Aging Boldly
Curated Resources
Podcasts
These are the voices that keep me company on forest walks, in the kitchen, in the next chapter.
Glossary of Terms
The essential vocabulary of vitality
I should probably start with a confession: I am not a wellness guru. I have never been an athlete. I have super short tendons in my legs and cannot for the life of me touch my toes without bending my knees. But I do read the health books, listen to the podcasts, and absorb the science. (Then I do about fifty percent of what I should to achieve the results I want.) So if you’re looking for someone who has it all figured out, I’m not that person.
Books and podcasts that have shaped how I think about the second half of life. Not a complete list. A starting one.
If you are not sure where to begin: read Next Level. Listen to one Mel Robbins episode with a guest you recognize. Walk into your next doctor’s appointment with three questions you didn’t have before. That is enough for now. The point is not to read everything. The point is to start hearing your body and the science around it as a conversation you are part of — not a verdict that has already been delivered.
I add to this list as I find things that change me. If you have read or heard something that belongs here, I would love to hear about it. — Shara
These are the voices that keep me company on forest walks, in the kitchen, in the next chapter.

Mel Robbins
Mel covers a wide range of topics; her episodes on women’s health, menopause, mindset, and aging well are highlights.

Steven Bartlett
Long-form interviews with experts in health and science, featuring standout episodes on women’s health and longevity.

Steven Bartlett & Dr. David Sinclair
A recent, accessible David Sinclair interview offers a clear introduction to his ideas without requiring the full book.

Selene Yeager (Feisty Menopause)
Yeager’s episodes provide approachable insights on menopause and health, perfect for busy listeners.

Dr. Mary Claire Haver
Haver provides practical guidance and expert advice on evolving menopause science and healthy aging.

Emma Grede & Bobbi Brown
Bobbi built a billion-dollar brand, was fired from it, and at 62, started anew with Jones Road.

Eleanor Mills
Hosted by Eleanor Mills, The Queenager redefines midlife for women over 45, celebrating reinvention and empowerment.
The essential vocabulary of vitality
Glimmer & Grit is a storytelling space dedicated to change, loss, and reinvention. I believe life’s hardest moments can evolve into our greatest contributions. This space offers reflection and community, not clinical advice. Please seek professional guidance for medical concerns.
+49 176 1300 6222
info@glimmerandgrit.org
Nürnberg, Germany


© 2025 Glimmer&Grit – All rights reserved


© 2025 Glimmer&Grit – All rights reserved
Glimmer & Grit is a storytelling space dedicated to change, loss, and reinvention. I believe life’s hardest moments can evolve into our greatest contributions. This space offers reflection and community, not clinical advice. Please seek professional guidance for medical concerns.
+49 176 1300 6222
info@glimmerandgrit.org
Nürnberg, Germany


© 2025 Glimmer&Grit – All rights reserved
About
Glimmer & Grit is a storytelling space dedicated to change, loss, and reinvention. I believe life’s hardest moments can evolve into our greatest contributions. This space offers reflection and community, not clinical advice. Please seek professional guidance for medical concerns.
+49 176 1300 6222
info@glimmerandgrit.org
Nürnberg, Germany


