At some point in your life, 30 years in the future becomes a very different concept from what it used to be

For much of your life, when you look far into the future, it's almost always to a time when you're still likely to be relatively healthy and active.

Like, for example, when you're 20 years old and set goals 30 years down the line, you're thinking of the 50-year-old version of yourself. That may seem pretty old to you as a young adult, but those of us who have passed that age know that 50 is still a time when you have lots of energy to do the things you want to do.

Now, however, when I undertake that same mental exercise as a 55-year-old, it's a little different. In 30 years, if I'm still blessed to be around, I'll be 85.

Suddenly that 30-year projection takes on a whole different character. While it's true that age is just a number and you're only as old as you allow yourself to feel, 85 is still 85, no matter how you slice and dice it.

Unless you were around in early Bible times when people apparently lived well into the triple digits, 85 has always been a ripe old age for human beings.

Emphasis on "old."

Advances in medicine and the understanding of genetics are pushing the boundaries of our collective lifespans, but if you read the death notices in the newspaper, you can't help but notice that most people who pass away are still mostly in their 70s and 80s.

And so, as I undertake any sort of long-term planning, I do it now for the first time with the idea that I can only look so far ahead.

Barring acute illness or accident, I'm nowhere near the point of shuffling off this mortal coil, of course. But you do start to realize that we all have an expiration date. And it's coming sooner or later, no matter how hard we try and stave it off.

It's not like I'm constantly thinking about death. It's just occasional, though I imagine it gets a little more frequent as you get into your 60s, 70s and beyond.

I could very well still be kicking until I'm 100 or more. Can't say for sure. But any longer-range goals I set for myself these days tend to be within a shorter time window than they used to be.

Say, for example, "I want to still be living next Thursday."

That feels pretty manageable.

I read the obits now. Every day, in fact.

I've heard it said you know you're old when you start reading the death notices in the paper every day.

This assumes you read a paper, which I do but most people don't. And it assumes you're old enough to have friends and classmates passing away in significant numbers.

I am not yet of that age, but I do regularly spot the parents and grandparents of my peers on the obituary page. I'm also just generally fascinated with the lives people have led as summed up in those few paragraphs.

The creatively written obits are my favorites. Oftentimes these are inspirational and true celebrations of the person's life.

When I wrote my mom's obit last summer, I did it in a pretty straightforward way. In retrospect, I wonder if I should have put in a little more effort to let people know how incredible she was.

On the other hand, the people close to her already knew that, so maybe that's all that mattered.

I also read the death notices because, well, statistically speaking, I am probably on the downhill side of life. Very high up near the peak, hopefully, but still...I've likely lived more years already than I'm likely to live still.

So in the back of your mind are all of the things you want to make sure you do while you still can. I may have 40 or even 50 years still to do these things. Or I might have 5. Or I could have a single day.

You don't know in advance your own expiration date, and that's a good thing as long as you live your life in the most satisfying way possible, whatever that is for you.

So yeah, I read the obituaries. And no, I'm not 85 years old. Yet.

Sooner than I think, though, I will be.