When we were young another lifetime ago, my husband used to chide me for my swift stride on our many hikes. Slow down, he would urge, walk at a more reasonable pace. I was impatient, I have always been impatient and that characteristic hasn't changed much with advancing age. I am too impetuous, too anxious to get things done, swiftly. At home that results in breakage of delicate objects and no end of body bruises from careening into immovable objects.

But with advancing age I'm no longer skipping up the stairs of our home as I once did, though I still manage to rush them, while gripping the banister for forward momentum. There's a mere month differential in age between us, and as it happens, I'm the elder by that month. I have slowed down, it takes more of an effort to do things, but I'm still aggressively efficient in doing whatever task I set for myself.

My husband is just as determined as I am, but he doesn't rush into things as I do, but deliberates and proceeds. Which doesn't stop him for succumbing to the all-too-human frailty of rushing things while they're in progress. Meaning that from time to time he lets down his guard when he should not, and in doing the mechanical physical things that men love to do, he comes away with his own, often far more serious wounds than I do.

We're in fairly good shape for a couple three years from approaching 80. And we continue to share our love of the outdoors. At the very least, we're committed to taking an hour, hour-and-a-half daily ramble through a ravine that sits appealingly in close proximity to our home. When we first introduced ourselves to this forested ravine we were 22 years younger and we moved at a good pace, the inclines, whether of ascent or descent then representing no challenge to our physical faculties.

Those faculties have since declined to an obvious degree. Not much for my husband, but certainly so for me. The youthful integrity of our physical capacity has answered to time's call. I no longer enjoy the physical endurance and strength to mount a speedy ascent of the kind that challenges us daily, so I must rest more frequently as we proceed, in pace with the tiredness that overwhelms me from time to time. To say that I miss my former robust state is a classic understatement. But I'm grateful that our daily excursions enjoying nature can continue because it's of great importance to us both.

When we first moved into our home on the street adjacent the ravine and ventured out onto its trails, we thought we'd discovered heaven. We no longer had to drive to the green spaces that delighted us. One of our own was found close at hand.

Now, however, it's my husband who patiently waits as we ascend hills on the trail, until I feel comfortable enough to proceed because my enthusiasm has outstripped my physical capability. While I puff for breath and rest, he stands calmly beside me, sometimes urging me to lean against him, sometimes hugging me for quiet comfort, always smiling encouragingly at me, and then we proceed until the next rest period I require to continue our daily circuit.