Thoughts While Running #006
welcome to the master's division.
After much procrastination, paralyzed by the unpredictability of November weather in SF and a heavy dose of decision fatigue, I finally sent out invitations for Dougie’s 2nd birthday party. It feels like it has either been 3 weeks or 13 years since he was born as these last 2 years have simultaneously been the fastest and the slowest of my life. There’s a saying that describes parenting as ‘the days are long but the years are short’ (at least I’m assuming it’s supposed to describe parenting as everyone kept saying it to us at his 1st birthday party last year). It’s incredibly accurate in so many of my days are filled with a monotony of sorts, scheduled around meals and naps and any ‘spontaneous’ trips to break up the monotony take less than spontaneous levels of preparation, snack packing and ‘cool car’ (favorite toy) sequestering.
Early on in our dating relationship my husband and I were casually lying on a beach in Hawaii (as one does when one doesn’t have kids) when he asked me how many kids I wanted (apparently as one does while lying on a beach in Hawaii early on in a relationship). We’d only been dating for 8 or 9 months and hadn’t yet had the ‘kid talk.’ We also hadn’t had the ‘moving in talk’ or the ‘marriage talk’ (ironic as we were in Hawaii at the time for a wedding) but in that moment, he had decided ‘kids’ was the awkward conversation topic he wished to throw at a very unsuspecting me as I was relaxing in the sun, on a beach in Hawaii. I paused for a minute so I could recover and replied ‘I think I’m at the age where the appropriate question is not how many, but if I want to have kids.’ I also told him if I were to have kids (although I preferred ‘kid’ as in singular) my cut off was 40.
I was 34 at the time and in the US any pregnant woman over the age of 35 is classified as being of ‘advanced maternal age’. An improvement from ‘geriatric pregnancy’ but still not a great feeling to have a ‘high risk’ label displayed on your medical chart because of your age. I had Dougie when I was 39. Four months later I turned 40.
I was incredibly excited to turn 30 as I was incredibly done with my 20s. They were fine, but they felt too much like an extension of my teen years: the uncertainty, the sort of finding my way through my career and life, searching for some sort of economic stability while not making enough money to feel economically stable. I looked forward to my 30th birthday and fast forward I absolutely loved this entire decade for myself. It was a decade of intense personal growth and the person who exited it felt far wiser and more self aware than the person who entered it.
I’m nearly two years into my 40th decade and I’ve struggled to embrace it with those same open arms. While I might’ve leapt into my 30s, I was dragged, nails in the dirt, into my 40s. Partly because I loved my 30s so much but also turning 40 for the first time in my life made me feel old. Now, those of you reading this who are also or older than 40, I can feel you rolling your eyes and before you hurt yourselves let me say I by no means think 40 is actually old. I by no means think 50, 60, 70 or even 80 is ‘old.’ And even if any of these ages are thought to be ‘old’ in the sense that they are ‘older than other generations or ages’ I don’t think ‘old’ equates to ‘bad’. 90 and 100 might actually qualify as ‘old’ and honestly I think if you are blessed to live that long you should get an award. A badge you can wear that demands the respect one deserves who has walked on this planet for as long as you have.
Turning 40 felt more significant than 30 and not just because there happened to be more years in the bank. I didn’t have the stereotypical checklist (marriage, babies, etc) that comes with turning 30; I was just excited to no longer be 29. Something about turning 40 felt like more of a true milestone birthday for me. Not that there was a checklist I had but it felt more established as I was further into the trajectory of my life. I also very distinctly remember my own mom turning 40 and (no offense Mom) as a kid I always thought my mom was old because my mom was an adult. I was ten, and it’s the earliest memory I have of celebrating her birthday (which I’m assuming means we probably didn’t celebrate her birthday very often in which case also Mom I’m sorry). I spent my 40th birthday at a spa and my mom spent her 40th birthday opening cards that reminded her she was ‘over the hill’. I hope Hallmark no longer makes cards like those and if they do my sympathies to all the graphic designers forced to waste hours of their lives trying to update them in a way that doesn’t feel ageist and outdated.
As a society we tend look to younger as better - so many ‘under 30 lists’ and consumer insights panels trying to unlock the buying habits of the newest generation with spending power that as other generations age they tend to be forgotten. I grew up in the era of fashion magazines advising women how to ‘dress for your age,’ showing variations of a trend at 20/30/40/50. Thank god those have ended (or at least I don’t see them anymore) although I still get so many targeted ads on Instagram for anti-aging devices and serums and please those need to end too. I recently got sucked into a prime day deal for a microcurrent device that promised to tighten my skin so well people would think I had work done, review after review singing it’s praise. Do I even want to tighten my skin? Do I even need people thinking I ‘had work done?’ Not in the least but in that moment I felt like I for sure needed it. Turns out the microcurrents gave me headaches and three weeks later my face looked exactly the same: tired.
