Last week I had some comments from another blogger with a "by Sixty" mindset.
That got me to thinking....how many blogs are out there with challenges for those of us facing sixty?
Hard to say but I found a few.
Project Sixty is written by Stephen Bowden and his goal is "to get back to competitive running after a 20 year break and to break a few local records for my age group and to continue when I am 60+". As far as I can tell he has been working out a lot and working hard and running. Lots of running. Also, looks like he lives across the big pond. I think that is the best thing about blogging: people from all over the world.
Mr. Bowden (I presume),pic from his blog, run, run. running.
Then there is Sixty By Sixty, a blog dedicated to one woman's goal of playing "sixty pipe organs before I turn sixty". It appears she's an accidental church organist, but once she got started she decided to challenge herself. She gave herself 30 months to play 60 organs- so two different organs a month. Looks like she completed her task this past summer.
A beautiful and impressive organ.
Pic from 60 by 60.
And how about Ski Sixty for Sixty? A ten year plan for one woman, Camille from New York, to ski sixty new (to her) ski areas. Started in 2009, looks like she is about half way done. What a great excuse to travel if nothing else. And stay in shape.
One of Ski Sixty for Sixty's destinations.
Again, pic from her blog.
This is one of the pics from her Red Rock Canyon hike in Colorado Springs.
I may need to check this place out. Looks gorgeous.
So I had to wipe out my computer history and "force quit" Safari and erase cookies. Because it would NOT go away with a simple X.
With that I quit looking.
But it makes me so happy to know that all over the world there are people who are refusing to "go gentle into that good night"*. Who see getting older as an opportunity to start something new, learn something new, begin something new.
In two weeks I turn 59. That number astounds me. I confess it sounds old. Really old. I've been looking at the remaining challenges on my list. I may change a couple of them as they don't seem as interesting now as they did two years ago. I gave myself permission in the beginning to do that, so it's all okay. I've already thrown in a couple of "bonus" challenges and I've expanded on a couple of completed challenges.
This weekend I am going to two big Christmas fairs in/near Denver. I consider that an extension of No. 14: Go to the Nutcracker Market.
The Nutcracker Market in Houston, 2012.
And I am trying to do one random act of kindness a day for the month of December. That would be an extension of No. 47: Pay for Someone Else's Coffee/Meal/Toll. I started with a care package to my Big Guy. But I'm not going to make them all monetary. It can be as easy as a compliment, holding a door, letting someone else go in front of me at the grocery store. Something to get me into the spirit of the season.
Join me.
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Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
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