I’m settling into my forties okay. I feel pretty young, but also sort of old, at any given moment. When I’ve finished a run or a particularly challenging workout, I feel strong and invincible. When I’ve been chained to my desk for a week, and I turn my head in some odd way and strain my neck, I feel frustrated and fragile and teetering on ancient. It’s kind of an odd space to occupy.
I was riding pretty high in early March – feeling accomplished and capable, and then I hit a few walls in a row. It feels crappy, but also like I’m not supposed to feel crappy right smack in the middle of a wonderful trip to D.C. and finally, FINALLY, Hamilton. So I’m kind of ambivalent about the whole birthday thing, although I’m being spoiled enough despite my hesitation.
I’ll figure this out. I’ll settle into this new year, and life will move on. If I were blowing out a candle, I’d wish for patience for myself. Not patience, actually, maybe it’s really more like grace. I’d like to go easier on myself in a million tiny ways. To sit in stillness more, and be kind to myself in the silence. To find comfort in this middle space.