My 40th birthday is next Tuesday. I have planned nothing. Usually birthdays are an excuse to make big purchases, go on fun trips with my girlfriends or make a big fuss with family and friends over drinks. But not this year. This year I feel detached and ambivalent. This time last year I was in the best shape ever, training for my first half marathon. I felt lean and strong. I felt whole. Now I feel plump and weak. Broken. I have found ten of the twenty-ish pounds I lost last year and I have not run a single mile since October’s Halloween 5k.
I have stopped moving.
The Tortoise turned 15 this past Wednesday. We celebrated with dinner out that night and are completely transforming her preteen room into one of style, sophistication and glamor. She’s chosen a black, grey, and white color palette with a few splashes of pink and couture. My daughter is excited about finishing her first year of high school and is already thinking about college plans. She is picturing her future, seeing that dreams can become reality. She is building something amazing with her life, experiencing new things everyday. I am both proud and in awe of her confidence and beauty.
She is moving forward.
Maybe that is where I am disconnected. I don’t picture any future plans for myself other than what I am doing right now. And I have no motivation to push myself to make a new goal, or create a new vision. It’s overwhelming to know I achieved a big goal like the half-marathon last year and have let the momentum slip away. Now I am starting over. No longer am I motivated by the promise of “I think I can, I think I can”, but instead am being dragged down by negative self-talk of “You would’ve been so much farther if you hadn’t stopped. Now you are starting over”.