Okay, so I'm only 42. (Hush, ya young whippersnappers, or I'll whack you with my cane.) But the lower paragraph resonates. I walk in the woods more now, not less. I am more restless. The old paths, old ways do seem too well trodden. I look around my surroundings and think, There Must Be More. I hum the U2 song "But I still haven't found what I'm looking for."
My sister says I'm having my second childhood. Then she corrects herself, and says, "Third? Fourth??"
I'm much more likely to stop somewhere and explore.
Worse (or so some think) I am hanging around with tweenagers. And some teenagers, too. I am playing music twenty years younger than I am, but somehow feeling way older than I look.
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' So it went on, until his forties were running out, and his fiftieth birthday was drawing near: fifty was a number that he felt was somehow significant (or ominous); it was at any rate at that age that adventure had suddenly befallen Bilbo. Frodo began to feel restless, and the old paths seemed too well-trodden.... He took to wandering further afield and more often by himself; and Merry and his other friends watched him anxiously.
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No, I think Tolkien liked older explorers. Strider might have had a triple-lifespan; but that doesn't make his 87 years "young". Gandalf was no spring chicken. Boromir and Faramir at 40 and 35, respectively, weren't young soldiers either. Everywhere the grandeur of maturity looks on the enthusiasm of youth, and smiles; Pippin holds his own in the adventure, but it takes him a while to shine and stand on his own.
All that muttering to conclude: fifty was significant to Tolkien, or at least maturity was significant and 50 was a handy place to peg it for hobbitry. His man-hero was 87. His wizard was conveniently ageless, but always portrayed as old. I'm with you, Sharon; Tolkien liked older heroes.