Today is my birthday and I happen to love birthdays. Mine, yours, my cat’s, whomever (or whatever) I don’t care.
When I was younger, a birthday was a marker of getting to something. Whether it was getting to my first double-digit birthday, turning 17 and being able to get into an R-rated movie or turning 21 and being able to drink (legally) in a bar.
As I have gotten older the “milestone” birthdays come in to play and it seems that everyone is trying to get away from their age. We say that “40 is the new 30” and “I’m younger at 40 than my parents were”. Personally, I don’t mind getting older because I feel much, much younger than my 44 years.
I am strong, active and pretty fit. I’m able to run in the hills, teach classes and train with my friends. I can do about 50 military style push ups in a minute and do an 8:40 mile (but only 1). I can play sports with my kids and keep up with them on a daily basis.
And while the wrinkles come and the silver hair is starting to peek out from under the dark, as long as I can move and play and run, it’s all good.
Besides, at 44 I’m old enough to know that a good colorist and a great skin care regime can take care of the superficial!
Now go run!