After all, I had friends that didn’t reach my new age. I take living life to the fullest as my obligation to their memories and to myself because I love to have a good time. Sounds good, doesn’t it? Let’s just take a look at the birthday week in review.

On Monday, August 8th, I went to the gym, lifted weights including working with Killer the Crunch Machine and felt pretty good about myself and my efforts as I entered the elevator. A traditional-aged student who appeared to be Indian entered the elevator just ahead of me.

“Oh, you have been working out?” she asked. Bless her heart; the poor thing seemed a bit surprised.

"Yes, I lift weights and ride bikes,” I answered.

“Working out is good when you are old,” were the next words out of her mouth. Well, I’ll tell you I nearly had heart palpitations! Old! The very idea! Let me assure you that I was careful not to grab my chest as people sometimes do when they’ve had a great shock.

Who knows? She might have had me packed in ice before the doors opened. They may do that to old people who die in the gym; I don’t know. My next thought was, you may never live long enough to know. What a pity. Yeah, it was just a thought.

Well, the week just got better by the day. On Wednesday, I renewed my driver’s license. The examiner was nice, and he and I had a laugh over the workout story.

“I notice that your hair color is listed as brown on this license,” he said. “You know . . .”

I could see where we were going, so I said, “Put what you think is right. I’m not dying my hair.”

My hair is between brown and gray, depending on which area of my scalp you ask. My license will last for eight years. If family genes hold, it’ll probably be white by then.

“I put bald for mine,” he said. “At least you’ve got hair.” He’s a delightful examiner at the Wendell office. I suspect he shaves part of his head just to have a well-rounded do, and I respect him for it.

Thursday, the 11th, was actually my birthday. I officially became 60. I figured what better place to go than to the gym? And I was rewarded for it. Two girls who appeared to be in their mid-twenties were using the machines across from me.

“You’ve got fabulous leg muscles,” one of the dear angels said. “How did you get them?”

“Lifting weights and riding bikes,” I answered, thrilled to my core.

Notice she didn’t say that I have fabulous leg muscles for an old person. May that be a lesson to elevator girl, who was on a treadmill about 15 feet away.

That night, my favorite cousin Janet and her husband Charles took me to the Angus Barn. Charles is a retired runner who now bicycles in long rides; you know the kind – 75 miles or more. He’s a little older than I am and can outlast most cyclists of any age.

What does this teach us, boys and girls? We 60-somethings eat well and exercise. Have mercy! Who’d have thought?

Saturday brought a fabulous party with family and friends who had a great time and enough sense not to bring over-the-hill cards. After checking to prevent a fashion faux pas, I settled on wearing leggings and a tunic. We’ve already established that I have the legs for it, and the night was magical.

As the party wound down and the week ended, I thought about it all. I love that we have stories to tell, dings and dents from getting into situations that might not be recommended but surely were fun, and those that we might not want to repeat. But we’ll never have to wonder what if . . . ?

So we return to elevator girl. I’ve considered taking Brian’s advice. You came to know him in the last article. It would go like this.

“Hi, dear. I didn’t introduce myself when we met in the elevator. My name’s Professor Old. Hope to see you in class.”

Bless her heart.