As a senior citizen, I have given up many lifelong hobbies because I no longer have the physical agility, coordination, or mental sharpness to do them—or to enjoy them.

As a teenager, I used to play basketball all day long at my local playground. I haven’t touched a basketball in decades, and if I attempted to shoot a ball through a hoop it would be as futile as attempting a hole-in-one on a par three hole.

Jogging has been the one constant in my adult life, and I still make my usual rounds through the neighborhood with my loyal dog. In spring, when the sky is blue, the grass is green, and the roses are in bloom, I feel energized and renewed. When I get home and plop down on the sofa, all my joints may creak, and I may be out of breath, but nevertheless I feel like a young man.

My septuagenarian sister has long urged me to give up my daily jog around the neighborhood and walk at the mall instead. Mall walking is popular with seniors, and many malls open their doors one to three hours before the stores do to accommodate morning walkers.

Today I decided to give mall walking a try. I arrived at the shopping center at eight in the morning; the stores were shuttered, and many of the lights were still off. The place felt like the set of a post-apocalyptic horror film: older walkers shuffled past, their glaucoma-blurred eyes sliding right over me.

I was chilled to the bone. I am not as nimble as I used to be, and I wasn’t sure I could run away from them. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, and to my horror I discovered that I looked just like them.

Lesson learned: I will not go to the mall before it officially opens again. Tomorrow, I will be back to jogging around the block.