Sixty turned so sexy this year.

For women, in particular, the ages from 60 to 80 are no longer a time to become invisible and move to the sidelines. This golden age has become the time to take center stage.

In 2013, women redefined which era of life can be our most powerful and most fulfilling. The same year that Miley Cyrus twerked her way into adulthood, Diana Nyad swam from Cuba to Florida.

Cyrus, now 21, could be a poster child for the long, harrowing "adultolesence" through which so many 20- and 30-somethings struggle to define themselves and transition into a grown-up life.

But Nyad, at 64, became a poster child for capturing dreams long deferred. And she was hardly the only woman this year who showed us what it means to hit your peak when people assume that peak is long behind you.

Janet Yellen, at 67, is set to become one of the world's most powerful people when the U.S. Senate approves her to chair the Federal Reserve System, the country's central bank and an influencer of the global economy. That sort of power and authority were long associated with men of a certain age, but all that's about to change.

Hillary Clinton could win the White House at 69, a year younger than when Ronald Reagan took over the presidency. In her four years as secretary of state, Clinton kept an indefatigable pace, traveling almost a million miles to 112 countries.

Senator Elizabeth Warren, 64, transformed from Harvard law professor to power broker leading the charge for change within the Democratic party.

And the gifted Alice Munro won the Nobel Prize in Literature this year as the "master of the contemporary short story" at the age of 82.

When a young athlete needs inspiration to power through a difficult challenge, let her imagine Nyad swimming for days in a face mask to protect her from poisonous jellyfish. When a frustrated young artist wonders if her work will ever be recognized, let her read the exquisite prose of Munro. When young activists despair of ever creating a better world, let them know that change and progress are not exclusive to any age.

There have always been role models rejecting the notion that vitality and worth are somehow tied to a number. Consider Meryl Streep, 64, widely considered one of the greatest actors of our time, and still a mere neophyte compared to 91-year-old Betty White. But in 2013, a critical mass of women drove home this point.

Given how much longer it takes to get a foothold in one's career in this economy, and how much longer people are waiting to get married and start having children, it makes sense that the height of accomplishment can now come long after what were once considered one's glory days.

We've shifted the entire life cycle by increasing our life expectancy, extending the period of fertility and launching from one career to the next. We expect to be working longer, so our full potential may well be realized sometime beyond 60. In a youth-obsessed culture, we are better served by turning our gaze forward, looking with anticipation at what may become our best time yet.

The best part of Nyad's story came after her feat of perseverance and strength.

In her 20s, she had denigrated and criticized the same swim in 1978 when it was completed for the first time ever by a 65-year-old Ohioan named Walter Poenisch. She called him a cheat for using fins and taking short boat breaks. Nyad would later face similar criticism from marathon swimmers for her own use of a protective face mask and bodysuit.

Nyad was quoted in the Miami Herald in 1978 before Poenisch's attempt: "A man who's 65 years old and very overweight is not going to swim for two days nonstop."

He proved her wrong. She recently said she regretted the words from the foolish days of her 20s.

Perhaps conquering summits in your 60s and beyond allows the added advantage of wisdom.

Brandi Kostal still had internal stitches a week and a half after giving birth via a complicated caesarean section in March, but she stopped taking her pain medication and dragged herself to her graduate-level classes to become a chiropractor.

If she missed more than 15 percent of her classes, her professors would fail her. They would fail her despite the fact that she says she had stayed in touch with them during her pregnancy and asked how she could make up any missed work following the birth of her daughter. Despite the fact that she emailed the dean of student services from her hospital bed hours before her surgery appealing for help in keeping up her academic record. Despite the fact that her doctor wrote her a letter saying she was a "high risk" patient and would be "incapacitated for recovery" for a little more than a month.

They would fail her -- despite the fact that it would be a violation of federal law.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears at Logan University, where Dean of Student Services James Paine responded to her email with: "Unfortunately, child birth is not currently listed as an event for which attendance is excused."

How baffling that an institution charged with creating future health care professionals would treat its own students' health issues with such disregard. It's difficult to figure out if the professors, deans and legal counsel involved in this case at Logan simply had a hard time understanding the laws governing them, or if they truly believe their students should attend class even if their water breaks and contractions begin.

"The law is really clear," Lara Kaufmann, senior counsel at the National Women's Law Center, said. "Women should not have to choose between getting an education and having a baby."

Kostal contacted the NWLC, which filed a discrimination complaint informing the school that it was violating Title IX, the federal law that prohibits sex discrimination in schools. Logan settled the case earlier this week by removing two failing grades from Kostal's transcript, allowing her to make up the missed work and reimbursing her for tuition she had paid while pregnant and recovering. It also promised to train its faculty about Title IX obligations.

