My husband and I met really young. We are high school sweethearts and he has been my best friend for over 15 years. During that time we always promised each other that we would age gracefully. What the heck that even meant, I have no idea. I think we were aiming at the beautiful ideal where you don't fight the aging process, you accept it as it comes and whamo, you are old people smiling at each other from your front porch rocking chairs.
We were young and so naive. I think part of aging is learning to fight it. The older I get, the more I find myself trying to prove that I am better than my age. I must remain invincible, untouched by wicked wrinkly fingers and gray hair. I found my first gray hair a few years ago, plucked the imposter immediately, and soon after found a few more. I have yet to break down and color the bastards, but one day I will. Until then I age gracefully, while my hair thins with a sturdy pull at each white strand.
On my 30th birthday my friends told me these would be my golden years. My thirties were supposed to stand for knowing who I was, not having small babies in the house, having a strong career path, and money finally in the pocket. Finally, I was old enough to enjoy the spoils of life, but not too old to feel burdened by pain and popping joints. That's why I feel betrayed by my defective hip.
For months now, I've embarked on a journey deep within my head. I'm soul searching in a last attempt of a quarter life crisis. If my body shows signs of aging, wearing away at the joints at just 30, what should I do with my remaining time? At first I thought I should hide in a corner and protect the precious moments I have left with my working limbs, but that's a waste. Why would I fix my broken pieces if I plan on letting them collect cobwebs?
My husband and I discussed moving somewhere new. Maybe a small town would do it for us. No more over-crowded suburbs. Our boys could grow up under the stars, climbing trees, riding bikes in the forest, and learning to kayak down mountain rivers. That sounds like a peaceful existence. Every morning, I could wake up to the rushing stream, hop in my canoe and enjoy the silence. Maybe I could run a couple days a week, but I wouldn't need it anymore. I could avoid further injuries by falling in love with my hollowed out tree trunk and a paddle. Better yet, I could finally become a cross country skier, and plow new paths on rolling hills.
Sadly, we need money and that lifestyle is not conducive to a paycheck. My husband has a very specialized skill set and I like food on the table and a roof over our heads.
Honestly, I don't know where this leaves me. I'm not invincible. It sucks, but someday I am going to get old. My right hip is "50% healthy," which isn't a great score when I plan to live another 60+ years. My left hip has the same condition as the right, but hasn't reared its ugly head yet. I've watched my mom struggle with arthritis for a good portion of her adult life and I always thought, "Man that is horrible. Good thing I won't have to deal with that." I assumed I got other genes or something. She was unlucky, while I knew I would remain untouched.
Instead of adjusting my life's trajectory, I am making small changes which I think are making me a better person. I completely jumped outside of my comfort zone and learned to swim. At first I was terrified of being judged by the lifeguards and natural swimmers, but throw on a swim cap and goggles and no one knows who I am. The safety of anonymity is exciting. I enjoy the water and monotony of laps. It is the same action over and over, lending itself to a beautiful repetition that creates a meditative state.
Now I live at the back of the pack. Walking with a group, I am always last as I can't keep up, but I have more time to observe my surroundings and for the first time in my life, I enjoy simply walking from one point to another. It is nice to not train for a race, the pressure of certain paces and distances are obliterated. My old calendar was organized from month-to-month from one race to the next. Now, I am looking forward to trick-or-treating with my boys this Halloween. Small goals don't have metals and praise, but I am learning to appreciate their merits.
Unexpectedly, I've improved through this process. I know I have a lot of great healthy years ahead of me and it is now that I must take the time to decide how to spend those precious moments. I took my body for granted, expecting it to age without much wear and tear. I thought I could pound out thousands of miles without consequence, but luckily I now see it is about balance and enjoying the effort. With a healthy and strong body I can challenge myself in ways I've never dreamed. I thought I was a runner. That was it, I ran. But I am not just a runner. I am a mother, a wife, a friend, a marathoner, a swimmer, a biker, a hiker, an adventure seeker.
~Roadburner
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