Getting Old Sucks

But not ALL of the time

Getting old… well, it kind of stinks.

Okay, maybe that’s not entirely fair.

The truth is, getting older is a privilege…one that quite a few of my friends never got. That reality hits a little closer these days. I’ve reached the age where checking the obituaries has quietly become part of my morning routine. And more often than I’d like, I see a name I recognize. Not always someone close, but someone I knew… or at least knew of. That’s the reality of growing up in a small town—it all stays connected.

And it has a way of reminding you: time is moving.

One of the biggest changes I’ve noticed is this—I’ve had to slow down.

Not by choice, at least not at first.

I’m not as fast as I used to be. At anything.

Riding my bicycle? Slower.
Walking? Definitely slower. (Although to be fair, part of that is having a dog who feels morally obligated to stop and sniff every 30 feet.)
Learning new music? Slower than it used to be.

Right now, we’re preparing for the Fleadh Cheoil, a traditional Irish music festival, and I’m working on learning five new pieces. Years ago, I would’ve picked those up pretty quickly. These days… it takes a little longer. More repetition. More patience.

Even waking up takes longer. I’m no longer bounding out of bed, ready to take on the world at full speed.

Reading? Same story. I read slower now. And sometimes I have to go back and read things again. Occasionally more than once.

For a while, all of that felt frustrating.

But here’s what I’ve started to realize:

Slowing down isn’t all bad.

In fact: It might be one of the best things that has happened to me.

Because now, I notice more.

Things that have been right in front of me for years.

Flowers in our own neighborhood that I somehow missed for the past twenty years. The way the light hits them in the morning. The little details I would have rushed right past before.

Sounds, too.

Birds chirping. Kids playing somewhere down the street. The familiar creak of a screen door hinge opening and closing. The kind of everyday sounds that used to blend into the background… but now feel like part of the moment.

Slowing down has also made me more intentional.

I used to do a lot of things quickly…and honestly, a little haphazardly. (Okay, I’m still a little haphazard… just not quite as much as I used to be.)

Now, I take my time more. I think things through. And because of that, I actually retain more. Things stick better. Whether it’s music, reading, or just conversations—I’m more present for it.

And maybe the biggest change of all…

I connect with people more.

I’m not constantly moving from one thing to the next, trying to stay on pace or beat some invisible clock. I’m not rushing through the day like I used to.

I’m strolling.

And when you’re strolling, something happens: You’re available.

If a neighbor wants to stop and talk, I can stop and talk.
If I see something beautiful on a bike ride, I can stop and take a picture—without feeling like I’m falling behind.
If someone needs a few extra minutes of my time, I can give it.

There’s a peace in that.

Slowing down teaches patience.
It teaches awareness.
It teaches gratitude for small things that used to feel insignificant.

It even teaches acceptance—of where we are, and who we are becoming.

No, I don’t move as fast as I used to.

But maybe I’m finally moving at the right speed.

And if slowing down means I see more, hear more, feel more, and connect more…

Then maybe it’s not something to fight.

Maybe it’s something to be thankful for.