Honestly, there comes a moment, usually somewhere between buying your first pair of reading glasses and the unsolicited offer of a senior discount, when the world begins to quietly invite you to slow down.

I raise a finger to that concept.

My goal is to age gracefully without anyone noticing.

Thank goodness I have not needed reading glasses and I absolutely refuse to slow down.

Observing a certain age demographic in Florida I see them sitting more and expecting less.

Many have joined the walker brigade.

No disrespect to walkers. They serve an honorable purpose. I simply don’t believe membership should be automatic.

Aging gracefully, sanely, and with a pulse is not about pretending you are thirty. It is about refusing to disappear quietly into the background music of life. It is about choosing maintenance over resignation, curiosity over calcification, and motion over rust.

For me, swimming has become the great negotiator between body and soul. It is exercise without punishment. It strengthens without shouting. In the water, gravity loosens its grip, joints stop filing complaints, and the mind finally shuts up.

There is something ancient and corrective about moving through water—rhythmic, repetitive, forgiving.

You do not conquer the pool. You cooperate with it. Somehow, you come out taller.

Swimming doesn’t just keep the body functional. It keeps the ego in check. You are not fast. You are not winning. You are simply moving forward, breath by breath, length by length which, if we are honest, is the whole point.

And then there is wine.

Not the numbing kind. Not the pour until the evening disappears kind. The kind that enhances a meal, sharpens conversation, and reminds you that pleasure is still allowed. A glass that opens the food, not the floodgates. Enough to warm the edges of the moment, not blur its center.

Wine, like aging, is about balance. Too little and you miss the joy. Too much and you lose the plot.

Many are forgoing alcohol these days. I toast their choice. For me an occasional glass of fine wine can enhance the meal just like the perfect seasoning.

Aging well is not about deprivation. It’s about discernment. Knowing what sustains you versus what sedates you. Knowing when to push, when to float, when to sip, and when to stop.

I don’t want to rage against time. Time always wins. But I do intend to meet it upright, curious, moving under my own power, and still capable of pleasure. I want strong legs, a clear head, a fit body to be proud of and a life that feels inhabited not managed.

So no, I am not joining the walker brigade just yet. You will find me in the pool exercising in the early morning to stay fit, covered in SPF 50, donning a rash guard and enormous hat to stave off squamous cells.

Later that day, I will be at the table. Glass half full. Soul fully awake, aging gracefully, thankfully, with no aluminum support in sight.