Thirty-seven is so old. I have a mortgage and health insurance. I've had a job that I loved and one that I hated (surprisingly being a lawyer was not the job I hated; ask me about technical writing sometime). My knees crackle on the stairs, and I drive a mini-van.
Just a short while ago, I couldn't run a mile. I couldn't run a block. A lot of Mondays, I woke with an aching back and instantly dreaded the days ahead. I would shuffle from office to copier to kitchen. Sometimes, I would undock my computer and work flat on my back from my office floor. In short, I hurt.
Just a short while ago, I couldn't swim 200 yards. When I was 16, I could swim 3,000 yards, per day, 5 days a week. When I was 36, I couldn't stay afloat for 200.
At 36, my back hurt. I couldn't chase my son across the yard much less down the block. Sleep was the holy grail. I lived on a diet of processed cereal appetizingly served from plastic baggies while I checked email or fought traffic. My pop (soda for some of you) intake overshadowed my water intake tenfold. My skin was rough, and my hair was falling out.
None of these things were obvious. I carried my extra inches well, coaxed some volume into my hair most days, and medicated with drugs intended for senior arthritis.
At 36, I was a mess--a mess that I had made, for the most part.
I decided to clean up.
I made some changes. The biggest change, of course, was leaving my firm. I'd like to say leaving was the one magical thing that changed my world. But realistically, that's just not true. The truth? I spent the last year making internal changes that affect what I project and produce in the external world. Those internal changes have made all (well, most of) the difference.
At 37, I can run 5 miles and more. I can swim 3,000 yards again. My list of medications sits at zero these days (except for the acne, because my face still thinks I'm 16). I live on a diet of whole foods (lower case), for the most part. Everything in moderation, because who doesn't love an Oreo cookie or five every now and again? I have a tea stash that would make the Queen envious, and my pop intake is far outweighed by water.
I wish I could say I had some magic pill or supplement that I could share (or sell). I wish I could tell you that the past year was super easy and passed without angst. It hasn't been easy. Some days, I want nothing more than to stay under the covers and watch "Kipper" with RJ and Gigi. Some days, I eat the whole bag of cookies and top it off with potato chips. I still hate the way my skin smells like Clorox for days after a swim, and all of these super-charged, super-happy runners left out the part about chafing.
Wheatgrass tastes like, well, grass, and I still hate broccoli. Last month, I threw out my back and nearly panicked. A year ago, I would have been down and out for weeks. Now? I took my muscle relaxers like a good girl and hobbled to yoga class simply to be reminded to breathe.
I thought I'd feel older at 37. I thought I'd be lining up for back surgery. I thought I'd spend my days bitter and exhausted. And then I thought, "I could be wrong. Let's see what a year can do."
I'm 37. It feels great to be 37! I celebrated 37 with my favorite people:
These two little persons are the reason I made some changes. Sometimes, RJ asks me, "Mommy, do you remember when you couldn't run with me?" More often, he asks, "Can I go on a run with you?"
It feels good.
This is my daddy. He loves me so much that he gave me his birthday, and now we get to celebrate together every year. I love him an awful lot too. (Hi Daddy! I love you!)
This is my mom. She loves me so much that when I turned 37, she baked me a cake and drove over an hour to bring it to me. I love her more than she could possibly ever know. (Hi Mom! I love you!)
This is my husband. He loves me so much that he tolerated my bad year. One day, he told me to stop calculating everything and "just run!" His advice worked, literally and figuratively, on a number of issues that I had. I love him too, but he'd get embarrassed if I shouted it publicly on the internet. (Hi Hubby! I love you!)
By the way, this is how we celebrate 37 at my house:
Crazy soccer skills.
And mad basketball skills.
So, I turned 37 just a while ago. It feels better than 36. I dig this trend, and I'm anxious to see what I can do with the next year.
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