Reflections at 40

I decided that a blog was in order today because it's my 40th birthday. And, certainly I have some profound thoughts on turning 40. Hmmmm...profound thoughts...profound thoughts....

Well, there's this: One year ago today (my 39th birthday) I was at my desk job and the heaviest and most out of shape I've been. (Relatively speaking, neither my weight nor my fitness level were atrocious, but for me, they weren't where I wanted them to be). I vowed that in one year I would be 40, fit and fabulous. I had 365 days to accomplish my goal--and I didn't do too bad. I'm fit for 40--and I'm trying to be okay with that. It's different than being fit at 25. 40-year-old women aren't suppose to be built like 25 year-old women. We're not girls anymore, we're women.

Fitness at 40 definitely isn't as easy as it was at 30! But I think you appreciate the small changes in your body more at 40 because you have to work so much harder to achieve them! Plus, you just don't sweat the small stuff so much. Remember back in high school when you'd be mortified because a big pimple popped out on your cheek? Now you just laugh at the fact that you're still getting pimples, along with gray hairs and wrinkles!

I made my passion my career (again). It will take a year or so for business to get where I want it to be, but luckily I have a wonderful, supportive husband who is willing to support my dream.

I have many, many cool friends (old and new) on Facebook, and a core group of really good friends that are my anchor in every day life. I think as a person ages, their core group becomes smaller--but that's okay. It's not like college when you had a list of friends you could call when you wanted to go out, but that core group is there for you through thick and thin. And I love and trust them dearly.

The older I get the drier I like my wine and the darker I like my coffee! And the more I realize I need to drink both in moderation--both for my health and because I don't like the cheap stuff anymore! Which leads right into: The older I get the more I care about what I put in my body. Ramen noodles and other boxed delights just don't cut it anymore. I try to eat as pure as possible.

As I get older I get more and more comfortable with who I am as a person. I don't worry so much about gaining approval from others. I am who I am! And I'm excited to see what comes next.

At 40 I still love adventure. I celebrated my 40th by taking a tree climbing class. And next weekend I'm participating in a 100-mile charity bike ride.

The older I get the more I love my pets. The love of a pet is pure and unconditional. There's just not an evil bone in their little bodies. I will never understand how someone could wish harm upon an animal. Losing my kitty, Bricklee, about a month ago was one of the biggest heartbreaks of my life. He was my friend and confidant for 18 years, and he will not be forgotten.

Turning 40 isn't so bad. Okay, so we bought an air mattress for our tent because over the years the ground has become so hard! And roller-coasters seem to jostle parts they never jostled before. That's okay because we still camp in our tent and we still hit the occasional amusement park. Age is just a number. Living life to its fullest is what counts.

A Small Taste of Glory

A runner? Yes. A fast runner? No. I've tried to be a fast runner. I've worked on becoming a fast runner. But even at my prime (prime age, prime weight, prime shape) I was about a 9.5 minute mile. And today I average about an 11 minute mile. I can do a lot of miles. I just can't do them fast.

A week or so ago Mark asked me if I wanted to try a track race that the local running club was hosting. You could sign up for the 1-mile, 2-mile or a 2-mile relay. He thought it would be fun to sign up for the relay. They randomly assign you to a 4-person team and each person runs two laps around the track. "It's just for fun," he says. "To see how well we can do."

I spent the winter doing sprints on the treadmill, so why not? It's just for fun.

Today was the day of the race. And for me, it was one of those days where I just felt tired all day long. By the time I got off work I was dreading the race. And I'll admit, I did my fair share of whining about it to Mark. "What if I get on a team of really good people and I just ruin it for them? They'll all hate me!" He repeats, "It's just for fun!"

When we got to the track I could see there were some serious runners there. If you've been around races you know the ones I'm talking about. They are the ones doing warm-ups that would wear me out before the race even begins.

The relay was the last event of the evening, so we spent a lot of time sitting around watching the shorter races. When they finally gathered everyone for the relay event, I started to get nervous. They started reading names off and assigning people to teams. "Please just give me a team of all slow people so we can just run our pace and not care about winning," I thought.

They read my name. I was on a team with a jr. high track kid, a high school track kid and a very fit looking 20-something woman. "Crap!" is what came to mind. The first thing the high school junior said was, "I want to win this." "Crap!" came to mind again. "What's your 800 meter time?" he asks the junior high kid. "About 2:15" He asks the woman the same question. She said when she was on the U.D. track team hers was about 2:30. Then he turned to me and before he could ask I say, "Um...I don't have an 800 meter time. I do distance. I'm just in this for the fun and experience. Which leg should the slowest person run?" "Third," he says. "You'll run the third leg."

The first runners went to the start line and the race began. As the lady doing the second leg took off I felt myself getting more nervous. I did not want to look like an almost 40 clod out there and disappoint my team. I ran out to grab the baton from my teammate and started running. Fast. Too fast. About three quarters of the way around the track my chest was hurting and I was sucking in air like crazy. I thought I was doomed. There was no way I was going to make the second lap. I was already out of steam. But I wasn't about to walk with my young teammates watching. So I slowed the pace a little and tried to catch my breath. "All I have to do is make it around this track one more time and I'm finished. I can live through one minute of anything," I thought to myself. And I did. My heart rate was way too high and I could feel vomit rising in my throat. But soon I was approaching my teammate with the baton. All I had to do was hand it off and I was finished.

I finished--and with an impressive time. Our team came in 4th, and I received my first ever running trophy. I have tons of medals for finishing races, but never one for placing (Okay, there was one medal for placing third in my age group, but it was a small race and there were only four people in my age group running).

So a race I dreaded turned out to be a great experience. Now we're even planning to do some running workouts at the high school track.

So the moral of the story? Well, there are a few:
Don't be afraid to try new things.
Quit worrying so much about what other people think.
Try to give yourself a little more credit.
And finally, quit whining and just do it!

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.