I've been a little melancholy about turning 59 today.
Being in your 50s is one thing, but 59 is barreling straight toward being in your 60s. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it just doesn't seem like it could be true.
I have wonderful friends, my parents and siblings are all healthy and we all love each other, I have terrific and rewarding job/s, I have a lovely home, and I (mostly) like myself.
Still, 59! What the hell?
One of goals for this last year of my 50s is to get in better shape. I met my weight goal three years ago (thanks to WW) and held steady for two years and then whoosh!
I could blame last year's broken ankle, the cake recipe I was testing for the State Fair, slowing metabolism, work....any number of things. My disappoint in my self if that I know what to do.
I decided to kick off my new year by starting to do something about it. I walk/jogged the Mini-Marathon this morning. All 13.1 miles in my small house, pajamas, and bare feet.
I took today off and my plan was to walk through the neighborhoods to downtown and back. But it was raining. My back ached. I was hungry. Where were my ear buds? I could tell that I was losing steam and was ready scrap the idea.
I launched out of bed and went for it. I came in first (of the people in my house, anyway)!
I did take time to set up my own finish line.