Relate to this so well. I was a dancer that lasted longer than most, until 47. At 51 I became a competitive runner and ranked in the top 25 in the nation. Now at 59, I slowly run on a treadmill, can't do concrete. I'm trying to stay in the gratitude of "at least I can still run" and do a cartwheel but the transition is a slap in the face. It's taken a lot of therapy to accept a new normal. Thank you so much for writing this.
Loved the piece. I am 64 and lucky enough to still have both my parents in this world. I walk, did strength training with a trainer until I got plantar fasciitis in my right foot. I think it's not a good idea to hire a 19 year old college student as a trainer. I'm looking for someone older now. My mother was quite active until her stroke a year ago (after having Covid). She's lost a lot since then, and now I'm more frightened of aging, especially since she had me 15 days out from her 18th birthday. Will I be her soon? In some ways, that's good; this last year, I don't know. She came through both Covid and 2 strokes, which is grand, especially since she is mobile and not much affected except for her stamina. I have so much I want to do...
Really great writing. And as I am also 53, I can relate in so many ways. My first ego-desolving "oh wow, if I'm not who I thought I was" moment happened 14 years ago. But after 50 (and menopause which was earlier for me) there has definitely been a lot of letting go and letting myself see I am so much more than the narrow definition I once held. I think it's a continual process from here, not a one and done really. Also, with this: "I know the healthiest forests have the oldest trees." - have you read "Finding the Mother Tree"?
Loved! 52 year old here, so relating to all of this. And though I’m not a runner-I was a legs-over-head yogi-I seemed to have contracted the EXACT same injures. The snap of the calf is a horrid sound, and then…. I’mnever turning to pet my dog in the back seat at a stoplight again.
Relate to this so well. I was a dancer that lasted longer than most, until 47. At 51 I became a competitive runner and ranked in the top 25 in the nation. Now at 59, I slowly run on a treadmill, can't do concrete. I'm trying to stay in the gratitude of "at least I can still run" and do a cartwheel but the transition is a slap in the face. It's taken a lot of therapy to accept a new normal. Thank you so much for writing this.
Great story Andrea!
Change is inevitable. Fortunately our perspective and experiences change right along with it. Wonderful essay.
Loved the piece. I am 64 and lucky enough to still have both my parents in this world. I walk, did strength training with a trainer until I got plantar fasciitis in my right foot. I think it's not a good idea to hire a 19 year old college student as a trainer. I'm looking for someone older now. My mother was quite active until her stroke a year ago (after having Covid). She's lost a lot since then, and now I'm more frightened of aging, especially since she had me 15 days out from her 18th birthday. Will I be her soon? In some ways, that's good; this last year, I don't know. She came through both Covid and 2 strokes, which is grand, especially since she is mobile and not much affected except for her stamina. I have so much I want to do...
Wonderful story, thank you for sharing. I am also a runner, and new dad, so can relate in a few ways.
Really great writing. And as I am also 53, I can relate in so many ways. My first ego-desolving "oh wow, if I'm not who I thought I was" moment happened 14 years ago. But after 50 (and menopause which was earlier for me) there has definitely been a lot of letting go and letting myself see I am so much more than the narrow definition I once held. I think it's a continual process from here, not a one and done really. Also, with this: "I know the healthiest forests have the oldest trees." - have you read "Finding the Mother Tree"?
Loved! 52 year old here, so relating to all of this. And though I’m not a runner-I was a legs-over-head yogi-I seemed to have contracted the EXACT same injures. The snap of the calf is a horrid sound, and then…. I’mnever turning to pet my dog in the back seat at a stoplight again.