Today, I turn 30. This means that a lot of my friends are turning 30 this year too, and most of them are freaking out. It would seem that turning 30 is a huge, negative deal – signifying the end of our twenties and everything that goes along with them, like youth and beauty.
But I’m not feeling the panic. Or the depression. Or even the fear that my best years are behind me. I’m actually excited. My twenties were great, don’t get me wrong, but they were also hard. I had some bad relationships, got really sick from Celiac’s disease, and fought to get healthy on my terms. There is no way I’d do that all over again.
In reflecting, I realized in a lot of ways, running gave me a new life. I feel younger now as a 30 year-old runner than I did when I was overweight and out-of-shape at 21. This got me wondering: shouldn’t we measure our age, not by counting the candles on the cake, but in a different way? Read more >>