People often ask me why I’m so focused on fitness now, especially as I’ve got older. They usually assume it’s about staying in shape, or fighting ageing, or refusing to “slow down”.
The truth is far less glamorous. I’m training so I don’t need someone else to put my socks on.
That might sound flippant, but independence is the thing I care about most. Not being fast. Not being strong compared to someone else. Just being able to do the normal, everyday stuff without thinking about it.
The problem is, independence doesn’t disappear overnight. It leaks away. Quietly. You don’t notice it happening.
You stop carrying your shopping and start parking closer. You choose the lift instead of the stairs, not because you can’t use the stairs, but because it’s easier. You hesitate before getting up off the floor, just for a second, to work out how you’re going to do it.
None of those moments feel important. But stack them up over ten or twenty years and suddenly life gets smaller.
I call it the independence line. It’s not a scientific term, it’s just a way of describing the point where everyday tasks stop being automatic and start needing effort, planning, or help. Getting dressed. Carrying bags. Walking upstairs without sounding like you’ve just sprinted for a bus you were never going to catch anyway.
From what I’ve seen, once people cross that line, it’s very hard to come back, not because they don’t want to, but because their options shrink.
That’s really what the Longevity Games are about. They’re not a competition in the usual sense. They’re a check-in.
People turn up thinking they’re testing their fitness. What they’re actually doing is finding out where they are right now. Runners discover they’re great at running but fall apart when asked to lift or carry anything. Strong people realise they get out of breath far quicker than they expected.
I’ve seen people finish and say, “That was a wake-up call,” usually followed by, “I didn’t realise I’d let that slide.”
And that’s the point. Not judgement. Awareness.
If you never check in, you drift. And drifting is how people lose years without noticing.
I don’t train because I’m scared of getting older. I train because I want choices when I am older. I want to be able to carry my shopping, walk where I need to go, and get up off the floor without needing a plan.
If I can still do that, I’m winning….. and putting my own socks on.
