On Turning 40 and Other Marathons

With no noticeable deterioration, shrivelling, or crisis, I turned 40 three months ago. (Though, a student happily informed me that in his country, I was actually 41, having had my first year in utero). The day, a warm, sunny Tuesday, passed with little fanfare. I ate pate at my first “real” French restaurant and watched a World Cup match in a hipster pub. That week, co-workers were nicer than I expected and joined me for dinner and plied me with gifts. I went to a tiny island and I didn’t write a bucket list.

But something did take root. A desire for this decade to be better than the last, with fewer setbacks and mistakes and more accomplishments. I had listened to a TED Talk podcast about millennials. One speaker, Meg Jay, talked about her book, “The Defining Decade: Why Our 20s Matter”. It depressed me a bit to think about all the stupid and wasteful things I did in my 20s and how little I did to figure out what I wanted to do. It still astounds me that I never thought to travel. I can’t even get into my headspace of that time. So it is with a sense of having to catch up that I enter this new decade.

Maybe this desire to chase down lost and wasted time has manifested itself into the desire for literal running. As with many of my other life decisions, I woke up one morning and decided to see if I could run more than my usual 10km. I mapped out a route in my head and 12km later, I was panting and buzzing with those good endorphins. Without stopping to take a shower, I sat down and registered for the half marathon. The next 8 weeks I stuck to the plan and accomplished my goal of running 20km (13 miles) without stopping.

But as I write this my stomach is gurgling from being overfed chicken fajitas. I wanted four, ate three but should have only had one or two. In fact, I should have had lettuce wraps or a salad. How is it I can be so regimented about running four mornings a week, including a two-hour run on a Saturday morning, but I cannot put down a jar of peanut butter once opened, or better yet, not open the peanut butter jar to begin with? The weight never went down from my “Road to 40” goals and in fact, went up 2kg!

There are so many marathons yet to be run this decade. Self-discipline. Being less of an introvert, engaging more. (I prefer an hour of running to five minutes of small talk.) And the biggest hurdle of all: actually doing something and being less of a consumer than a producer.

In the meantime, there’s the mundane rituals of pleasure and pain to get me through the days. Endless choices of entertainment in English (pleasure!); working out at the gym and trying to master Pilates (pain!); planning and teaching advanced English 30 hours a week (pain!), but having students tell me I’m the best teacher (pleasure!); waiting months for a holiday (pain!); getting to go to France and Italy (pleasure!); having a wonderful partner and both of us enjoying good health (pleasure, pleasure, pleaure).