© 2025 Glimmer&Grit – All rights reserved
by Shara Ernst

My mom never learned how to swim, but could water-ski like a queen!
I should probably start with a confession: I am not a wellness guru. I have never been an athlete. I have super short tendons in my legs and cannot for the life of me touch my toes without bending my knees. But I do read the health books, listen to the podcasts, and absorb the science. (Then I do about fifty percent of what I should to achieve the results I want.) So if you’re looking for someone who has it all figured out, I’m not that person.
My mom and her five sisters taught me by glorious example that our inner light does not diminish with age. Throughout my memory, they have been dancing and giggling their way through life – learning trendy dance moves late into the night, teaching each other new songs and games, and laughing hysterically along the way.
As we all got older and I saw them only sporadically at the farm or my aunt’s timeshare in Florida, wrinkles and grey hair did nothing to stop those belly-laughts or tik tok dance moves — only warning not to laugh too hard, to avoid peeing your pants! Because of that, I’ve done Kegels all my life.
Today the sisters are all in their 80s. Yes, they have less energy. We lost the oldest sister a few years ago. My mom has dementia. But they remain positive and joyful, and that example of lifelong vitality is the experience I now choose to carry with me.
And yet — for most of my life, I also absorbed a different story. The one we were all handed by our doctors, our magazines, our culture: the second half is a slow tightening. Less energy. Less sharpness. Less of the woman you were. Make peace with it. Become invisible.
And we don’t have to.
We can own it, we can embrace it, and we can use our experience to lift each other up and become whatever we want.
The science of a long, independent healthspan is more reachable now than ever. We women have the knowledge to reinvent ourselves in the second half of life — to stay strong, stay sharp, stay curious, and stay active longer than any generation before us. Inconveniently, that knowledge is scattered across research papers, podcasts, and books that most people will never find. It’s buried under influencer noise and supplement marketing and the quiet, corrosive assumption that after a certain age, decline is inevitable.
It isn’t. Decline is not inevitable. Unfortunately, for some people, this knowledge has come too late.
I always had a strong intellectual relationship with my mother. Even though I left Nebraska at eighteen, we stayed deeply connected — by telephone, by annual visits, by the articles about politics I’d send her, by the books she’d recommend (Ayn Rand to Victor Hugo) and the music we shared. She still lives in the same house where she was born, on the farm where my dreams happen. For decades she was one of the sharpest, most intellectually curious people in my life.
In the last few years, she stopped answering my emails. When I’d send her a book, it was clear she hadn’t read it, even though she assured me she had. I felt hurt. I thought she’d lost interest in the passions we shared. I didn’t understand what was happening.
Hiding cognitive decline is common — people protect their dignity instinctively, and the people who love them don’t want to see the truth. A couple of years ago she was diagnosed with early signs of dementia, and now it’s obvious to most people. Thankfully, she remains positive, though she’s different from the woman who used to challenge my thinking.
For me, Mom’s decline is a slow burning grief. It is its own kind of awful — watching someone you love become someone slightly different, day by day, while she’s still right there in front of you.
My sister Mary bears the weight of this. She is the one who drives out to the farm, who endures mom’s delusions with loving patience, who handles the day-to-day of a life that is slowly folding in on itself. I provide financial and moral support from Germany, and I do not pretend that those are equivalent. The person on the ground, week after week, is carrying something I am not. I want to say that out loud, because one of the quiet costs of dementia is how invisible the caregiver becomes.
We have found unexpected support through an Instagram community of adult children caring for parents with cognitive decline. Strangers who understand. Experts who are kind. Don’t argue with their reality. Meet them where they are. Take care of yourself, too — it’s not selfish, it’s survival. That community has lifted a burden from us, and we feel less alone.
What I’ve found, in the years since Mom’s diagnosis, has changed how I think about my remaining years. The science of brain health and longevity is moving faster than most people realize, and much of what I’ve learned would have been dismissed as impossible a generation ago.
Our brains can grow at any age! That’s not motivational language — it’s neuroscience. Research shows that regularly doing things we’d rather avoid — hard workouts, difficult conversations, resisting temptation — actually strengthens the anterior midcingulate cortex, the region of the brain associated with willpower and resilience. The fascinating detail: if you love cold water, plunging into an ice bath won’t grow this part of your brain. But if it takes real will to get in there and stay, it will. The brain rewards us for doing hard things precisely because they’re hard. That’s not punishment. That’s design.
At fifty, my doctor suggested I take Hormone Replacement Therapy for menopausal symptoms. I didn’t walk into that decision easily. My generation inherited an antiquated fear based on a single study — the Women’s Health Initiative, published in 2002. It was halted early, written up in ways its own investigators later called sensationalized, and splashed across headlines alerting women that HRT caused breast cancer and heart disease. Overnight, women flushed their hormones down the toilet. Doctors stopped prescribing. And another generation of women was coerced into believing menopause was meant to be suffered and hormones were something to fear.
It turns out the study was deeply flawed. The women enrolled were on average sixty-three years old — more than a decade past average menopause age — and the hormones tested were synthetic, derived from the urine of pregnant horses. Newer research, using bioidentical hormones started in perimenopause or within ten years of menopause, tells a very different story. One analysis estimates that as many as ninety thousand American women died prematurely between 2002 and 2012 from conditions HRT might have prevented. Ninety thousand women. Because of a headline.
Today, for the right woman at the right time, HRT regulates hot flashes, protects bone density, supports cognitive sharpness, and may reduce the risk of dementia. It stabilizes mood, improves sleep, maintains vaginal and urinary health, and helps women keep the muscle mass that keeps them independent.