Kaufmann said the agency has gotten an increasing number of similar complaints in the past five or six years, handling calls from students on a weekly basis who are penalized for getting pregnant and having a baby. In May, the advocacy group settled a similar case against the City University of New York on behalf of a pregnant student who had been told that if she went into labor and missed her finals, there would be no opportunity for her to make them up. She was advised to drop her classes.

Kostal says she was stunned when she received the email from the dean telling her she was out of luck.

"I was in unbelievable shock that in this day and age, this could actually occur. I was made to feel like I had done something wrong, and I was having a baby."

The Education Department for the Office of Civil Rights sent colleges a letter in June clarifying that Title IX meant "a school must excuse a student's absence because of pregnancy or childbirth for as long as the student's doctor deems the absences medically necessary." The student must be allowed to return to school at the same academic status as before the medical leave, the letter said.

Really. This had to be spelled out for professionals in higher education. In 2013.

Logan University general counsel Laura McLaughlin did not return calls for comment, but the university released a statement saying: "We are pleased to have resolved the disagreement with this student in a way that we believe will further enhance our policies and opportunities for Logan students. Our new policies and procedures will help us continue to meet evolving federal requirements."

This particular federal requirement hasn't evolved much in 40 years.

However reluctantly, it's good see Logan University finally has.

If a waitress accidentally spilled a glass of water on me during a meal, I imagine I'd be a little annoyed. Even if I knew it was a mistake, I might sigh with exasperation and likely let my impatience show in some way. Recently, I saw a teenager handle this situation in a remarkable way.

She was sitting with her sister and father at a sushi restaurant, and the server was placing water glasses on the table. One of the glasses was knocked over, and the water spilled on the girl's lap.

It was late on a Saturday afternoon, and the small restaurant was empty except their group and me and my daughter sitting across the way.

Of course, the waitress immediately began apologizing and tried to wipe the girl's pants. The young lady stood up, patted her self with some napkins and said: "Don't worry about it. It's water. It will dry." She went back to enjoying her lunch with her family. When the server came by later and asked how she was doing, the girl smiled and said, "It's pretty much dry now."

Varisa Tsau, 45, moved to the St. Louis area a year and a half ago from Thailand. She's been working as a waitress and speaks limited English. "I felt sorry she was so wet," Tsau told me later. She said that she appreciated that the girl was not angry. "She said sorry to me, too."

I approached the girl's table before leaving and told her that I had seen how graciously she treated the waitress and how impressed I was by her reaction. She giggled a little nervously, and thanked me.

It was the expression on her father's face that I immediately recognized. He looked very proud of his girl.

It took me back to a plane ride when my children were four and two years old. I had planned a different activity for every fifteen minutes of the two-and-a-half hour flight. The goal was to keep them quiet and in their seats, a challenge when flying solo with toddlers. I was exhausted by the time we landed. An older woman sitting behind me leaned forward and said: "Mom, you deserve a medal. I got tired just watching you."

She may as well have handed me a Nobel Prize. I was so appreciative of her words, and that kindness made an impression that has stayed with me ever since.

Beth Harpaz, an author who writes about parenting for the Associated Press, says whenever she sees parents with well-behaved children dining in a restaurant, she makes it a point to tell them: "You guys are great parents. When my kids were little we never had a peaceful meal, so I know how hard it is to do what you're doing."

"They're so pleased and so proud of their kids," she said. "I empathize deeply with the parents who are trying to make it work." And children benefit from overhearing the compliment, as well. It's positive reinforcement for everyone.

Harpaz remembers taking her two sons to Paris when they were 5 and 9 years old. Calamity ensured at every restaurant meal, from dropped silverware and spilled drinks to fights between the two. At their last meal, she devoted herself to making sure it went smoothly, refereeing any potential arguments, catching any falling objects before they hit the ground or table. "I was like a traffic cop. I wasn't even eating food, I was preventing disaster."

When it was over, the people sitting next to them commented on what wonderfully well-behaved children they had. She and her husband cracked up laughing because they knew the Herculean effort involved in that meal. "I was so happy that someone noticed," Harpaz said.

Too often, parents know the embarrassment and frustration of children misbehaving in public. Strangers can be quick to cast a judgmental eye at the mother of a child having a tantrum in a grocery store, losing it on a flight or in a restaurant. Some will chastise perfect strangers for what they perceive to be parenting failures. But on the occasions when the opposite happens, when someone unbound by friendship or familial ties notices and compliments our child's behavior, it can make a profound impact.