I’ve always been inclined to make the most of a day.

Give me a new city and I want to explore it. Another neighbourhood, another street, another experience before the day is over. I’ve always been curious about what’s around the next corner, and retirement has given me the freedom to find out.

What I still struggle with is letting a good day be enough.

In the first two weeks of our Australian trip, we walked nearly 100 kilometres through Sydney and Melbourne. Busy streets, crowded laneways, long queues and neighbourhood parks. There was plenty to see, but something unexpected began to stand out.

It was the people.

I noticed people waiting patiently, making room and sharing busy places with an ease that caught my attention. There seemed to be less of the impatience and friction I’m accustomed to seeing elsewhere.

I don’t know what worries those people carry or what challenges are waiting for them at home. I’m simply struck by the consideration they show in the moments we share.

Watching this, I find myself paying more attention to my own pace.

Even on vacation, I can find myself looking ahead. What’s around the next corner? What else should we see? Is there enough time to squeeze in one more experience?

It’s curiosity, certainly. But it’s also a habit. Somehow, the good things happening in front of me can become the starting point for planning the next good thing.

And lately, that habit has acquired a new sense of urgency.

I’m in my sixties, living a chapter I’ve spent years preparing for. I have the freedom to explore, the curiosity to keep learning and, thankfully, the health to enjoy both.

But I’m increasingly aware that the physical freedom I enjoy today isn’t guaranteed forever.

I’m not preoccupied with dying. I’m thinking about ageing and what may eventually become harder. Exploring a city on foot. Travelling somewhere unfamiliar. Saying yes to an adventure without wondering whether I’ll still have the energy or confidence to enjoy it.

The next decade matters enormously to me. I want it to be full of experiences, friendships, discovery, contribution and all the ordinary pleasures that make life worth living.

I’ve written about making the most of these years. I still believe that matters. I’m noticing how easily I turn it into pressure to fit more into every day.

The opportunity to do something becomes a feeling that I should.

There’s something almost cruel about allowing the fear of losing an experience to diminish the pleasure of having it.

I don’t want to do that.

I can look after my health, make sensible decisions and prepare for some of what lies ahead. But I can’t know what my seventies will bring. I may still be walking through unfamiliar cities all day. I may not.

What I don’t want is to spend the days I have now worrying about limitations I haven’t yet experienced.

Australia hasn’t changed my personality or eliminated my instinct to plan. I still want to explore the next neighbourhood, discover another restaurant and see what’s around the corner. I hope I never lose that curiosity.

I’m trying to notice when it starts to feel like an obligation.

When we finally sit down after hours of walking, I’d like to remember the streets we’ve wandered, the people we’ve passed and how fortunate I am to be experiencing all of it.

Not spend those moments mentally adding up everything we haven’t seen.

For now, I’d like to get better at letting this day be enough.

Jim O’Grady writes The Post Game, a newsletter about life in the GoGo years. He lives in White Rock, BC.