Thirty-five

Wow, what even happened here? I'm about to turn 35 years old.

I was perusing old blog posts and came across the time I adorably turned 27. I was getting old and, gasp! Nearing 30!

Now I'm on the eve of another birthday, but this time I'm feeling uncomfortably close to uncomfortable. 

I've always believed -- and preached -- that age is just a number. You're only as old as you feel! Live the life you love! Seriously though, I have that last one on a bracelet I wear every day. 

I mean, there is truth to all of that.

I am only as old as I feel, and most times I feel 14. And I am living the life I love. The difference is no matter how old I feel and how much I love the life I'm living, my body is still turning 35. My body is edging ever closer to 40. 

I don't believe 35 is old. I don't believe 40 is old. But I do believe the time I have to do all the things I want with my life is dwindling.

You know what I want to be? A mom. I want to be married and have a family and have adventures like I did as a kid with my own parents. I didn't anticipate that I'd be nearing 60 by the time my own child goes to college, if I have a child. Hell, my own parents are barely 60 and I'm in my mid-thirties.

And no, Todd isn't reading this having a panic attack. He very well knows what I want for the future. We live on the same page. It's a good page in a good book. You should read it.

But the thing is, the future used to feel far away. I had time before the future. Mortality did not feel so... pressing?

Once upon a time I believed I'd have children by 30. I'd be done having children by then, of course. I wanted two children, like my mom had. I've actually let that one go, however. I feel like I'll be lucky to convince my body to give me one, if the time comes. And it'll be considered a "geriatric pregnancy". 

Aging as a woman is fucking cruel.

And running. Hopefully I'll be running for years to come. In fact, I hope to be running 20 years from now. But have I peaked? Last year was meant to be the biggest and best year of running. Instead it was a total wash. By bypassing an entire year, did I miss my peak? Will my body still perform the way I want it to five years from now? Because I am not at all ready for my running peak to be over. Or am I? I can't keep track of my relationship with running, to be quite honest. 

Okay so, real talk: I probably can't even count the number of you who are reading this, silently patting me on the head with, "Oh Krista, you silly. You're so young."

You probably also have grown children that you birthed at 23 when your body was young and capable. Our perspectives and ideas of young are so very different.

If not, though, please do prove me wrong. If I'm being needlessly worried about turning 35 and inching toward 40, I AM HERE FOR YOUR COMMENTARY. 

But you know, irrational (but are they?) fears aside, my thirties have been fantastic. I'm taking thirties over twenties any day. All day. EVERY DAY.

Turning 35 also bumps me into a much more favorable Boston Marathon-qualifying bracket, so I can't be mad at that, either. Not that I care to qualify again. Or do I? I don't even know. These are trying times.

I digress.

All of this aside, the one thing I can't complain about is my actual life. It's a good life. If it had to take 35 years to really find my place and find my person and find my true joy, then I can't wish for anything different.

I only wish it had happened earlier so I could have been enjoying it all this time, man. Way to cheat me out of some good stuff, fate. 

But what is it they say? That it's not about the number of years in your life; it's about the life in your years? I'm going with that.

I may have gotten a late start to this good life that is now mine, but dammit, I'm going to make the years I have it count. Like, super count. I'm going to next-level the amount of count.

I just need this body of mine to remain as optimistic as my wishful, teenage heart. No one tell it that it's been around for 35 years.

Gross.

It's fine. I'll fill it with more cake and remind it who's boss.

Cheers to another trip around the sun. I'll blow those 35 candles out LIKE I MEAN IT.