“Wait, You’re How Old?”

There’s this thing that happens when you hit a certain age—or maybe even before, depending on who we’re talking to. It’s not universal, but it’s definitely frequent. We mention our age, or someone casually guesses it, or sees it, and we see a slight widening of their eyes, the polite pause before they say, “Wow! You look great for…”—fill in the blank.

And then, as if on cue, they adjust how they treat you. Suddenly, we’re either too old for something (“Oh, you probably don’t know about this app”) or too young to have an opinion on a topic they consider weighty (“You’ll understand when you’re older”). The pendulum of assumptions swings wildly, like age is some sort of universal cheat sheet for who we are, what we know, and how we’ll behave.

I’ve recently moved back to my hometown and wanted to continue something that I love doing, and that’s personal training. I’ve had the good fortune of being able to train with all abilities, ages including adaptive training, athletes, celebrities, veterans, rockstars, marathoners, etc. I lined up a meeting with the owner of a boutique gym that I was interested in training at – it looked like a good fit – and he was fabulous. He brought me on immediately. I met with his club manager at one of his gyms to get set up.  He was pleasant enough. I asked if he could show me how to use the computerized assessment machine as I would need it to assess my clients. As I was going through the steps as if I were being assessed I needed to add my age. Just as soon as I did, he said, “wow, you’re [insert age]?” After that we reviewed my results. He repeatedly said that my results were fantastic for my age. And I froze. I didn’t remark on why he was making assumptions based on my age, or ask him why he had preconceived biases around age, because I’m sure he was thinking that I looked good for my age – and yet there lies the problem – “for my age.” And after that, I felt a shift. And it wasn’t in my imagination – it was a shift.

And it goes both ways. Younger people get pigeonholed too. “Oh, you’re in your twenties? You probably don’t care about saving money yet.” “What would you know about relationships? You haven’t lived enough.” These snap judgments limit what we think we can learn from each other.

So, how do we change this? How about we start with curiosity. Instead of using someone’s age as a shortcut for understanding them, try asking questions. “What’s your take on that?” is a much better opener than, “You probably don’t know about this.” Let people tell you who they are instead of assuming you already know. Embrace the Surprise. Here’s a wild idea, what if we loved being wrong about someone’s age? Instead of going, “Oh, you don’t look 50!” what if we said, “Wow, that’s so cool—what’s been your secret to keeping your energy alive?” Or maybe, “What’s something your age has taught you that you didn’t know at 20?” Check Your Own Biases. It’s easy to roll our eyes at someone else’s assumptions while completely ignoring our own. Pay attention to the mental shortcuts you take when meeting someone. Catch yourself the next time you think, “They’re probably too young/old for that,” and let them surprise you instead. Find Common Ground. Instead of focusing on what separates us by age, look for what connects us as people. We’ve all had moments of heartbreak, joy, fear, and triumph. Age may color those experiences, but it doesn’t define them.

The truth is, assumptions about age are usually about fear—fear of getting older, fear of missing out, fear of not being enough. But when we let go of those fears, we open the door to richer, more authentic relationships.

So, the next time someone brings up your age, instead of you perhaps cringing, let’s take it as a chance to rewrite the narrative. “Yep, I’m [insert age], and guess what? I’m just getting started.”

And if someone misjudges you based on your age, let them. Then blow their assumptions out of the water.

There’s no better way than that then to prove that age really is just a number. And in fact, why do we need to prove anything? There lies the real question.