As whoever has the hill is immortal/eternally young/something along those lines (a reason why we are even bothering with this hill), you turn into an old man while I keep myself in check, so you're now an old man and I'm still fit as a fiddle. You facepalm once you realize I'm not aging for some ridiculous reason, and resolve to reclaim the hill (and you youth) in some different matter that doesn't involve waiting.

The hill is still mine, so...

MY HILL!!!