For me birthdays are a form of athletics. I race past each goalpost determined to rack up as high a score as possible. I just turned 62, chortling with glee because now it is absolutely impossible for me to die at the age of 61. Now to find out if I can make it to 63! Each and every birthday is a milestone, a triumph, and a victory lap. I find myself feeling better and happier every July 25th. No sprinter I, but a long distance runner. The race goes on!

Besides, I recently decided to start counting from 50. Currently that makes me 12 years old, which fits in well with my second childhood. The way I see it, I won’t enter middle age until I celebrate my centenary. Oddly enough, that’s probably when I will transform into a sprinter…