In my fifties, I leaned into intermittent fasting. It was popular, I’d always hated breakfast, and I loved how it made me feel. Then I crossed into my sixties, and the science had moved on — and so had I. What works at fifty does not necessarily work at sixty, and what works for men does not necessarily work for women. That second one is a sentence Dr. Stacy Sims, , has been saying for two decades: women are not small men. The research that built our cultural understanding of fasting, training, and recovery was done largely on men. We have been retrofitting their answers onto our bodies for years.
I eat a lot more protein. Active women in midlife and beyond need somewhere between 0.8 and 1 gram of protein per pound of body weight per day — roughly 1.8 to 2 grams per kilogram. For me, that’s a noticeable jump from where I used to be. Stacy Sims and Dr. Mary Claire Haver, the gynecologist behind The New Menopause, both make the case that women in our stage of life are chronically under-fueled on protein, and that the consequences are not cosmetic — they are structural. Without enough protein, we lose muscle. Without muscle, we lose bone. Without bone, we lose the independence that makes the second half of life worth fighting for. I cover my extra protein needs with what’s already in my kitchen: yogurt, cottage cheese, chia, the occasional protein powder. Nothing fancy.
I lift heavy. Not for hours — for minutes. This is the piece that surprised me most. I used to think aging well meant logging long walks and cardio sessions. The newer science says something different. Resistance training is what protects bone density, preserves muscle, and reduces the risk of falls — and the kind that works is heavy, brief, and consistent. Two 60 minute sessions a week, lifting weights that genuinely challenge me to failure, plus core and balance work that’s hard enough to be uncomfortable. Dr. Vonda Wright, an orthopedic surgeon who has spent her career on women’s musculoskeletal aging, puts it bluntly: the women in their seventies and eighties who are still moving confidently through the world built that body in their fifties and sixties. The chance of falling and breaking something — and of not recovering from it — drops dramatically when you have muscle to fall back on. Literally.
I take creatine. It used to be marketed exclusively to bodybuilders, and the cultural memory of those marketing photos is hard to shake. But the research on creatine for women in midlife is now genuinely strong. Combined with resistance training, creatine helps preserve bone density at the hip and femoral neck (the most fracture-prone places), supports lean muscle, and may even support cognitive function and mood. The catch is that the research is clearest when creatine is combined with lifting. Creatine alone, without resistance work, is much less impressive. So I do both.
What I’ve gained from this shift is hard to overstate. I move more lightly through my days. I trust my body in a way I didn’t in my fifties. I’m not chasing a smaller version of myself anymore — I’m building a stronger one.
At sixty (I’ll be 64 this summer) something clicked, and I honestly don’t care what other people think anymore — that is a real freedom! I dress how I want. I connect with who I want. I don’t go to all the parties or make small talk that I’m not interested in.
Living independently on our family farm into old age had been an earlier goal of mine. A vegetable garden and picking tomatoes still warm from the sun. Becoming friends with the cow, a sunset aficionado. Figuring out which bird has which chirp and deliciously watching the swallows’ magical dances in the sky. Designing a wild blooming garden instead of a trimmed yard and mowing constantly.
Writing!! An online book club! However, social connection is now understood to be one of the single biggest protective factors against cognitive decline. I shudder when I picture my mother on that beautiful, wide-open prairie, content in her solitude for all those years. She loved the quiet, but I’m not sure the quiet loved her back. I also need solitude, but now I don’t think I will choose to live out my years without a close community.
There’s something freeing about knowing this stuff. I feel more in control now than I ever have. I want to be pro-aging, not anti-aging. I keep my skin and body and brain as healthy as they can be so I can proudly own my age. For me, that means letting the evidence of a life well lived show — the wrinkles, the laugh lines, all earned. Some choices fall in the middle: I dye my hair, and many of my friends have chosen not to, and I respect that totally. Other women go further and have work done, and that’s their right too. There’s a difference between fighting time and making the most of it.
The point of understanding your health isn’t to optimize every waking minute — it’s to make informed choices and then enjoy your life without guilt. Have the extra piece of cake. Stay up dancing until three. Binge a series on the couch on a rainy Sunday. Everything in moderation, including moderation. We didn’t fight our way to the second half of life to spend it anxious about our step count.
There’s a piece of all this that doesn’t show up in any study, and yet I think it might be the most important piece of all: purpose.
What makes you tick. What makes you laugh until you cry. What gives you energy instead of taking it. What pulls you out of bed on a morning when you’d rather not get up. Some of us find it in work, some in caring for the people we love, some in a creative practice, some in a fight worth fighting. For me, it has been developing Glimmer & Grit — choosing, in this chapter of my life, to gather and share the stories of women who are becoming, and the bigger picture of sharing stories that connect all of us as humans.
Whatever it is for you, find it. Hold onto it. Build a life around it. Because the women I’ve watched age boldly all have one thing in common, and it isn’t a supplement or a workout. It’s that the sparkle never went out — because they kept feeding it.
Here’s the irony I love: the act of learning about brain health is itself good for your brain’s health. Every time we pick up a new subject, challenge an old assumption, or follow our curiosity into unfamiliar territory, we’re building new neural pathways. We’re growing.
The women in my life struggled silently without that knowledge. I want the women of today to be heard and have a place to turn for help and support. The women I want to reach aren’t looking to be lectured. They’re looking for a conversation, a helping hand — someone who will share what she’s found, admit what she’s still figuring out, and make the science feel accessible rather than intimidating.
My mother is losing her second half one quiet day at a time. I intend to make the most of mine, and I want to help you make the most of yours.


