Turned 60 last August. I don't climb as far or as fast as I use to. I find I hunt closer to the road or trail to avoid a long drag. Had to come to grips with the thought I would never pack an elk out of the mountains. But hey, I am still out there doing what I can do. My 65 year old bird hunting buddy and I still traipse the mountains after grouse. We just don't start as early or stay as late as we did before, and it helps that the dog is as old as we are.
I went fishing last Thursday. Some how while putting a crappie on the stringer I managed to let my best rod and reel slip over the side of the boat. Depth finder said the water was six feet. I figured I could strip, dive down and find it. I got necked, eased over the side, where everything shrank up to the size of a pop bottle, and made my first dive. Man what a chore! I could only muster three attempts. It was just too hard. I managed to haul my honky white shinning butt back into the jon boat. I was pretty pissed at losing that rod but managed to snag it with a jigging spoon about an hour later. You have to learn to improvise.