Thursday Th(ink)s - March 12, 2026

Thursday—the best day for confessions, reflections, and truth-telling.

If you are in the Thursday of your life, it means you are living out the four score and one years

that are the American woman’s allotted time. A Canadian woman can expect four score and four.

Apparently the daughters of both lands are long-lived among the nations. Since I’m a dual

citizen, I’m hoping to go with the Canadian version. Only God knows—and He’s not telling.

All this to say: yesterday I had a striking revelation.

Aging changes everything. Everything.

We are hauling around a body that knows it’s going to die. It’s preparing for it. We can do our

part to slow the process, but eventually death wins. One hundred percent of the time.

Yesterday I did one of my BAG hikes—the kind that kicks your bum from start to finish. My

friend and I were dropped at the trailhead of a back-mountain canyon at 5:17 a.m. We crossed the creek (mid-calf high) and began the steady climb up the canyon.

We watched the sunrise and reflected that not every person our age sees the sun come up from

such a remote spot.

Yeah, we felt powerful.

But it was only 6:03 a.m.

We hiked a few more hours, then turned left and headed up toward the ridge. From there we

could see the marine layer gently blanketing our valley. We longed for it to drift up and bring us

at least a little breeze.

But nope.

It was hot.

We hiked ridge to ridge, saddle to saddle, and finally—at 5:28 p.m.—we hit the fog.

Ah. Relief.

Still hours to go.

We picked up our pace and started down the mountain.

But here’s the thing.

When you are older than you were, you can’t scurry anymore. It’s not safe. And if you are

scurrying down a mountain in the dark with only a headlamp to guide you…you could die.

I don’t want to die on the mountain.

Although my children have told me for years that if it happens, they’ll know I died happy. I think

it will most likely involve hurt. Not crazy about that plan.

Aging brings a carefulness that wasn’t there before.

Why?

Are we more careful because we can sense that the end is nearer and we’re holding it at bay for

as long as possible?

The hike ended at the river bottom, which I have crossed many, many times. But just to prove

that the California drought is truly over, old Mother Nature gave me a rushing river to cross—in

the dark—at 10:01 p.m., with water up to my belly button.

I was truly frightened.

Halfway across I took a tumble and braced myself against a rock sticking out of the current.

(Thank you, Jesus.) I slowed my breathing and gave myself a pep talk, reminding myself that my

phone was in my backpack and it absolutely could not get wet.

My friend held out her hand, and I finally climbed out on the other side, discovering that my

bootlace was untied. No wonder when my foot caught on that underwater rock pile, I nearly

continued the river hike sock-foot.

I’m not doing this hike again.

It’s too much, too hard, too…many things.

It was 23 miles (37 km), which for my history is actually a little short. But history is catching up

with me—and nudging me forward.

A new day is dawning.

Different ideas to explore.

And with that realization, I just finished booking tickets and hotel rooms in Portugal and Spain.

This fall my cousin and I—along with our long-suffering spouses—will hike the Camino to

celebrate our birthdays. This one will be our sixty-ninth.

We’re afraid to wait for seventy. By then we might only be mall-walking by then.

Best to hit the trail while the hiking shoes are still on.

Aging doesn’t mean slowing down.

It just means choosing better mountains.

Big Brains: Climb ev'ry mountain

Ford ev'ry stream

Follow ev'ry rainbow

'Til you find your dream. -Oscar Hammerstein II

Old Souls: "What are men to rocks and mountains?" -Jane Austen

The Ancient of Days: "'For the mountains may depart

and the hills be removed, but

my steadfast love shall not depart from you,

and my covenant of peace shall not

be removed,' says the Lord,

who has compassion on you."

-Isaiah 54:10

Norma Jean:
Aging doesn’t take away the adventure. It just teaches you which mountains are worth climbing."
The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years..." 
The Psalmist

Thursday Chat: Yesterday I hiked 23 miles across a mountain ridge, crossed a river in the dark, and had a small but honest conversation with my mortality. This morning I booked plane tickets to hike the Camino in Spain. Apparently Thursday wisdom means paying closer attention to where you place your feet.