The year I turned 30 I was proud and felt great to be stepping into my 30’s. I found myself with a great life and ready for it only get better as I was glad to not have the drama of the 20’s. My husband and I were just days away from celebrating our 5th wedding anniversary, I had an adorable 19 month old son, a sweet 3 month old daughter and yes, PREGNANT with my third son. I mean I must have been strong to endure not just back-to-back pregnancies but pregnant for about 4 years in a row. Whew
So why did my tone change from being loud and proud about my age to now asking my siblings to join in me in my effort to make us all 10 years younger? I do not know other then it started as a joke to having to double check again how old I was. It could be that somewhere in the years of raising toddlers I wanted to stop time for myself so I could loose weight and feel better, after all I did not feel “old”.
My birthday came around again this year and I was ready to embrace my age but it has taken time to say it out loud. My husband turned 40 last June and has embraced it proudly which I have admired. He signed up for 5 races with the motto of #strongerinmy40s. I understood this attitude, this perspective of being stronger now then before while running my first half marathon two weeks ago. Around mile 7 I was still in my sweet spot feeling great, passing other runners and enjoying the run. I found myself wondering if my 32 year old self would have been able to run which automatically the answer is no!
So why do I want to be 32 again when I was not strong as I am now. The me of today is stronger, faster, healthier and happier. I may not be pre-baby size but I am in way better shape that I am sad to think of what my goals use to be. I get it now that I am stronger in my age right now and should be proud.
So this year I turned a year older, signed up for 13 races and can proudly say I am a 38 years old!