Turtles Can Fly Too: An Ironman Tale: MID LIFE CRISIS OR CELEBRATION

It is coming. The marker for midlife. The big 5-0 and it is rolling in like a giant wave with a vengeance in 8 weeks. A year ago, I set intentions to not let this number get me down, that I would show this body who's the boss. I was out to prove that 50 can be strong, healthy and fit for I became an Ironman at 48 and I could hold onto that title at 50. Sometimes intentions remain as unfinished thoughts lying around in the clouds.

During my run in the heat this morning, I started doing calculations about how long I was going to live and recalling a sculpture in the medical school at the University of Pittsburgh that showed the cycle of life from conception to death and how in the middle the body begins the downward curve back into the fetal position until we are dependent, helpless and gone. As the heat was breaking down my body today, my calculations determined that I might have already reached my peak at age 48 and my downward curve may have already begun and I would live to be 96 instead of 100. That sat ok with me since there are many years left to do triathlons and maybe the others in my age group would slowly drop out so I can finally get on the podium or make it to Kona. On the other hand, I started questioning whether my body was up for this sport and maybe I was living in a fantasy world and I should stop holding my breath and get my head out of the water and find a more age appropriate sport. I had a lot of time to think as my run turned into a walk. Of course the sun may have overcooked my brain making my thoughts more hallucinogenic then rational.

I mostly write my blog or sign up for a race when I am feeling the "high" of the sport. I avoid sharing when I hit my lows. One can look at midlife as the beginning of the end or enjoy the ride back to the finish line. I hate how my skin hangs and there is less defined muscles in my arms and legs. I hate the extra folds of skin on my eye lids and face. I hate how my body is moving so slowly on land (feels like I am moving through chocolate pudding most of the time). I hate that the battle of the bulges is winning. I seem to be STUCK at my weight and at my times on the bike and run.

I feel like I have been on the never ending treadmill like George and his dog Astro from the Jetsons, YIKES. Yes, I am questioning, contemplating, wondering how to turn the frown upside down, how to make it to the start with good health, and even more how to get to the finish of 140.6. Will 50 become a crisis or a celebration.

But what I am not is a quitter. As much as I want to quit, I will find a way to get through the next 14 weeks and come out stronger, smarter, and better at the other end. I know I can train my mind to be YOUNG and STRONG. I know it is a choice and I will have to make it!