Amy Bryant, Age 80
“Amy, at our age we can’t be doing what we did when we were younger. We have to slow down.”
I had just told my friend that I was recovering from surgery on a shattered wrist, resulting from a tennis accident, and right away she jumped to the age factor.
Like many of us who became fans of 70 Candles in our seventies, I now light 80 candles on my cake.
Prior to the mishap, I was a lively ol’ gal. Zumba three times a week, tennis three times a week, walking a mile a day in one of Florida’s parks, trails, or bayside streets, and dancing in the club once or twice a week. That makes six active days. On the seventh, I went down to the local resort, stretched out poolside in the sun with a glass of wine, and luxuriated with a free conscience.
Our family is no stranger to broken bones. My daughter’s broken arm at 10 while skating. my grandson’s broken finger at 20 while rock climbing, and then my other daughter’s broken hand at 49 while skiing. Funny, there was no mention of an age factor when evaluating their breaks. Nobody cautioned, you’re ten, be careful, you’re 20 slow down, you’re 49 best find a more passive activity. We’re an athletic family and broken bones come from being athletic at any age.
When I turned 70, I followed the role model and the advice of my mother, make younger friends. About a third of my friends are my age. The rest are in their fifties to mid-sixties. So when they heard of my mishap, their responses were: “You’ve got this, Amy.” “You’re a rock star.” “You’ll be back on the courts in no time.” “Your arm may be broken, but not your spirit.”
Don’t feel sorry for me with my broken bones. Remember:
I’m an 80-year-old athlete . . . and a rock star! I’ll see you on the court.