Prior to entering my non-working era, I spent nearly 20 years working in the fashion industry. An industry that notoriously does not embrace an aging population, particularly aging women unless they are former 90s supermodels or Lauren Hutton. I love all of these women and I’m here for all of their stories. I want to hear from more aging women! Famous or not! But do you know who I don’t want to hear from? Old dads. Because it’s a reminder of how men vs. women are viewed as we age : he’s a ‘silver fox’ who gets to have kids until he is literally senile and people want to WRITE ARTICLES ABOUT HIM while I’m told my ‘peak fertility years’ are behind me at the age of THIRTY and I’m being spammed ads for ‘nuface’ because apparently I need to fake a facelift.
What I am trying to say here is that turning 40 has made me feel old. I entered into my 40s so tired I was sleepwalking. If someone were narrating my life they would have literally said ‘her bones were weary’ because my bones were tired and they were weary. Various body parts I’ve never had issues with had started to ache - my knees, my pelvis, my wrists. It was easy for me to equate all of these aches and pains and feelings of exhaustion with my milestone of a birthday; the reality was I was tired because I was also a new mom. And my knees hurt because I was still breastfeeding and so I had all the pregnancy hormones that can cause achy body parts still racing around in my body. And it was hard at the time to have the space to objectively look at this new decade I was approaching with confidence, excitement and a feeling of possibility because nothing in my life felt familiar. My identity had been turned inside out and put back on upside down and I was anything but confident in myself because I was so confused with this person I had suddenly become.
Now, nearly 2 years later I feel a bit more grounded in who I am as a person and also as a mom, but I still feel tired and I still feel old. I’m no longer breastfeeding (thank god) and I’m back to running but my knees still ache and my bones are still weary. The reality being that whether I like it or not, my body is aging and I need to look after it and treat it with more compassion and care than I did ten or fifteen or even five years ago. That means stretching more and maybe not running on the days I’m unbelievably exhausted because my son was awake for 3 hours at 2am. Learning that I don’t always have to push myself physically or mentally all of the time because it’s not actually imperative that I always give 120%. Sometimes it’s ok (and necessary) to just phone it in.
And not only do I feel older with every birthday I have, I also feel older with every birthday my son has. Because having a child makes my own mortality that much more visible and that much more real. While we might both get older with every year that passes, this idea of getting older means something different to both of us. A birthday for me means my body is aging, approaching perimenopause and requires annual screenings for new age-related diseases like breast cancer. A birthday for my son means he’s growing and changing and one step closer to becoming the person he’s meant to be in the world. I’m reminded as I have blood work drawn to ensure my heart is healthy that I’m approaching an age where my heart might not be as healthy as it once was, and that despite it still might be very probable that I could have a baby in my 40s, it’s also very probable that my body could be like ‘hard no’ and it’s something that I’m no longer able to do simply because of my age. While my husband and I are now officially team ‘one kid,’ it is also unsettling to know that I’m approaching an age where I (we) no longer have the luxury of changing my mind. Where my body just won’t be able to do something I might one day want it to do.
I’m sure every parent hopes they live a healthy life for as long as possible because with every birthday I have and every birthday my son has I’m also very aware that there will be many birthdays he has that I won’t get to see and a very large part of his life I won’t be here to witness and it makes me incredibly sad because he’s my favorite person in the world and I don’t want to miss any of it. All we can hope for, what anyone can hope for really, is that we get to experience as much of it together as possible. And also when he’s a teenager that he still likes having me around as much as he does now so that he also wants me to experience as much of it as possible with him. I might be biased but I think he’s pretty awesome and I think he thinks I’m pretty awesome too so here’s hoping in 12 years he still thinks I’m just as awesome when I’m the awesome age of almost 54.
Several years ago when it was clear that I was no longer in my ‘mid’ thirties I read a compilation of essays focused on aging written by brilliant women all at or around the age of 40. Some were well into their 40th decade and others had just entered into it. One essay was written around this concept of time being relative, which I found to be incredibly interesting since I’ve noticed as I get older my birthdays seem to come along faster each and every year which again makes me think of this whole ‘the days are long but the years are short’ situation. I unfortunately can’t remember the author of this particular essay that has permanently taken up residency in my brain and I have since passed the book along to another 40-something friend, but her point was that we’re not all crazy and time does in fact seem to speed up as we get older because it’s all relative to the amount of time spent on the planet. To my almost 2 year old, one year feels like an eternity because it is literally half of his life. To this almost 42 year old mom, one year doesn’t feel nearly as long because it’s such a tiny fraction relative to all of the years I’ve spent circling the sun.
So all this to say that while I’m proud to be 41 years old (and despite loving my 30s I also have no desire to relive them) it’s still a number I grapple with. What I can say is that I love my wrinkles and I love my ever changing body and I’m far stronger now than I was 10 years ago - the only difference is my knees hurt. I was getting my covid and flu vaccines last week (because this is me being responsible in my 40s) and the UCSF pharmacy student who administered my shots told me I didn’t look 41. Which I’m not really sure is even a compliment because honestly what is 41 supposed to look like anyway? And why would I or should I want to look anything less?
*k