Re: Is 50 the new 100?
Jason Roehl
My dad was age 68 when I first noticed he was “getting old.” He grew up on a farm in SD, and though his career was a desk job (engineer, then management), he always remained active—softball leagues, golf, walking, yard work, etc. He retired in his late 50s, and then would go with a volunteer group of mostly retirees that helped build churches several times a year.
Then one summer he came to help me re-roof my house. It was late June, and we started tearing off on a Monday that was hot and humid. We got one half done, and he was ready to pay someone else to do it. Next day, my college-age nephew and a friend’s teenage son showed up to help, so they finished tear-off, while we did some repairs and started laying shingles. We got roof-top delivery, and the rest of the week was much cooler, abnormally, and thankfully. Near the end of the project we were a couple bundles short on shingles, so we got some. Dad grabbed a bundle (architectural style, so 80 lbs/bundle), and struggled to put it on his shoulder to carry it up the ladder. After the shock of the sight of his struggle wore off, I told him to put it down, and I would hump the remaining bundles up the ladder, since I was a fairly in-shape 36 at the time. Ten years later now, due to my renewed dedication to fitness over the last 16 months, I would have an even easier time hauling those bundles up the ladder—I weigh a good 25 lbs more, mostly muscle.
Jason