The initial few years of retirement frequently present the biggest challenges. However, these years can also establish the foundation for your future decades both economically and mentally. Stephen Kreider Yoder, who has been an established editor at The Wall Street Journal, retired alongside his spouse, Karen Kreider Yoder, towards the end of 2022. In their ongoing Retirement Rookies column, which appears monthly, the 67-year-old duo shares insights into the various matters they encounter as newcomers to retirement life.
Steve
In July, as we cycled alongside the northern coast of Japan, a reader emailed us with a message that has stayed with us and sparked ongoing discussions.
We logged a lot of miles during the initial two years of our retirement by traveling extensively, but for the past six months, we decided to stay local for the very first time in our lives," shared Colleen, 64, from Washington State. "This period has turned out to be far more delightful than we anticipated.
Colleen’s comments resonated with us since Karen and I had been discussing, during our ride, if it might be appropriate to calm things down upon returning home by the end of summer. "Perhaps it will be time for a fresh start," I mentioned multiple times.
We've been gone for almost half of our time since I stopped working. Neither one of us regrets a single day, be it cycling across America, venturing into Algeria's vast Sahara Desert, or taking the train to visit Dad in Iowa. Our trip to Hokkaido Island in Japan surpassed all expectations as we cycled past quaint fishing towns, ascended winding mountain paths, and traversed fields reminiscent of my youth.
And with every kilometer covered this summer, we found ourselves longing even more to simply be back at home—not just as a respite from our travels.
We’ve returned and remain committed to staying. However, this means acknowledging that I haven’t cracked the code of being retired at home just yet. A major realization post-work has been recognizing how challenging it is for me to leave the sofa and discover activities to occupy the void left by my former career. Starting from scratch feels overwhelming.
For many years, my work dictated a significant part of my daily routine. Unanticipated tasks would constantly bombard me, necessitating innovative choices that frequently led to satisfying results. Looking back, the consistency of this barrage was quite addicting.
Travel can act like a potent drug. No matter whether I'm exploring an uncharted land or driving along the serpentine roads of the Appalachians, each trip inundates me with fresh challenges hourly. On these journeys, the path dictates which choices I have to make.
At home, the responsibility falls on me to seek out chores, which isn’t something I excel at. So, I tinker in the garage, mend items around the house, do some reading, join Karen for rides in the park—and then start poring over maps dreaming about my next adventure as though I require an escape from reality.
I'm envisioning my retirement as a time for fewer journeys, focusing more on establishing roots instead of constantly planning new excursions away. A key part of this shift involves accepting that it's perfectly fine to avoid traditional productivity; I should feel free to spend leisurely hours engrossed in reading, listening to music, or engaging in enjoyable hobbies right here at home.
I've got numerous role models. One acquaintance recently retired and promptly took up an engaging schedule involving gardening, playing pickleball, going bowling, and spending time with their grandchildren. Others have discovered part-time editing jobs that seem to offer both a sense of purpose and a pleasant daily routine.
What I particularly admire about Karen is how she has filled her days since retiring with fulfilling activities both at home and within the community, which significantly benefit others. While she looks forward to traveling, she also enjoys returning to her comfortable post-retirement lifestyle at home.
We've been attempting to welcome more individuals into our home since we have extra free time. Getting used to life at home also involves participating in local activities, as I realize now. As a result, I've started enrolling in additional volunteer opportunities and am thinking about taking on part-time employment—not primarily for the income, but to establish an external routine that gives me something to return to after finishing my shift. An old buddy who has retired works part-time in the bicycle section of a sporting goods store—this option seems quite appealing.
However, I could be hopeless. A few weeks ago, I discreetly placed an order for 12 maps outlining a bicycle trail through the American Northwest. These maps lie beneath my desk as I compose this, whispering enticingly to me.
Karen
Back home once more, back home once more, and there’s an abundance of activities for me to explore since my retirement.
Too much, sometimes.
During my initial week back from Japan, I sent emails to friends who lived close enough to walk to. This list eventually expanded to include 20 individuals, excluding any children.
“I’m ready to catch up with everyone,” I posted. “Interested in joining us for a bicycle trip to the seaside?...How about stopping by later today to relax on our front porch during the evening hours?” Right away, one of my buddies extended an invitation to attend a debate-watch session and someone else suggested organizing a community potluck dinner. My new neighbor joined me as we cycled down to the shore to enjoy watching the full moon together. When a friend planned to host a shrimp boil event, they borrowed my large cooking pot.
Unlike Steve, I don’t spend much time struggling to define my new position in life when we’re not on the move.
Staying at home is very soothing for me. I rise with the sun, brew some coffee, and wander about the house solo. I empty the dishwasher and enjoy reading the printed edition of the San Francisco Chronicle. Later, I tackle a couple of crossword puzzles and send the completed ones to my siblings via text.
Everything before sunrise or Steve.
Staying at home brings me great pleasure. I prepare dishes to enjoy with friends. I dry apples and grapes. I craft plum jam and quince butter. I also sew blankets and create patchwork quilts. There’s constantly something substantial underway—digitizing photographs, organizing documents, constructing sock monkeys, holding gatherings for my female support circle, as well as teaching an adult student.
My career previously dictated a significant part of my daily routine, just as it did for Steve. Now, in retirement, I have chosen my own occupation, which essentially functions as my new profession.
The issue I face: I frequently opt for "yes" too readily and commonly find myself constrained by the multitude of activities on my schedule, despite deriving pleasure from most of these tasks.
A possible approach: Jot down every task along with the estimated time needed for each one, making them appear more manageable. Complete the childhood fabric quilt project—20 hours. Organize childhood documents—8 hours. Compile photo albums for my three boys—15 hours prior to Christmas.
So, I committed to a personal agreement: use my mornings for tackling necessary chores such as paperwork, running errands, and completing those pesky tasks I usually put off. Afternoons would be reserved for activities I enjoy, including sewing, reading, cooking, and cycling.
Next come my selected recurring weekly events—the Tuesday morning meditation session via Zoom, followed by the Tuesday evening dinners where we also tie quilts, and thenWednesday mornings spent cycling to collect our community-supported agricultural produce. Once every four weeks, we celebrate Serendipity Day with Steve; this involves pulling an activity from a jar filled with slips of paper.
These scattered activities ensure routine and continuity throughout the week.
Whenever all my tasks start feeling overwhelming, I have a reliable way to recalibrate: traveling. If we're away for over a month, I pause these responsibilities—and return to them with fresh energy.
It will likely take until sometime next spring for me to require the next reset, which would be an ideal period to embark on another cross-country journey. With Steve having admitted to purchasing those Northern Tier bicycle maps, I've begun investigating campsite options along our planned path.
The Yoders reside in San Francisco. You can contact them at reports@wsj.com.