I was 40 when I terraced the yard in our first house in Georgia with dry stacked stone set by my hands. I added a pond with a waterfall. It was quite striking and once again I found my lovely bride impressed with what I could build with my hands.
But it took longer than it would have, had I done it a decade before.
Now, in my early 50s, I find that I can do this:
Once again, I am impressed with what I can build with the sweat of my brow, a little smarts and planning, and my two hands*. But boy, howdy, I'm getting old for this. Now I understand why the military doesn't let guys my age enlist. I may have marksmanship skills better than some of the young pups they find these days, but I just can't keep up. I'd be a menace to the unit. Oh, bother.
* Alas, this pond doesn't have a Queen Amidala's torture chamber. Of course, the kids are going to college now, and have better things to do with their time (and my construction materials).