Strong at 60

People think I still work out all the time.

I get why. I've taught fitness on and off since the early '90s, and for years, working out was a big part of my life. But since COVID, I've slowly and unintentionally let my fitness slip away.

Not in a dramatic, unrecognizable kind of way. I've stayed thin, which made it easier to ignore what was actually happening.

I'm not very tall—5'2¾", to be exact. My husband, Todd, always teases me for being so precise and asks why I don't just round up to 5'3". My response: Because I'm not 5'3". That would be lying.

So yes, I may be unnecessarily exact about my height, but I'm also honest enough to admit that thin and fit are not the same thing.

At 59, I've lost a lot of muscle and definition. Aging hasn't helped. Neither have knee injuries, two shoulder surgeries, or years of inconsistent exercise. But if I'm being completely honest, I've also gotten lazy.

I can't tell you how many times I've packed workout clothes for a trip and never worn them. Or how many times I've gotten dressed to work out, sat down at my computer to do one thing first, and then barely stood up for hours.

My skin has lost a lot of its elasticity, and I can feel the difference in my joints, flexibility, balance, and strength.

Before COVID, I worked out—a lot. I could easily work out ten hours a week, and I was in the best shape of my life.

That was only six years ago.

Even during COVID, I was dancing by myself in my California apartment and posting it on TikTok just to keep my sanity.

Yes, really.

Why? Because the gyms were closed, and group fitness had always been my jam.

Without that structure, my workouts slowly became sporadic: once a week, then once a month, then sometimes as little as once a quarter.

Eventually, they pretty much stopped.

There were legitimate interruptions. Injuries and surgeries require recovery. But somewhere along the way, recovery time became no workouts at all. My birthday is coming in October, and I can't keep pretending that staying thin means I'm in shape.

I don't just want to look healthy at 60.

I want to be strong enough to live the life I'm planning.

I want to travel more and spend more time on the boat. That means being able to haul luggage, pull anchor, climb on and off the boat, keep my balance, and move quickly when I need to—sometimes in the rain.

I want to hike the Amalfi Coast with my husband without knee pain. I want to walk all day while traveling without my body deciding when I'm finished.

I want to keep up with a life I'm actively trying to make bigger, not smaller.

I have goals. Some may seem silly, but I have always wanted to hold a handstand away from the wall for at least 15 seconds—and come down gracefully because I choose to, not because I've lost my balance.

I still want to master the floating handstand. And call me crazy, but I want to do a split again.

Are any of those things required for healthy aging? Of course not.

I just like a challenge.

What I don't want is to spend the next chapter watching from the sidelines because my body can't keep pace with my plans.

So I recently started challenging myself publicly—which, in hindsight, is a very specific kind of pressure to sign up for.

The plan was to post a daily fitness challenge. Then life happened, as it does.

I haven't managed to record and post one every day. But missing a post isn't the same as abandoning the goal.

Working out on a 34-foot boat comes with its own built-in comedy. There is very little open floor space, the boat is often moving, and it still hasn't reorganized itself around my filming schedule.

Still, I brought my mat, yoga block, strength bands, and a notebook filled with foundational exercises for my knees, shoulders, back, hips, legs, and wrists. Even when I can't record a challenge, I can do the unglamorous work that will actually help me rebuild my strength.

That distinction matters.

Posting publicly gives me accountability, and it's fun—especially when I choose something that looks deceptively simple.

I watch someone else do it and think, Oh, I can do that.

Then reality sets in.

The original creators make these movements look seamless. My version usually requires stretching, practicing each part, trying it badly, and trying it again until I can do it decently enough to post.

But that process turns it into a great workout. I stretch more, push myself harder, and discover what my body can still do.

Yes, you may hear some cracking and popping—but no snapping. So far. 😂

Some challenges have shown me that I still have more in the tank than I thought. Others have shown me exactly where the real work begins.

Both give me useful information, whether I like the answer or not.

An imperfect posting streak could look like failure. But the streak was never the point.

Getting stronger is.

And that will require more than an occasional Instagram challenge. It will take a consistent routine that strengthens my knees and shoulders, rebuilds muscle, improves my flexibility, and prepares my body for the life I want to live.

The challenges make it fun. They give me something visible to work toward. But the real progress will happen during the boring, consistent, nobody-is-watching exercises that aren't interesting enough to become a reel.

For a long time, "someone who works out" wasn't just part of how I saw myself. It was 100 percent true. Then, gradually, my actual behavior stopped supporting it.

I'm closing that gap now. I'm not chasing my old body. I'm building the one I need for what comes next.

Strong at 60 isn't a number on the scale. It isn't a perfect handstand or a perfect posting streak.

It's whether my body can keep up with the life I'm planning.

I have two months until my 60th birthday, and I'd like to walk into it stronger than I am today.

But this isn't a finish line.

I plan on doing this well past 60.