My nephew turned 19 last week while I was in the UK. I told him, “No present from me, mate. 18 was a landmark age, 19…meh.”

We talked about those important birthdays. My sister turned 50 while I was there too. 50 is now a “halfway!” age – either downhill all the way, or reaping the rewards of the first 50, depending on your viewpoint (and probably, your own age).

My own landmark birthdays have been segues to FutureMe versions. 18, adulthood; 25, ready to really take on the world; and then 35, for a peculiar reason.

When you complete a survey, often your gender and age are requested, so marketeers can determine the efficacy of their interaction with you.

35 is a turning point into the middle-aged cohort.

• Under 18
• 18-34
• 35-44

Hitting that milestone caused pause for thought. Middle age. Well, well, well. Seriousness, parenthood, mortgagehood.

And now, today, the next cohort welcomes me:

• 45-59

Late middle age. The last stop before Senior!

Of course, you’re only as old as the woman you feel, am I right?! Age ain’t nothin’ but a number. But am I really in that statistical cohort?

No.

The last several years, I have been going on a reverse metamorphosis. I am increasingly agile, my vital signs are very much alive! My child-like curiosity is back! I will pass my kids going in the opposite direction at this rate.

The last physical I had, 2 years ago, the kinesiologist said I had the lungs of a 37 year old. I’ll take it.

My neural plasticity? I would place a bet on 18-34.

Here’s to getting older and wiser, and younger and more future-ready, all at the same time!

Cheers.

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