Clinton Rogers explains his fear of turning 70 next year

Not a disaster, far from it, but not great.

So I will be happy to wave it goodbye.

It was the year that prostate cancer delivered a trail of medical appointments (surgery followed by complications), indignities, and an intimate knowledge of hospital ceilings.

I’m fighting fit now (at least I think I am).

Yet I’m facing 2026 with a certain trepidation.

Because this is the year I will be 70.

Really, I hear you say!

The family want to celebrate.

I don’t.

Somehow, I feel that 70 is a number that used to belong to old uncles who smelled faintly of pipe tobacco and irrational opinions.

I read a birthday card once that said: “Old gets older the older you get.”

I understand that now.

When you’re 20 you think 40 is old, when you’re forty, 60 seems old.

And when you’re 70...

I’m not unfit.

But I could be fitter.

So should I start some form of organised exercise?

At 70?

I’ve never really been keen on that.

I once belonged to a gym and when people would ask me: “Is it working for you?”

I would say: “Oh yes, I’m losing 30 pounds every month!”

And what constitutes adequate exercise for a man of my age?

I read a book a few years ago (can’t remember the title), which essentially likened the human body to a car.

If you leave your car in the garage for months, then suddenly take it for a long run, the chances are it won’t function too well.

On the other hand, if you take it out every day and thrash it to its limits, it also won’t run too well in the end.

Clear similarities to the human body.

I know friends who were massively keen, bordering on obsessive, sportsmen for many years.

Their knees and hips aren’t too good now!

I did go for a quick run a couple of weeks ago.

In truth, it was only because I had parked my car (illegally, I know) on double yellow lines to run to a shop and buy something I needed quickly.

I was quite pleased with myself.

It was a good 500 metres, and I didn’t seem too breathless at the end.

But the next day I actually had pains in my shins!

And the following day my hips hurt.

Ibuprofen is marvellous.

So now I’m thinking regular speed walking.

Perhaps 20 minutes every day.

I thought of taking the dog, then I realised she’s a King Charles spaniel, and she doesn’t like walking.

Why is life so complicated?