If I knew then what I know now: Reflections over dirt

I spent a lot of time playing in the dirt this week. I went for a few muddy runs, and I spent three days doing yard work.

I put a truckload of topsoil down on the garden. I pulled weeds, tilled soil, planted flowers and seeds, and unloaded a few truckloads of mulch and spread it in the yard. At the end of each day my body ached, I smelled, and you could tell I had spent the day in the sun.

It was glorious.



As I was hoisting my shovel full of dirt and enjoying every minute of it, I kept thinking back to college. The question I asked myself was, "If I knew then what I know now, would I have taken the same path?" The answer is a resounding "No." At 18, I didn't know myself well enough to know what I wanted to do with my life. I'm not sure I even realized you could go to school to learn a trade that would keep you outside all day. I thought college meant that you study hard so you can get a good, 8 - 5 desk job with benefits and advancement potential. A career in the great outdoors never entered my mind.

I went back for my master's degree at 26. I chose a little better. I pursued journalism--and I do enjoy writing. But it wasn't until my 30s that I started to realize I was meant to be outside in a job that's physically demanding. That's not to say that I don't want to be mentally challenged in my career. I do--to some extent. But not to the point where I feel stressed--where the stresses of the day come out in my dreams at night (or in my lack of sleep at night).

In my 30s I met friends who made a career out of being naturalists, adventure guides, outdoor education specialists, bootcamp instructors, running coaches, photographers, etc. There's a whole world out there of careers that don't involve sitting behind a computer all day.

So finally, at 40 I'm headed in the right direction for me. I'm a fitness professional, freelance writer, scheduler for a magazine, gym manager, aerobics instructor--a little bit of everything (which is really good for my short attention span). And I have time to play in the dirt.

So if I knew then what I know now, would I take a different path? Yes. I wouldn't trade the friendships or the experiences I had in college for anything, but I would change my career path. I would have pursued a degree in exercise science or botany or landscape design.

I'm not sure what the solution is. College starts at 18 for most. And you have to pick some sort of career track. Some people seem to get it right. They are happily doing the careers they set out to do in college. But it just seems like such a young age to make that choice.

So I pose the question to you. Did you make the right choice back in college (or trade school, training, etc.)? Or if you could be 18 again, would you chose a different path?

Standing Room Only

When did it happen? I know it didn’t happen last night. Maybe I just noticed it last night, but I’m sure it’s been a gradual change. I got old. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a senior citizen yet, but I’m also not a young, hip adult anymore either.

Last night Mark and I went to see Tegan and Sara in concert. Tegan and Sara are an indie band starring identical twin sisters. The music is great—just my style. Mark introduced their music to me—and when he told me about the concert I pictured sitting at a table with a glass of wine listening to some nice, folksy music. I’m a morning person, so I typically don’t go to concerts—especially an hour away—during the week. But this seemed pretty mellow, so I thought, “Why not?”

When we arrived at the pavilion I realized the setting wasn’t quite what I had pictured. It was a fairly large pavilion—with no seats except for a balcony—and those seats were long gone. It was standing room only. By the end of the second opening band, I was in Hell. I had been standing a good part of the day because of a work event. My shoes were cute, but totally lacking any support. My heels hurt and back ached. Plus, I’m short. At 5’2” I couldn’t even see the stage. All I could see was the back of the person in front of me.

For awhile I took comfort on the edge of a bench I found along the wall. But after a few minutes, my tailbone was killing me from sitting on a hard surface! As I gazed around the room I watched all these hip youngsters with their stylish clothes and funky haircuts swaying to the music without a care in the world. That’s when it struck me—I’m old! I’m not a hip, 20-something, dressed in stylish clothes with a chic haircut. I’m 39-years-old, it’s past my bedtime, and I have a big event at work tomorrow that I need to be alert for.

When did this happen? When did I become an old fuddy-duddy who worries about work the next day? And what’s with all the aches and pains? I don’t want to be old yet. I want a hip haircut and a closet full of cool clothes. I want to sway to the music without a care in the world…don’t I?

Part of me does. Part of me was so envious of those young ladies. Part of me wanted to be back in college so I could do it all over again—maybe even do it a little differently—be a little more free.

Part of me doesn’t. I’ll be 40 this summer, and I’ve lived some pretty good adventures. I’ve run eight marathons, competed in numerous adventure races, and have experienced some adventures many would never dream of trying. I’ve lived in Washington, D.C. and California. I’ve owned my own company (not a profitable one, but mine nonetheless). And at 38 I met and married a wonderful man (it took me awhile—I’m very picky).

I’m a grown woman, and I’m not suppose to look like a girl anymore. And at 39, I still have a whole list of goals I plan to accomplish. When Tegan and Sara finally hit the stage, I managed to stand on my bench—despite the aches and pains—so I could see the stage and enjoy the music. I slept the whole way home and feel like road kill today. But that’s okay. My work event was a success, and all that’s on the agenda tonight is an easy run, then a glass of wine on the couch.