Life at Thirty-Seven

I can't remember the last time I spent the whole day reading and finishing a book of my own choosing for pure enjoyment. After switching my major to English, it seems like all I've been doing is required reading. Granted, some of the books I'm required to read I've liked, but it's not the same as choosing a book that I'm genuinely interested in and reading it for simply the sake of reading.

While in school, I have a tendency to buy books that I want to read, yet I leave them unread on my bedside bookshelf. Over time the books accumulate and now that it's summer, they stare at me accusingly.

Since I'll be heading to Paris in about a month and a half, I decided to start with Paris My Sweet by Amy Thomas. In this book, Amy Thomas, a complete francophile and chocolate addict, describes her life as she leaves New York for a job offer in Paris.

This book definitely made me hungry as I followed Amy on her quest for the best sweets in Paris and New York, but it also left me evaluating my own life. Yes, she has a successful writing career and lives in one of the best cities of the world, but she's also thirty-seven, single, and facing infertility.

Without a satisfying resolution at the end of the book, I couldn't help but wonder about my life at thirty-seven.

What would become of me then? Would I be alive? Would I think back on my thirty-seven years and say to myself, "Wow, I've really lived." Or would I regret the time that I wasted?

What's more important? A career or love? Why I think about this stuff at 12:04 a.m., I have no idea. I'm just so worried about the future, confused about the present, and at a loss of words about the past. I can't really make up my mind about what I want out of life. My adventurous side just wants to travel, experience, meet people, write, and wander around in unfamiliar territories. On the other hand my romantic side wants to spend my life with someone, brave the world, and be in love. Are the two lives compatible? I'm not sure. Maybe. Who knows?




We love and we hurt; we learn and we grow. Only then will we start anew.

I woke up this morning and I noticed that I was breathing easily. No panic. No stress. No groggy or tired feeling. No nightmares or  crazy dreams. Just a peaceful sleep ended by my eyes opening.

No more ties to the past, only hope for each coming day. It's the feeling of falling in love, and I am in love with life, despite all the pain that comes with it... because with pain, comes beauty.

And with beauty comes strength.

My Endurance Mentality

I have a hate/love relationship with running.

When I was younger I hated running. It always seemed so boring to me, doing the same motion over and over. I preferred playing sports and I always joked with my coaches that if they wanted me to run they would need to give me a soccer or volleyball to motivate me to.

But in college sports just weren't the same anymore and I started getting into running last year. I starting signing up for 10K's and then a half-marathon, but I hated training for race day. I only loved the feeling of finishing the finish line. Somehow, this perspective seemed skewed. It was like I was just living for one moment. But that's not how life or running should be. Life isn't about one moment but all of the little moments. Each and every step. Life is about the journey you go through, and the accumulation of those moments and events create these finish lines along the way. Now I can finally see running as a metaphor for that.

But that wasn't my initial perspective.

During my first half-marathon, I was proud of myself that I finished, but I wasn't proud of my time. If anything I was ashamed of it. I would tell myself that the only reason I finished was because I had the ability to endure pain. Whether it's enduring emotional and physical stress, or a haunting past, I seemed to be a pro at enduring it all.

Yet, pain tolerance isn't something to be proud of...

Putting one foot in front of the other, I told myself to keep moving and push past it all. Keeping my dreams and goals in sight, I realized that I had to move on.

I learned to forgive others and forgive myself, accept and acknowledge the past as a reminder to myself who I am, and learning to let it go with each breath.

Soon enough I was running faster, breathing easier, and conquering every mile. With hard work and dedication, running felt like flying, and I finally felt free from all the things that I had endured. I may not be the fastest or the best runner, but I was becoming a happier person.

To cross those finish lines in life, you have to work hard and keep at it with each and every step.

On July 14th I will be proud of myself for finishing my second half-marathon and I will be proud of my time. But most of all, I will be proud of who I am and how far I've come to be the young lady that I am today.


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