She came home recently and found me in the garden. Upside down against the wall. Legs in the air.
“So this is what you call work? Being a child in the garden?”
She’s not wrong. I’m 40 years old and I’m learning to handstand.
I’ve been practising throughout the day, between work sessions. If I’m walking to make a coffee I’ll attempt three on the way. It’s slowly working — I’m confident I’ll have them fully dialled in soon. But her comment got me thinking.
Why can’t adults play? And when exactly did we forget how?
My five year old wakes up every single morning and the first words out of his mouth, every day without fail, are “Daddy can we play.”
Every. Day.
Kids laugh between 300 and 400 times a day. Adults? 12 to 15. And honestly I think that’s generous for a lot of people.
We trade play for productivity. Wonder for worry. Somewhere along the way the weight of it all, the bills, the responsibilities, just knowing what we know about the world, builds up. Year by year. And we forget to just enjoy it.
(Have you read my blog about making your 8 year old self proud? If not read it HERE. It ties into all of this.)
Here’s the thing nobody tells you about learning a handstand.
It forces you to be completely present. When I’m kicking up I’m thinking, are my hands in the right position, am I pushing through my shoulders, where are my legs, what’s my core doing. I cannot also be thinking about the 400 other things going on in my life at the same time. There’s no room.
That’s the gift.
Learning something that involves body and mind together becomes almost a form of meditation. Doing it throughout the day carves out periods of genuine presence where your mind is focused on now and only now. Not yesterday. Not next week. Now.
One of my favourite films is Kung Fu Panda. There’s a quote that says:
“Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift — that’s why they call it the present.”
I love that. Many of us live in the past or, like me, we’re constantly focused on the future, what’s next, what can I achieve, keep moving. But we forget the only thing we actually have. Now. The only thing we ever truly own is moments in time.
Training does that for you. Whether it’s calisthenics, running, lifting weights, anything, when you’re working hard it’s difficult to think about everything else. It gives you those moments. It’s hard to worry about next year when you’re trying not to fall on your head.
I read a lot. 250+ business books. But I’ve definitely fallen into a trap of thinking all learning has to drive me forward. More business strategy, more marketing, how to manage finances. Always in service of something.
What about learning something just because you fancy it?
My wife asked me last night, half joking, why are you learning to handstand, what are you going to do with it — start handstanding everywhere, show the kids up at the school gate?
There’s some truth in the question. But here’s my answer. I have absolutely no intention of letting my body get old and stale and losing what it’s capable of. That’s it. That’s the whole reason.
I’m often at soft play with my son. Whilst a lot of the other dads are stood outside scrolling their phones, I’m in there — crawling, rolling, jumping, going down the big slides and genuinely loving it as much as he does. Does that make me childish? Maybe. But if that bothers you I think you’ve missed the point.
Staying capable matters to me. I want to be capable of protecting my family, running towards danger if I need to, carrying my kids. Being the dad who carries all the luggage down the stairs at the airport without even thinking about using the escalator.
But capable isn’t just about safety. It’s about not letting your body hold you back from the things you want to do. Whether you’re 20, 30, 40, 50 or beyond.
After 35 it takes training. But isn’t that the point? Training to be a better, happier human.
Our kids develop at an alarming rate. The gap in my son between age 3, 4 and 5 has been huge. Yet as adults we rarely change year to year. Many people go decades with the same body — often one that’s getting worse — the same mind, the same opinions they’d die on a hill defending. Never open to challenge.
Why?
Chase the goal. Not the financial adult goal. The real one. The handstand, the marathon, the mountain, whatever it is for you. You’re not too old. The time hasn’t passed. You’re just undertrained. You’ve forgotten that part of yourself — but you can bring it back any time you choose.
I didn’t start running until I was 36. I wonder sometimes how much better I’d be if I’d started 10 years earlier. But I didn’t. So rather than use that as an excuse I just work twice as hard at 40 than anyone around me.
Would learning a handstand have been easier at 10? 100%. But I didn’t do it at 10. I can’t rewind time and neither can you. All we have is now.
My shoulders are more mobile than they’ve been in decades. I’m accessing different parts of my brain. I’m enjoying it — just like a child would — and I’m developing because of it.
Learn something new because it’s fun. Because you’ve always fancied being able to do it. That is a good enough reason.
Teach yourself to play again. Stop taking life so seriously.
As they say — none of us are making it out alive anyway.
Adult life is hard. The bills are real. The responsibilities are real. But those moments where you find your inner child before any of it matters, those are important.