Auntie Anne's pretzels founder Anne Beiler, 77, shares life lessons about aging and retirement

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Anne Beiler, 77, who lives in Texas. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

He’d become a counselor, providing free support to people in need of help. I wanted to support him, so in 1988, I opened a store at a farmer’s market, selling pretzels and lemonade.

Pivoting into public speaking has made me feel alive

I grew up in the Amish community and always saw myself as a little Amish girl. Then I became “Auntie Anne.” Announcing the sale of Auntie Anne’s was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life, and selling the company meant I had to change my mindset. My identity couldn’t be “the founder of Auntie Anne’s.”

I hadn’t thought too much about what I’d do once we sold the company, but my husband and I bought a farm in our area in Pennsylvania, and we wanted to develop it into a medical center and community center. It became our mission.

I realized I had more time to write and speak. Writing books helped me see that there is life beyond selling your company. At the moment, I probably do two or three speaking engagements per month. Whenever the phone rings, I want to say yes to telling my story.

At my age, if I’m not relevant, I don’t want to be out there as just another speaker. But when I tell my story, I feel alive.

One thing nobody told me about aging: Work feels harder

I thought retirement would be less busy, but I’m still very busy.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to make a difference. Now that I’m older, I can’t stop and do nothing. I don’t think it’s healthy for our bodies. I love going out into my town and seeing retired people working at grocery stores and doing things. We’ve been created to keep moving.

Since I turned 70, things that felt like a breeze to accomplish in my 50s and 60s, from working on the computer, writing a speech, or going out to speak, take a lot more mental energy to do now.

Everything I do seems bigger and more challenging. It’s important for me to live in reality, not in denial. People always say, 77 is just a number. It may be a number, but reality tells me it’s different to being 55 or 65.

I love gardening, quiet mornings, and the occasional motorcycle ride

When I get up, I love to go outdoors. I love the quietness of the morning. I enjoy walking around my house, humming a tune, talking to God, or listening to the birds.

Then, I go to my emails to check who I need to respond to. Sometimes it takes a few hours and sometimes, it takes no time at all.

Most days, my husband and I go out in the afternoons. Community is very important to us, so we love going to local restaurants and bars in Texas, where we moved roughly 12 years ago, to get to know people. I’ve met wonderful people, and I feel satisfied.

I don’t have any physical issues, and I love working outside doing gardening. During the Auntie Anne’s days, my husband and I both had motorcycles we’d use to go and visit our stores. Motorcycle trips were always a part of our lives, and we carried that into our retirement. My husband had to sell his roughly five years ago for health reasons. I still have mine and get out on it occasionally on a beautiful day. I’ve ridden motorcycles for 40 years, so I’d rather be on one than in a car.

In this season of our lives, it’s important to us to make sure we have everything in place for our children when we pass on. We talk about it quite often. We try to be healthy, avoiding processed foods and staying up to date with doctor’s appointments. We aren’t planning on going into a nursing home. Our daughter, who lives nearby, wants to take care of us with any outside help if needed.

I’m enjoying life’s finale

Life is like the seasons. Spring, in your childhood and adolescence, is a time to dream. Summer is a time to plant so your dream can be fulfilled. Fall is a time to harvest — for me, this was selling Auntie Anne’s and being able to step into a new chapter.

Winter is a time to enjoy. I love sitting on the couch and watching my husband sitting in his recliner. He’s not the young man, full of energy, that I married, but the person he is on the inside is still the person I love.

When you retire, you aren’t leaving yourself behind. You’re bringing yourself into a new place.

Make this season of your life count, because it’s the last season you have.

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