Never Leave the Playground: My Story of a Life in Motion

Introduction: The Real Fountain of Youth
Most people picture an old man in a rocking chair on the front porch. When I was younger, I admit I did too. Today, in my 80s, I can tell you that vision is wrong, wrong, wrong. I ought to be out in that front yard with the children, rolling around, playing catch, and climbing on things—which I still do.

People have this idea that aging is a prescription for slowing down, but I’ve found the opposite to be true. It’s when you slow down and quit moving that you truly grow old. My secret, the one I want to share with you, is what I call the real "Fountain of Youth." It’s a simple philosophy captured in four words: Never Leave the Playground. It’s a way of life that reminds me of a famous line from George Bernard Shaw: “We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.”

1. The Curious Escape Artist

My journey started early. From the moment I can remember anything, I was always curious. So curious, in fact, that I became something of an escape artist.

When I was three years old, my father, an attorney, built a fenced-in sandbox in the yard to keep me safe. He’d lift me up, place me inside with my toys, and go about his day. Twenty minutes later, he’d return to find the sandbox empty. I was gone, having figured out a way to explore the world beyond that fence.

A year later, at age four, my parents tried a new approach. They put me in a little dog harness and tethered me to the clothesline. Surely, that would keep me in the backyard. But within the hour, I’d be gone again, off to see what was over the next hill or around the bend in the river.

That curiosity was my engine, but it also led to my first big challenge. My father, with the best of intentions, tried to teach me the alphabet and basic math. To a little boy, the letters and numbers were totally abstract, and when he’d quiz me hours later, I couldn’t retrieve the answers. His cross-examination style, honed in the courtroom, filled me with such anxiety that I would sometimes wet my pants. I grew up with the deep-seated belief that I was a "dummy." It wasn't until my sister was born and took some of that focus off me that I truly felt I could breathe.

These early experiences—the pull of curiosity and the push of anxiety—shaped me. I learned that the world was a fascinating place, but I needed to explore and understand it on my own terms. That desire for self-directed discovery led me to a moment of pure, unfiltered inspiration.

2. The Day the Circus Came to Town

It was around 1949 in Sioux City, Iowa. I was eight years old, and the greatest show on earth, the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey circus, came to town on a long, magical train. My father took me to watch them set up the big top, a magnificent feat involving everyone from performers to elephants.

Later that afternoon, under that very same canvas, I saw things that would change my life. Three acts, in particular, captured my imagination:

A man juggling pins with effortless grace.
A performer gliding across the ring on a unicycle.
A daredevil named "Rolando the Great" walking a tightrope high above the crowd.

With each act, the same thought echoed in my eight-year-old mind: "I can do that." In a sideshow, I even saw a man throwing knives at a spinning target and thought, "I can do that, too."

That day, the circus taught me a profound lesson: incredible physical feats weren't magic. They were skills, and skills could be learned. I carried the magic of that circus with me for years, a quiet promise to my eight-year-old self. And while I built a life as a professional potter and a university professor, those seeds of possibility were just waiting for the right moment to bloom.

3. From Play to a Lifelong Philosophy

I spent many years as a professional potter and a university professor, a creative life that always felt like a form of play. But the circus seeds were still there, waiting. On my 30th birthday, my wife bought me a unicycle. We were living on an old dairy farm with a long, narrow barn walkway, about four feet wide with walls on both sides. It was the perfect training ground. I learned to ride that unicycle in 20 minutes.

That unicycle was just the start. I kept adding to my bag of tricks—winning over 80 gold medals in swimming competitions after I turned 65, taking up snowboarding, even throwing knives like the man I saw at the circus all those years ago. The point is, I just kept trying new things. For instance:

Tightrope walking at age 55
Snowboarding at age 60
Juggling clubs in my early 70s

For years, this was just my personal passion. Then, about a decade ago, I read a report from the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) with shocking statistics. It detailed how many people over 65 suffer debilitating or fatal injuries from falling. I thought, "Oh my god, I can help with that." My personal playground suddenly had a public purpose. I knew I had to share what I'd learned about balance, stability, and movement with the world.

4. How Play Rewires the Brain

People always talk about "exercise," which sounds like a chore you have to slog through. That's not what I'm about. I talk about "play"—the kind of fun that doesn't need willpower because it's driven by pure joy. That’s the real secret. My mantra is simple: Just keep moving.

Here’s the part that really lit a fire in me: when you learn new things that make your hands and feet think, you are actively enriching your brain. Scientists call it neurogenesis—the growth of new brain cells.

Let me tell you about a study I read out of Germany that just blew my mind. It proves what I’ve felt in my bones for years. Researchers took a group of people who had never juggled before and scanned their brains. Then, they scanned them again after they practiced juggling for 20 minutes a day for two months.

The results were astonishing. The people who practiced juggling, whether they became experts or were still dropping balls, showed significant new growth. Their brains lit up like a Christmas tree on the new scans! The control group, who didn't practice, showed no change at all.

The most amazing finding was that it's the act of trying that matters most, not perfection. This kind of play builds what I call "cognitive reserve." Think of it as creating redundancy in your brain—extra neural pathways that make your mind more resilient to injury and the effects of aging. I had no idea that my own cognitive reserve was about to face the ultimate test.

5. A Test of a Lifetime

On the first day of January 2019, I was riding my "one wheel," a self-balancing electric board, when something went wrong. I fell, and my unprotected head hit the asphalt at 20 miles per hour.

I was in a coma for three days. The injury was severe: a skull fracture and a massive brain bleed that, according to the scans, had pushed my brain dramatically over to one side. The doctors thought they might have to drill a hole in my skull to relieve the pressure.

But my recovery stunned them. Just 30 days later, I went for a follow-up. The brain surgeon looked at my scans, looked at me, and said, "I don't know what it is about you," before dismissing me. I had recovered completely. I hadn't lost a single one of my skills—not juggling, not tightrope walking, nothing.

I believe with every fiber of my being that my lifetime of play saved me. The cognitive reserve I had built, neuron by neuron, through decades of learning new, fun, and challenging things gave my brain the resilience it needed to heal. It was the ultimate, unintentional proof of my philosophy.

6. Your Invitation to the Playground

My story is not about being special; it’s about what’s possible for everyone. It is never too late to start playing and rewiring your brain. You don't need a unicycle or a tightrope to begin. You can start right now, today, with simple activities that will immediately improve your quality of life.

Here are three things you can do to get back on the playground:

Balance on One Foot — Every morning, I stand on one foot while stirring my breakfast in the kitchen. It’s a simple, powerful way to train your balance and focus every single day.
Use Your Non-Dominant Hand — Our brains thrive on novelty. The next time you stir a pot, brush your teeth, or even learn to use chopsticks, try it with your non-dominant hand. It’s a supercharged way to enrich your brain.
Learn Something New Every Year — Whether it’s snowboarding, juggling, or playing the piano, commit to learning one new physical skill each year. Remember the juggling study: it’s the act of trying that enriches the brain, not achieving perfection.

My mission is to help every human being on the planet improve their quality of life by returning to the playground. It’s where we train our bodies, sharpen our minds, and keep our spirits young.

Warmly,
Stephen Jepson