40
I turned 40 last week. I was pretty inconsolable, cried for hours the night before. Reminded me of the night before I was to be induced to have my third baby. I sat in a rocking chair and cried and wanted to hold on to each minute of having that sweet baby inside of me, I would not be pregnant again and I didn't like the idea of life changing on me. Those hours were sand through an hourglass and goddammit, I was not in the mood to turn 40.
I had a few people react on me. They told me that I have three kids who are funny as hell, way smarter than me and kind in a way that takes my breath away. That I am married to a man I love, who loves me back and who makes me laugh. Good stuff abounds. I just watched a special on tv of "People Born Different" (shut up, I was folding laundry) There was a woman born without a spine or lower body. She seemed super happy, her husband thought she was the coolest because she used a skate board to get around rather than a wheelchair. So yeah, I feel like shit admitting that I cried hot, bitter tears turning 40 when I not only have a spine but also legs and all my insides are in good working order as far as I know, but whatever, I cried.
Here's the thing - I've used up 40 of my allotment. My dad only had 15 more. 40 is a bunch behind me and in a weird way, it was a recognition of how great a gig I have right now, and how I felt like it was slipping through my fingers so quickly.
Last week I had to run on the treadmill yet again. I was at the gym and could see my five year old playing in the childcare area. He is so beautiful and I want to touch him, hug him whenever I see him. He'd run past the window and my breath would catch a little, hope he looked at me so I could wave and blow a kiss. I knew I'd hit my hundredth mile that day. So I kept an eye on the distance readout, kept on eye on the childcare window. I hit the hundredth, I looked up and saw my sweet boy. I had those two things at the same time and that felt full and rich and perfect.
My 40th turned out great. I kept my kids home to play with me, little gift to myself. I ran long and hard outside, my husband took the day off and they all treated me like a queen. I went to bed wishing I could have my 40th birthday all over again.
I ran my 129th mile today. I tickled my littlest and kissed his belly, I joked with my eldest and kept my pride in check that he is far more clever than I'll ever be. I dropped my girl off at a weekend sleepover, knowing she'd sleep in the t shirt she'd asked me to wear all day so it smelled like me. So many little bits of grace.
A couple of weeks ago, I took a look at the big picture and saw how many miles are in front of me. And that while 3 miles a day really isn't that big a deal, I forgot to truly factor in that I am not gonna want to run every day for the next year. I took in that I will need to work harder to bank extra miles so that I can take the breaks I need and actually train to get stronger and have greater endurance. I took my moment of thinking "Man, what a fucking slog THIS is gonna be" and then ran past it.
Every day, every mile, every child's backward glance leaves me richer, stronger. Cliche? So what. I'm 40, sentimentality comes with it.
I had a few people react on me. They told me that I have three kids who are funny as hell, way smarter than me and kind in a way that takes my breath away. That I am married to a man I love, who loves me back and who makes me laugh. Good stuff abounds. I just watched a special on tv of "People Born Different" (shut up, I was folding laundry) There was a woman born without a spine or lower body. She seemed super happy, her husband thought she was the coolest because she used a skate board to get around rather than a wheelchair. So yeah, I feel like shit admitting that I cried hot, bitter tears turning 40 when I not only have a spine but also legs and all my insides are in good working order as far as I know, but whatever, I cried.
Here's the thing - I've used up 40 of my allotment. My dad only had 15 more. 40 is a bunch behind me and in a weird way, it was a recognition of how great a gig I have right now, and how I felt like it was slipping through my fingers so quickly.
Last week I had to run on the treadmill yet again. I was at the gym and could see my five year old playing in the childcare area. He is so beautiful and I want to touch him, hug him whenever I see him. He'd run past the window and my breath would catch a little, hope he looked at me so I could wave and blow a kiss. I knew I'd hit my hundredth mile that day. So I kept an eye on the distance readout, kept on eye on the childcare window. I hit the hundredth, I looked up and saw my sweet boy. I had those two things at the same time and that felt full and rich and perfect.
My 40th turned out great. I kept my kids home to play with me, little gift to myself. I ran long and hard outside, my husband took the day off and they all treated me like a queen. I went to bed wishing I could have my 40th birthday all over again.
I ran my 129th mile today. I tickled my littlest and kissed his belly, I joked with my eldest and kept my pride in check that he is far more clever than I'll ever be. I dropped my girl off at a weekend sleepover, knowing she'd sleep in the t shirt she'd asked me to wear all day so it smelled like me. So many little bits of grace.
A couple of weeks ago, I took a look at the big picture and saw how many miles are in front of me. And that while 3 miles a day really isn't that big a deal, I forgot to truly factor in that I am not gonna want to run every day for the next year. I took in that I will need to work harder to bank extra miles so that I can take the breaks I need and actually train to get stronger and have greater endurance. I took my moment of thinking "Man, what a fucking slog THIS is gonna be" and then ran past it.
Every day, every mile, every child's backward glance leaves me richer, stronger. Cliche? So what. I'm 40, sentimentality comes with it.
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