Or, How a Single Question Rewrote My Map of Life
It was a beautiful afternoon at the playground near our home here in Parndorf. The familiar sounds of joy, the squeak of swings, the rumble of little feet on woodchips.
My little daughter was conquering the climbing frame when another child, with the unfiltered curiosity only a five-year-old possesses, pointed at my little one and asked me, head-on, “Are you her grandpa?”
Ouch.
But after the initial sting, that question became a spark. A single, powerful moment that forced me to realize I was on a completely different, more interesting, and far more urgent expedition than the usual.
The Standard Itinerary vs. My Unexpected Journey
We’re all handed a standard itinerary for life, aren’t we?
School, career, partner, kids in your late 20s or early 30s, and then a slow, comfortable coast into middle age – and mid-life crisis in an empty nest.
It’s a well-trodden path.
My path, probably like yours, has had its own unique twists.
Chief among them, recently, that I did after all become a father. The way things went with my wife and me, it took us a decade to – with luck – get into the right circumstances to have a family.
That contemporary trend towards late parenthood? I/we are an example of that, and the journey was not the easiest.
It’s a journey of incredible contrasts.
My daily commute starts before sunrise and often ends after sunset, a long corridor of time spent traveling between two worlds: my role as a teacher to a classroom of kids, and my role as a father to my own.
Without the work, I wouldn’t be in the right circumstances to have children, but of course the long hours mean that there are days I barely see my kids.
Then again, much as I love them, the days I am the primary caregiver so my wife can work and make money remind me that work (even as a teacher) is often more relaxed than being a parent.
Having become a parent has made me feel older, but also intensely, vibrantly younger.
Mine’s a life that doesn’t have room for a “midlife crisis” because it’s a life in a constant state of genesis. I’m not winding down; I’m booting up for the most important mission yet.
The Explorer’s Timetable: A Motivation Engine
That playground question brought a certain mathematical reality into sharp focus.
We all, on average, have our 4k weeks of life. That alone should be a good memento mori.
But then, I have to combine that with a calculus that’s very different from how you see life when you have kids at a more usual, younger, age when you don’t think about your mortality quite that much:
- When my kids start school, I’ll be cresting 50.
- When they graduate, I’ll be near today’s retirement age.
- To see my own grandchildren, assuming my daughters follow a similar timeline as my wife and me, I’ll need to be thriving well into my 80s.
This isn’t a countdown to an end. It’s a countdown to now.
It’s a powerful “why” that fuels every choice – or at least, that should do that.
This timetable transforms abstract concepts into urgent, personal quests.
The idea of ‘healthspan ‘ — not just living longer, but living healthier and more capably for longer — isn’t a trendy bio-hacking term for me. It’s the essential gear for this journey of discovery that is life.
It’s the difference between seeing the map and being able to travel it.
The Ultimate Microexploration: The Self
And this is where it all connects. This is where being an older father became the launchpad for my deepest microexploration yet.
How can I ensure I have the energy and vitality to be present for as much as possible my children’s journey?
The answer isn’t just to “hope for the best.” The answer is to explore.
This mission has turned my gaze inward, to the most immediate and fascinating landscape of all: my own biology.
It pushed me to understand my genetics, to track my biometrics, to learn what I truly need to function as well as possible, even with advancing age.
Every meal, every workout, every night of sleep could be a piece of data in the grand experiment of maximizing my own healthspan – and at the same time, I’m not going to get so obsessed with all of that data, all of myself, than I forget to enjoy life and be there with my children.
The exploration doesn’t, after all, stop there.
How can I inspire a love of learning in my children if I’m not actively, passionately learning myself? How would my children learn if I don’t show them my fascination with the world, and support them in their own life journeys of discovery?
Parenting is hard, but at least sometimes, I can see my child’s childish questions as jumping-off points for learning – both mine and hers.
I may just want to get the toddler ready for bed, and she will have to have intense negotiations about the animal on the diaper we’ll use – and at least sometimes, I will manage to see it as a micro-lesson in choice and expression.
That simple, innocent question on the playground didn’t just make me feel old. It gave me a new mission. It handed me a compass and pointed me toward a new True North: to learn, to see, and to explore every facet of this life, starting with myself, so I can be the best guide possible for the little explorers holding my hand.
This is the journey I’m on now. And I can’t wait to share what I’m discovering with you.
Now I turn it over to you, my fellow explorers: What unexpected moment or question in your life completely changed your map? What journey did it launch you on? Share your story in the comments below!
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