EMMA RUNS. WHAT ABOUT YOU?

Throughout a lifetime, human beings form one of two relationships with time: we either surrender to it or negotiate with it. Most of us choose the former. We quietly flip calendar pages, accepting the body’s gradual heaviness as a natural law. Yet there are some who refuse to read biology as a fixed destiny; they see it as a draft—rewritable, negotiable. Emma Mazzenga belongs to this second group. Her story is not merely a sporting achievement; it is a quiet objection raised against the absoluteness of time.

This article does not chase the superficial question of “How can she run so fast at 90?”

The real question lies deeper:

When does a human being decide to age?

Is that decision made by the calendar, the cell, society—or by ourselves?

Emma Mazzenga’s body answers this question on the track. But the answer resonates far beyond muscle fibers; it echoes through mythology, philosophy, and humanity’s ancient longing for immortality. Because this is not a story about speed, but about resistance; not about youth, but continuity; not about records, but meaning.

And perhaps the most unsettling truth is this:

While Emma runs, we are the ones growing old.

On foggy mornings in Padua, in that twilight hour when time itself seems not yet awake, a woman tightens her shoelaces. Emma Mazzenga, the world record holder in the 200-meter sprint for women over 90, does not carry the fatigue of a ninety-two-year life on her shoulders—but rather the relentless energy of an atom. Her story is not limited to fast footsteps on a track; it is a modern epic written by human will against the merciless scythe of Chronos.

In mythology, Chronos—the embodiment of time—is a giant who devours his own children. He seeks to dissolve us within seconds, minutes, and years. Yet Emma confronts this ancient monster wearing a pair of running shoes. In the complex laboratories scientists call “trajectorage,” every sample taken from Emma’s muscle fibers whispers a biological rebellion. As professors examine the mitochondria in her cells with astonishment, they encounter energy factories comparable to those of a twenty-year-old. This shakes the rigid scientific doctrine that proclaims aging to be an inevitable decline.

In Emma’s body, biology transforms into a philosophy lesson:

Life is not merely the number of breaths we take, but the passion with which we spend them.

In her early twenties, Emma raced like the wind across university tracks—until life’s familiar gray curtain fell. Marriage, family, education, responsibility… For a full quarter of a century, she locked the fast girl inside her into a box labeled “memory.” But sometimes the soul must be left fallow. At fifty-three—an age when many begin dreaming of retirement—Emma kicked that box open.

This was not a phoenix rising from ashes, but a paused clock being reset. A half-finished song resuming at its highest note.

In her world, discipline is not a cold command—it is an aesthetic of living. The simple meat sandwich she eats at five in the morning, before the city has woken from its dreams, or the drink she enjoys in the evening, quietly reveals an ancient truth about life: balance. Emma is neither a slave to rigid diets nor a victim of indulgence. She walks the fine line Aristotle called the golden mean. She eats a modest portion of pasta at lunch, goes to the cinema, reads books, and engages with people. She knows that loneliness corrodes the human spirit like rust eats iron. That is why she remains connected—to society, to dialogue, to sharing.

When she runs 200 meters on the track, she leaves behind not only her competitors, but also her own past and society’s heavy shackles labeled “old age.” When scientists say she has the heart of someone in their fifties, Emma simply smiles. She has long understood that the heart is not merely a pump—it is a center of will. Her muscular architecture is not a genetic lottery win, but a sculpture patiently carved day by day.

Emma Mazzenga’s story teaches us this:

Time is not a road we walk upon—it is a river we swim in.

And in this river, rather than rowing against the current, it is possible to understand its rhythm and dance with it.

This ninety-two-year-old Italian wind proves that there is no final stop—only moments where we shift gears for new beginnings. As she walks the streets of Padua, she is, in fact, walking into the future—proclaiming to the world that aging is not a collapse, but can be a wise acceleration.

Source:

Mortensen, A. (2025, November 27). Age is just a number: How Emma Mazzenga is redefining athletic longevity at 92 years old. CNN Sports.