Stuff I used to do is harder now. And it always takes me by surprise.
Like, I had to move some furniture recently. I'm small, so I'm not going to pretend it was ever *easy* to move, say, a 5' tall chest of drawers across the room. But now it's a major ordeal.
I am currently painting my mom's condo so we can sell it. I did the bathrooms yesterday and it darn near killed me (slight exaggeration, OK). I'm only able to function today thanks to a huge dose of Tylenol. Come on, painting a room? That's easy!
I guess this is more a function of being out of shape than getting old, but it seems like the two just go together.
I still look in the mirror and for a split-second wonder who the hell that is.
Mortality does bother me, of course; but people die at any age, unexpectedly. a 20 year old can get cancer, a 35 year old can have a heart attack. My dad lived to 64, my mom was 74, and my grandma that always seemed to be in such poor health was 93. It seems kind of arbitrary.