Why Going Over the Hill Is Not So Bad

A few years ago, I was sitting in a coffee shop with my friend Chris. We were lamenting the grey in our beards and swapping stories about our creaking bodies. We still felt young, but we looked old. We were entering that stage of life where our parents were slowing down, friends were fighting cancer, some successfully, some not, and where gratitude for our health had become a daily habit. Out of that conversation came a question, “What does it mean to be over the hill?”

We pictured life as a cartoon hill. In the first half, you’re climbing upwards. And because you’re heading upwards, all you see is blue sky. So the possibilities ahead of you seem endless: perhaps you’ll live in America; perhaps you’ll marry a Swede; perhaps you’ll be an astronaut.

Then one day you crest the hill. And without realising it, you’ve begun your descent. Now going downhill is not a problem. But thanks to your shift in your perspective, for the first time you see the bottom of the hill and you realise: this ride comes to an end!

Rather than being rattled by this idea, I’ve found it strangely reassuring. From the summit I can look back at the climb, at all the twists and turns, the detours I never expected, the stumbles and recoveries that shaped the path. Very little of it was predictable, shaped as much by luck, serendipity, and good fortune as by choice. Looking ahead, the view sharpens my sense of time: not infinite, but still mine to use. That awareness has given me two gifts. First, relief that I’ve survived the first half of the journey. And second, a conviction to spend the rest on what matters most: not ignoring my dreams, not working too much, saying what I think, cultivating friendships, and being happy.

For years, “over the hill” has been a punch line, a shorthand for decline. But I see it differently. Over the hill is not the beginning of the end. It is a vantage point, a place to look backward with gratitude and forward with intention.