The New York Times opinion page has declared “an aging face is the new punk rock.”

God, that made me feel alive.

I’m not doing anti-aging. It’s an anti-feminist conspiracy. Once, in the supermarket checkout, my tween daughter asked me to explain. I crumpled up with pride that she would ask. I opened my mouth. TEN WORDS OR LESS, she bellowed. Sob.

In any case, women of a certain age are not supposed to look old. Everyone knows that. Which is why it’s punk rock to buck the trend. As for me, you could say I’ve been waiting my whole life for my Bride of Frankenstein era. My growing gray stripes underscore my personality, and they are perfect.

Let me introduce my exercise instructor. Hope is a woman in her seventies. She sold off one fitness business to start a smaller one focused on healthy aging. Most of Hope’s clients are her age, more or less. Not me.

I adore working out with older women. Each week, Hope kicks my whole ass. No, I don’t know how to do all these partially limbed planks with a straight back for that amount of time. And what for with the leg circles? I’ve been doing them for years and they’re still torture! It’s a blessing her classes are on Zoom and my camera is off. I couldn’t stand to be seen with my modifications and generalized panting.

Throughout class, Hope openly talks about aging and what we can do to keep ourselves strong. She acknowledges when she’s having a bad balance or memory day. Most inspiringly, a few years ago she took a significant fall, and bounced back quickly. For most women (or men) at her age, a major fall is a disaster, and the beginning of a steep decline. Instead, Hope kept teaching classes, acknowledging her limitations and pushing forward anyway. She’s fine now.

I don’t know how or why we ever bought into this idea that women (or anyone) shouldn’t get old. When I was running Grandma’s Marathon last summer, there was a 65-year-old woman running on her birthday. I looked at her and thought, I want to do that.

I can’t overstate how inoculating I have found the experience of working out with retired women to be. It is a contrast to my work life, where I am mainly around younger people. But working out with older women doesn’t really make me feel old, or, for that matter, young. It makes me feel alive in the present, and alive with the knowledge that you can openly age and also be strong.