"Youth is wasted on the young." ~ George Bernard Shaw

As I grow in years, I find some things that are better with age: fine wine, quality cheese, shade trees, classic cars. Do people belong in this category, too? Am I getting better with age?

I'm now well into my fifties and I have a fear that I've already peaked. It's all down hill from here. This is compounded by the fact that in my youth, I was not a brilliant person. I hoped my hidden talents were simply not yet discovered. So I braced for success later in life.

But according to research by economist David Galenson, there's still hope for me. He explored high achievers and found there is no evidence that great success is only the domain for the young. Older folks too have their place.

Galenson examined famous poets, painters, writers, filmmakers and discovered two groups who took different paths to success. One group was young, bold innovators who made dramatic leaps. The other was older, hard workers on a gradual and slow trajectory toward achievement. Both groups created outstanding work, they just had different timelines.

Examples included painters like the young Picasso, who did his best work in his early twenties, and the older Cezanne who excelled in his sixties. Filmmaker Orson Wells peaked at age 25 with "Citizen Kane" while Alfred Hitchcock did his best work between ages 54 and 61.

I think of the 20-year old, flame-throwing baseball pitcher whose 90 mph fast ball is untouchable. Then there's the old timer, late in his career who has to learn how to pitch and can't rely on brute strength. The older pitcher will have spent years practicing, learning an assortment of pitches, relying on his savvy to trick hitters.

The two pathways to success vary greatly. The youthful innovators conceive of brilliant ideas, thinking it through in their heads first, then they act. The idea matters the most, the rest is mere execution. They need no practice, they move forward with certainty and an air of confidence. Bold, brash, self-assured with egos.

The late bloomer experiments and lives a life of trial and error. Later in life they figure things out by doing first, then learning from their failures. They practice and are willing to keep experimenting until they get it right. Humility marks their work, a tenacious (or stubborn) work ethic to overcome obstacles.

The youthful prodigy often hit their peak early and face gradual decline. The old bloomer has a steady rise and peak near the end. They have a different type of passion, like sex versus love. One climaxes early, the other works to build long relationships.

I envied young writers who burst on the scene with a break from convention, often working with new, innovative abstract ideas. My style feels older, grounded in concrete images and simple language, certainly not part of the new wave of innovation.

The late bloomer changes with maturity, they combine experience and wisdom with a will to work and a new-found passion: In their old age they finally discovered what they may be great at. They apply themselves through a rigorous journey of hard work, a trial-and-error methodology, incremental and calculating. The pace is slow. Yet they continue, motivated by the pursuit.

The journey is what's important, not the end. (This contrasts the youthful innovator who wants to find, not merely search.)

Galenson concludes the older bloomer is not simply a late starter: They are late because they were not very good until late in their careers. They needed time to ferment. Only with age, time and maturity could they transform.