So I have been writing on this blog since 2005, just under 6 years. Granted, I have not been very consistent. I took considerable time off to live my life between travels. And even though lots have things have happened in between trips, I just never felt compelled to truly write it down.
As time goes on, so does life. We get older, that's part of progression. We also experience certain events in life that change us. Some things can be marked by a specific day and time and incident. For example, on August 17, 2009, I moved into my Stadium Suites dorm to begin my college experience. On January 6, 2011, I ran my first ever Marathon in Walt Disney World. But not all great events can be marked by a date an time. For example, I left France 2 years ago, and while I do not think I have changed all that much, I have grown up a little but more. I am a little older and a little wiser, and a lot less naive. I can not give you a specific moment when I reached the point I'm at now, but it did happen along the way in a series of events.
Just before France, I emailed the R's about my return to France and to see if I could stay with them for a few days. The answer was of course, and several emails ensued in regards to updates to the lives of the R's. Cha cha's progression with her studies, Ant's new girlfriend, JF still working like crazy, Coco still being Coco, and L R still being L R. But what really bothered me was that L R also told me she was not able to run anymore due in part to a torn tendon in her Achilles. (In the email, it sounded like she would never run again. But in France I have learned she is just taking about 5 months off from the sport to recover.) It really bothered me to think that L R, who I believe I had grown so close to because of our mutual love for running, could no longer run. I talked to my Dad about it, and he just said these things happen with age.
I love my Dad to death, but I absolutely hate when he talks about getting old, which unfortunately is all the time. I'm not entirely sure I have the right to sit down and talk about this since my body has not progressed to the stage that he is in. And I know if and when he reads this, he will probably get annoyed. But I am really tired of hearing about how age destroys the body and forces you to give up a lot of good things. The way my Dad spoke this past vacation in Vermont sounded as if he was truly going to give up skiing for good. I accept the fact that I am a marathon runner, and that I am in far better shape than he is, but I am tired of hearing age blamed for every little thing. I also used to think it was just my Dad who had this crisis with a "frail" aging body. But I have learned the very opposite.
As I mentioned before, L R and I share the mutual love for running. So her injury kind of hit hard for me as well. Of course anyone can become injured from a sport such as running, especially when running in the Combs of Fixin, which is hard core trail running. The interesting thing is rather than blame a bad step or fall or something, L R told me that after age 50, things change. You can not do as much any more, because age holds you back. Essentially, she believed that the injury came about because of her age. This was not the first or only incident of L R blaming age for something. Several times she mentioned her age as a barrier to some things, until finally I told her to stop it. Age is Beauty. She has lived too wonderful of a life to feel disappointed by a number.
Before I left France the last time, Fred told me that I would have to come back in 10 years so that we could go in the Combs and run again. I ended up coming back after 2 years, and we were able to go up into the Combs and run again. But this time instead of telling me to come back in 10 years, she told me I would probably have to come back after 2 months. At minimum, every two years. I'll come back every two years or so because I love my host family ad I love the country of France, but not because I think everyone is going to drop dead from age as they all seem to think.
I am not naive enough to truly want to be old. I love my life right now. I'm 20 years-old, a hard-core long distance runner, an avid traveler, and a curiosity that probably never will be satiated before I bite the big one. I have also listened to many of my sorority sisters and older friends say that after the 21st birthday, there really is nothing to look forward to with regards to birthdays. But I don't see getting old as taboo. Sure, I know I will probably freak out when I find a gray hair in my head, but I sort of find silver streaks pretty cool. A sign of wisdom and a sign that you have lived a good life. And I know a lot of older people find crow's feet to be completely atrocious. But I like they are signs that you have lived a life full of laughter. Furthermore, I truly believe that you are as young as you feel. Maybe your knees creak and your tendon gets pulled easier, but if you can laugh and find joy in the simple things, a number should not define who you are.
Then again, I accept than I am only 20. Maybe I should come back to this post in 30 years. That's a terrifying thought.
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