Redefinition
A couple Saturdays ago, I ran five miles and skated a half marathon (13 miles). I'm forty-two years old. When I turned forty, I was determined to redefine what it means to be forty. At the time I was in ok shape, but most of that came from tennis and a physically active job. Then I moved to Austin and sunk into the fitness doldrums. I turned forty-one and felt like I was in the worst shape of my adult life. I wasn't working out and I felt fat. I'd done nothing to redefine a decade. I was disappointed in myself, just not disappointed enough to get my ass moving.
Then one day I went to the gym. Another day, I ran. Another day, I skated. Another day, I biked. Then I did it all over again. Miraculously, my body changed. My muscle tone and endurance improved. What was once flabby wasn't and what used to make my lungs feel like they were bleeding didn't. I don't think it's what I did as much as the fact that I did it over and over again. When I was a personal trainer, I used to tell my clients to find something they liked to do and do it. Above everything, I preached consistency. So that's what I did - I found something I liked to do and I did it consistently. In addition, I started eating healthier and drinking less.
Somewhere along the way, I started seeing the woman I used to be. Once upon a time, I was dedicated and I believed in myself. I trained and raced and trained and raced. More often than not I was the fittest person in the room and the only one who'd run ten miles before breakfast. Back then, I was crazy with anorexia and did what I did to stay thin. Some still say I'm crazy, but I feel sane, saner than I've been in a long time. These days I see my gifts and I celebrate them. I'm forty-two years old and I can out-run, out-skate, out-bike, and out-endure women half my age. I'm not ashamed to say that I'm in awe of myself.
Friends my age complain a lot about feeling older. I tell them I'm too busy planning my next race to worry about how old I feel. I hate to tell them, but I feel younger than I have in years. I'm excited about my untapped potential. I feel good - confident and ready to see just how fit I can be this go-round. At this point, the sky's the limit. Truly, I won't know what I can do unless I try, so I'm going to keep trying and keep pushing myself. What's the worst that happens? I fail? Been there, done that. I'm not afraid. I don't see an alternative. Sit on the sidelines and watch the disappointments pile up? Hell no. I have a decade to re-define, races to run, and a light to shine. 'I'm on my way running. Ahead of me lies the edge of the world...'
Then one day I went to the gym. Another day, I ran. Another day, I skated. Another day, I biked. Then I did it all over again. Miraculously, my body changed. My muscle tone and endurance improved. What was once flabby wasn't and what used to make my lungs feel like they were bleeding didn't. I don't think it's what I did as much as the fact that I did it over and over again. When I was a personal trainer, I used to tell my clients to find something they liked to do and do it. Above everything, I preached consistency. So that's what I did - I found something I liked to do and I did it consistently. In addition, I started eating healthier and drinking less.
Somewhere along the way, I started seeing the woman I used to be. Once upon a time, I was dedicated and I believed in myself. I trained and raced and trained and raced. More often than not I was the fittest person in the room and the only one who'd run ten miles before breakfast. Back then, I was crazy with anorexia and did what I did to stay thin. Some still say I'm crazy, but I feel sane, saner than I've been in a long time. These days I see my gifts and I celebrate them. I'm forty-two years old and I can out-run, out-skate, out-bike, and out-endure women half my age. I'm not ashamed to say that I'm in awe of myself.
Friends my age complain a lot about feeling older. I tell them I'm too busy planning my next race to worry about how old I feel. I hate to tell them, but I feel younger than I have in years. I'm excited about my untapped potential. I feel good - confident and ready to see just how fit I can be this go-round. At this point, the sky's the limit. Truly, I won't know what I can do unless I try, so I'm going to keep trying and keep pushing myself. What's the worst that happens? I fail? Been there, done that. I'm not afraid. I don't see an alternative. Sit on the sidelines and watch the disappointments pile up? Hell no. I have a decade to re-define, races to run, and a light to shine. 'I'm on my way running. Ahead of me lies the edge of the world...'
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