The science-backed core
If you read only one book on this list, make it this one. Sims is the exercise physiologist whose career-defining argument is that women are not small men — that the research underpinning fitness, nutrition, and recovery advice was largely conducted on male bodies, and women have been retrofitting those answers onto our own physiology for decades. Next Level is her playbook for active women in perimenopause and beyond: training, fueling, sleep, supplements, and the science underneath each. Practical, evidence-based, occasionally blunt. Her earlier book ROAR covers younger women; Next Level is the one for our chapter.
The science-backed core
Haver is the gynecologist who has, almost single-handedly, dragged menopause into mainstream medical conversation. The New Menopause is the practical, no-nonsense reference book your doctor might not have given you — covering symptoms, hormones, nutrition, exercise, and how to advocate for yourself in a system that still under-treats midlife women. Pair it with Next Level for the most complete picture.
The science-backed core
Mosconi is a neuroscientist at Weill Cornell whose research focuses specifically on how menopause changes the female brain — and what we can do about it. If your essay’s deepest fear is the one I share (cognitive decline, dementia, watching your mother lose her mind one quiet day at a time), this is the book to pick up. Female-physiology-specific, evidence-based, and gently hopeful.
The science-backed core
A different kind of book on this list — not a how-to, but an exploration. Mukherjee, the Pulitzer-winning oncologist who wrote The Emperor of All Maladies, traces what cells are, how they work together, and what cellular biology has taught us about disease, healing, and the future of medicine. Reading it changes how you understand your own body. Beautifully written, surprisingly accessible, and a reminder that the wonder of how we work is itself a reason to take care of the vessel.
Popular voices — with light caveats
Sinclair is a Harvard genetics professor whose book made aging research mainstream. Lifespan argues that aging is a disease that can be slowed — and possibly reversed — with interventions ranging from caloric restriction to specific molecules. Worth reading for the ideas it puts in front of you. Worth knowing that some of his more specific claims (particularly around resveratrol and certain supplement protocols) are contested in the broader longevity science community. Read it for the questions it raises, not the answers it sells.
Popular voices — with light caveats
Gundry’s foundational book — the one to start with if you only read one of his. He argues that plant compounds called lectins drive much of the inflammation behind modern chronic disease, and lays out a framework for eating around them. The book has reached millions of readers and many find his approach useful, particularly for gut and metabolic health. Worth knowing that his lectin theory is contested in mainstream nutrition science. Read it as one perspective among several, not as settled science.