical staff are scurrying around, although it is hard to tell what their job is because even with name tags it is difficult to tell who a nurse, doctor, or technician is. For me personally, there is negative energy in the air even though most patients are getting great medical care.  While it is a chaotic scene it moves in super slow motion if you are a patient or caregiver there to support a loved one. Various staff members come in to set the patient up or maybe take them to get a test. The doctor comes in before and after the test results, but the minutes soon turn into hours, and you have no answers. You spend hours doing nothing but waiting to see who will come next.

As I mentioned, I prep for these visits and for all that downtime. I always bring a book and my cellphone. Often, I bring my laptop. Many times, my mother will doze off so I would sit there quietly maybe texting my family to update them but there is little to update them on until the very end. While your focus is on your loved one you can’t help but feel a bit helpless. You have almost no control over what is going to happen. Your job is to be positive and supportive for your loved one.

Going with my wife was a little different than my frail mother. I saw this coming for a while. She had a procedure that was supposed to solve a problem with her esophagus (A very rare condition.) that prevented her from eating solid food and even some liquids. It had not worked and three weeks later she was no better, in fact she was getting worse. Losing weight and energy. She had somehow survived not eating during the holidays but the adrenaline that got her through the holidays was now gone. She knew she had to get treatment. Our son and I had been pushing her to be more aggressive in getting medical treatment, but she had resisted. She works at a hospital and knows how the system works. An emergency room visit is never a quick undertaking; it is a long journey.

I wanted to be as supportive as I could for my wife on this journey. Yet it is hard to be positive in such a chaotic environment. As is the case with many emergency room visits, this one was an ordeal. It was overcrowded and patients were on gurneys in the hallway. Even our walk to her hallway bed was detoured because of a gurney traffic jam. The patients’ ailments ran the gamut. I don’t know how the medical staff handle it at an emergency room. There are people with almost any injury or disease you can imagine, and the staff has to deal with individuals who are having psychiatric issues, heart attacks, or orthopedic issues. The older woman about four feet from my wife was holding a baby doll as if it was her baby. She was suffering from dementia but had also collapsed.  She held on to baby for dear life and fought the help of the staff until her son came.

I could not even stand or sit next to my wife because the constant gurney traffic made me stand or sit in a chair at the foot of her bed. My wife who is very practical said to me “You should go home. There is nothing you can do here.” I ignored her because I thought that was a preposterous request but also because there was something I could do there. It was to get answers to her condition. One of the other things I learned with my mother’s visits was how critical it is to take in all the information the staff gives you.

The other thing about emergency rooms is that you are surrounded not just by chaos, but it seems like you are in an environment that is so unhealthy. I get bad health vibes because no matter where you turn there is someone in a bad way. I am afraid to touch anything. I feel that there are germs all around me trying to take me down. I feel vulnerable in this environment. As part of my prep for these visits, I also wear a race shirt (I am a very avid runner.) hoping that that helps stave off the bad juju of the emergency room. The germs I envision are like a lion picking out the weak and injured in a herd. The germs will ignore me and seek easier prey. I know…this is not exactly scientific, but it gives me a sense of confidence.

We finally got answers and we learned that my wife would be okay, but it would take some time including a hospital stay.  I would then be visiting her daily and hearing her regularly say “go home and do something useful” which I of course ignored.

I guess a trip to the emergency room is an admission that you have to put the life of someone you love in the hands of others. You are seeking both treatment and answers. It is very difficult to endure just being almost a bystander in the life of someone you love. But the most important part of being in this environment in which time seems to stand still is that you are there. Think about a loved one being there all alone. For me I think having someone by your side, even if they feel helpless, makes a difference. Even if my wife will not admit it.

As I age, I know that there are more trips in my future to emergency rooms and hospitals. While I have acquired the skills to better handle these situations, there is no joy in having this expertise.

Powered by the Placebo in the Race and in Life

Like any athlete (Yes, at 66 I still consider myself an athlete) I am always looking for ways to improve my performance. As one who runs ultra marathons, I am particular about my shoes, socks, and other gear. I’m always looking for something that could make me more successful. I am even particular about the placebo I use as a supplement. Yes, I do take a supplement and have done so for years.

I am fairly certain that the company that manufactures my supplement would take umbrage that I am calling their product a placebo. In that company’s defense, I did analyze their research and their claims and felt comfortable enough to order the product.

And as I said, I have been taking it for years now. What I noticed after a while was that my recovery was much easier once I was taking the supplement. After a grueling race I used to be very sore and stiff the next day or two and I almost always took Ibuprofen to ease the pain. Even my wife began to notice. Not long ago, without prompting, she said “I don’t know what it is but your recovery from these races is so much better.” I am sure that the company would like that quote for their advertisement.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not saying I am paying money for sugar pills. I believe that this supplement works. They key word there is “believe.”  If one believes they will perform that goes a long way. Without believing your performance will suffer.

Yet believing has made it difficult when researchers do studies on performance-enhancing nutrients that will increase oxygen flow to muscles or blood flow. Because many studies have shown that athletes’ performances improve with the placebos because they just believe they will. In fact, there have been studies in which all the athletes were just given placebos and were lied to, and told it was a performance-enhancing procedure. Then low and behold their performances improved.

That is the power of the placebo. It makes you believe in your ability to accomplish something.  Success in running or almost any endeavor relies on one believing that they can do something. Not thinking they “probably can” but have the confidence that they will do something. This may seem like it is a slight change in your mindset, but it is huge. It means that you have confidence in your ability to achieve something.

Now you may be asking yourself, “Ray if you think that your supplement is a placebo then how can it improve your recovery?” That is a good question. I wish I had a great answer. First, I do really believe that it helped my recovery. Primarily because, I was not looking for it to do that but was pleasantly surprised. Second, I am good at lying to myself.

All this speaks to the power of the mind in our performance. I have found in my numerous ultra-marathons that it is just as much a mind game as it is a physical feat. There have been many times when I thought my body was near its breaking point only to have my brain tell me we can do it. Like climbing the last steep six miles out of the Grand Canyon last year after having thrown up and with no nutrients in me. Another time my body was able but the brain told me it was time to stop. That was on a 30-hour run and I reached my goal of 100 miles with time to do another loop or two but since I had reached my goal my brain began to shut down and I stopped.

Now I will apologize to the company that produces my supplement. It truly does work. Just like the gear I chose such as my shoes, hydration pack and clothing. Through the process of trial and error I settle on things that I find help me perform my best. Yet they can only do so much. My physical training is very important, so is my mindset. Athletic endeavors are a mix of the body and the mind.

As baseball hall of famer and famous American philosopher Yogi Berra once said “Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical." Many famous professional athletes have superstitions that they follow because they believe it will make them perform better. Serena Williams would wear the same pair of socks throughout a tournament without washing them. Michael Jordan always wore his UNC shorts under his professional shorts. Baseball hall of famer Wade Boggs famously only ate chicken before each game.

Each of these strange actions has something in common with my supplement. (Actually mine at least has some science behind it –at least more science than a smelly sock.) They all help focus our minds on the job at hand. Like those famous athletes I believe that I will succeed. I guess we are all powered by placebos. You just have to truly believe.